I stopped. The noise grew louder. There seemed to be two runners, one moving with short, quick steps, the other, the one in front, taking a longer stride.
I drew aside instinctively. In another moment, making a great clatter on the frozen gravel, the first of the pair passed me; and as he did so, there was a sharp crack, and something sang through the darkness like a large mosquito.
The effect of the sound on the man who had been running was immediate. He stopped in his stride and dived into the bushes. His footsteps thudded faintly on the turf.
The whole incident had lasted only a few seconds, and I was still standing there when I was aware of the other man approaching. He had apparently given up the pursuit, for he was walking quite slowly. He stopped within a few feet of me and I heard him swearing softly to himself.
‘Who’s that?’ I cried sharply. The crack of the pistol had given a flick to my nerves. Mine had been a sheltered life, into which hitherto revolver-shots had not entered, and I was resenting this abrupt introduction of them. I felt jumpy and irritated.
It gave me a malicious pleasure to see that I had startled the unknown dispenser of shocks quite as much as he had startled me. The movement he made as he faced towards my direction was almost a leap; and it suddenly flashed upon me that I had better at once establish my identity as a non-combatant. I appeared to have wandered inadvertently into the midst of a private quarrel, one party to which–the one standing a couple of yards from me with a loaded revolver in his hand–was evidently a man of impulse, the sort of man who would shoot first and inquire afterwards.
‘I’m Mr Burns,’ I said. ‘I’m one of the assistant-masters. Who are you?’
‘Mr Burns?’
Surely that rich voice was familiar.
‘White?’ I said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing? Have you gone mad? Who was that man?’
‘I wish I could tell you, sir. A very doubtful character. I found him prowling at the back of the house very suspiciously. He took to his heels and I followed him.’
‘But’–I spoke querulously, my orderly nature was shocked–‘you can’t go shooting at people like that just because you find them at the back of the house. He might have been a tradesman.’
‘I think not, sir.’
‘Well, so do I, if it comes to that. He didn’t behave like one. But all the same–‘
‘I take your point, sir. But I was merely intending to frighten him.’
‘You succeeded all right. He went through those bushes like a cannon-ball.’
I heard him chuckle.
‘I think I may have scared him a little, sir.’
‘We must phone to the police-station. Could you describe the man?’
‘I think not, sir. It was very dark. And, if I may make the suggestion, it would be better not to inform the police. I have a very poor opinion of these country constables.’
‘But we can’t have men prowling–‘
‘If you will permit me, sir. I say–let them prowl. It’s the only way to catch them.’
‘If you think this sort of thing is likely to happen again I must tell Mr Abney.’
‘Pardon me, sir, I think it would be better not. He impresses me as a somewhat nervous gentleman, and it would only disturb him.’
At this moment it suddenly struck me that, in my interest in the mysterious fugitive, I had omitted to notice what was really the most remarkable point in the whole affair. How did White happen to have a revolver at all? I have met many butlers who behaved unexpectedly in their spare time. One I knew played the fiddle; another preached Socialism in Hyde Park. But I had never yet come across a butler who fired pistols.
‘What were you doing with a revolver?’ I asked.
He hesitated.
‘May I ask you to keep it to yourself, sir, if I tell you something?’ he said at last.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m a detective.’
‘What!’
‘A Pinkerton’s man, Mr Burns.’
I felt like one who sees the ‘danger’ board over thin ice. But for this information, who knew what rash move I might not have made, under the assumption that the Little Nugget was unguarded? At the same time, I could not help reflecting that, if things had been complex before, they had become far more so in the light of this discovery. To spirit Ogden away had never struck me, since his arrival at the school, as an easy task. It seemed more difficult now than ever.