The Toll-Gate Read online

  ‘No, certainly not: I never heard of anyone’s being held up on it.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘How very shocking, to be sure – and how very exciting! Of course, if this Mr Chirk of yours is indeed poor Rose’s admirer, his presence in the district is readily explained. But if he is not, what can bring him here? Is it possible that Brean’s disappearance is in some way connected with him?’

  ‘That thought had occurred to me too,’ he acknowledged. ‘Also that some link may exist between him and the unknown stranger of whom Ben stands in such dread. If it does, however, Ben has no notion of it. He esteems Chirk most highly: in fact, he says he is good as ever twanged, which I take to be praise of no mean order! What I hope is that I may be privileged to meet Chirk. I think he has been quite a frequent visitor. But if Brean is working with him, he must know very well where he is, and he won’t come to the toll-house while I am there.’

  ‘And the other? the mysterious man?’

  ‘I’ve seen no sign of him.’

  There was a pause. She was looking ahead, frowning a little. Suddenly she drew a sharp breath, and said abruptly: ‘Captain Staple!’

  He waited, and then, as she appeared to be at a loss, said encouragingly: ‘Yes?’

  ‘It is of no consequence! I forget what I was about to say!’ she replied, in rather a brusque tone. The constraint, which had vanished while she recounted Rose’s romance, returned; and after an uncomfortable silence, she asked him, as one in duty bound to manufacture polite conversation, whether he admired the Derbyshire scene. His lips twitched; but he answered with perfect gravity that he had been much struck by the wild beauty of the surrounding countryside. He then said that having approached Crowford from the northwest his way had led him across some rough moorland, whence magnificent views had been obtained. This provided Miss Stornaway with a safe topic for discussion. She supposed he must have passed close to the Peak, and was sorry to think he should not have visited the cavern there. ‘There are a great many caves in the hills,’ she informed him. ‘Many more, I daresay, than are generally known, but that one, in particular, is quite a curiosity. You should visit it before you leave Derbyshire. Only fancy! – in its mouth, which is enormous, there is actually a village built! The rock is limestone, you know, and if you penetrate into the cave you will find it worn into the most fantastic shapes. There is a stream running through it, and the guide takes one in a small boat along it. It is most romantic, I assure you – but shockingly cold!’

  He responded with great civility; and Miss Stornaway, searching her mind for further matters of topographical interest, recalled that the spring, in Tideswell, which had an uncertain ebb and flow, was also reckoned amongst the wonders of the Peak.

  This subject lasted until the turnpike was reached. Tideswell lay not far from this, and the rest of the way was beguiled in discussing the exact nature of the commodities to be purchased in the town. Miss Stornaway, informing the Captain that it was her custom to stable Squirrel at the Old George while she transacted her business, would have driven there immediately; but as soon as the outlying buildings of the town came into sight John stopped her, saying that it would be best if he were to be set down there. ‘You may overtake me on the road when we have each of us done all this shopping,’ he said. ‘It won’t do for you to be seen driving a gatekeeper, you know.’

  ‘Good heavens, I don’t care for that!’ she said scornfully.

  ‘Then I must care for you,’ he replied.

  ‘Nonsense! You don’t look in the least like a gatekeeper! Besides, no one knows you!’

  ‘They soon will. One of the disadvantages of being bigger than the average, ma’am, is that one is easily recognizable. No, don’t drive on!’

  Except for a lift of her obstinate chin she gave no sign of having heard him. After a moment, he leaned forward, and, taking the reins above her hand, pulled Squirrel up. She flamed into quick wrath, exclaiming: ‘How dare you? Understand me, sir, I am not accustomed to submit to dictation!’

  ‘I know you are not,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Never mind! You may very easily punish me by refusing to take me up again presently. Will an hour suffice us, do you suppose?’

  He jumped down from the gig, and for a moment she eyed him uncertainly. There was so much amused understanding in his face that her little spurt of temper died, and she said: ‘Oh, if you choose to be so nonsensical! Yes, an hour – and you will be well served if I make you trudge all the way to Crowford!’

  She drove on, and he followed her on foot into the town.

  By a stroke of good fortune, he found a pair of serviceable brogues in a warehouse that catered for the needs of farm labourers, but not all his endeavours could discover a coat into which he could squeeze his powerful shoulders. He was obliged to abandon the search, and to purchase instead a leather waistcoat. By the time he had acquired coarse woollen stockings, a supply of flannel shirts, and several coloured neckcloths, only a few minutes were left to him in which to write and to despatch a letter to the Hon. Wilfred Babbacombe, at Edenhope, near Melton Mowbray. This missive was necessarily brief, and requested Mr Babbacombe, in turgid ink and on a single sheet of rough paper, to ransack two valises consigned to his guardianship and to wrench from them such shirts, neckcloths, nightshirts, and underlinen as they might be found to contain, and to dispatch these, in a plain parcel, to Mr (heavily underscored) Staple, at the Crowford Toll-gate, near Tideswell, in the County of Derbyshire.

  Having sealed this communication with a wafer, and deposited it at the receiving office, Captain Staple gathered together his various packages, and set out on the homeward journey.

  He had not proceeded very far along the road out of the town before Miss Stornaway overtook him. She pulled up, and he was soon seated beside her again, bowling along in the direction of Crowford.

  ‘I must tell you at once that I have exceeded your instructions, and bought for you, besides wax candles, a lamp which you may set upon the table, and which will be very much more the thing for you,’ she told him. ‘You informed me that you were in the possession of an independance, so I did not scruple to lay out another six shillings of your money. Did you contrive to procure raiment more fitted to your calling than what you are wearing now?’

  ‘Yes, but I had a great fancy for a frieze coat, and I could not find one to fit me!’

  ‘You mean, I collect, into which you might squeeze yourself!’ she retorted. ‘Well! I warned you how it would be! Tideswell is not, after all, a large town.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘And sadly lacking in historic interest. Apart from its spring there really seems to be nothing to say about it, which leaves me quite at a loss.’

  ‘Oh?’ she said, puzzled, and slightly suspicious.

  ‘We could talk about the weather, of course,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Or I could describe to you some of the places I have visited abroad.’

  She bit her lip, but when he began, in the blandest way, to expatiate upon the grandeur of the Pyrenees, she interrupted him, exclaiming impetuously: ‘I wish you will not be so foolish! I don’t care a button for the Pyrenees!’

  ‘You would care even less for them, had you ever been obliged to winter there,’ he observed. ‘You choose what we are to talk about! Only don’t say, Captain Staple! and then decide that I am not, after all, a trustworthy confidant.’

  Quite unused to such direct dealing, she stammered: ‘I d-didn’t! Why should I – How can I know that you are to be trusted? I never set eyes on you until yesterday!’

  ‘There, I am afraid, I can’t help you,’ he said. ‘It would be of very little use to tell you that I am entirely to be trusted, so perhaps we had better continue to discuss the Pyrenees.’

  There was an awful silence. ‘I beg your pardon!’ said Nell stiffly.

  ‘But why?’ asked John.

  ‘I did not mean to offend you.’

  ‘Of course not. I’m not offended