Seeing a possibility of walking into the river if I went on much farther, I turned back again in the more open direction of Kylam, and kept on briskly (as I reckon) for about five minutes more.
I had just stopped to look at my watch, when I saw something dark floating towards me, urged by the slow current of the river. As it came nearer, I thought I recognized the mill-boat.
It was one of the dark intervals when the moon was overcast. I was sufficiently interested to follow the boat, on the chance that a return of the moonlight might show me who could possibly be in it. After no very long interval, the yellow light for which I was waiting poured through the lifting clouds.
The mill-boat, beyond all doubt--and nobody in it! The empty inside of the boat was perfectly visible to me. Even if I had felt inclined to do so, it would have been useless to jump into the water and swim to the boat. There were no oars in it, and therefore no means of taking it back to the mill. The one thing I could do was to run to old Toller and tell him that his boat was adrift.
On my way to the cottage, I thought I heard a sound like the shutting of a door. I was probably mistaken. In expectation of my return, the door was secured by the latch only; and the miller, looking out of his bedroom window, said: "Don't forget to lock it, sir; the key's inside."
I followed my instructions, and ascended the stairs. Surprised to hear me in that part of the house, he came out on the landing in his nightgown.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing very serious," I said. "The boat's adrift. I suppose it will run on shore somewhere."
"It will do that, Mr. Gerard; everybody along the river knows the boat." He held up his lean trembling hand. "Old fingers don't always tie fast knots."
He went back into his bed. It was opposite the window; and the window, being at the side of the old cottage, looked out on the great open space above the river. When the moonlight appeared, it shone straight into his eyes. I offered to pull down the blind.
"Thank you kindly, sir; please to let it be. I wake often in the night, and I like to see the heavens when I open my eyes."
Something touched me behind: it was the dog. Like his noble and beautiful race, Ponto knew his friends. He licked my hand, and then he walked out through the bedroom door. Instead of taking his usual place, on the mat before Cristel's room, he smelt for a moment under the door--whined softly--and walked up and down the landing.
"What's the matter with the dog?" I asked.
"Restless to-night," said old Toller. "Dogs are restless sometimes. Lie down!" he called through the doorway.
The dog obeyed, but only for a moment. He whined at the door again--and then, once more, he walked up and down the landing.
I went to the bedside. The old man was just going to sleep. I shook him by the shoulder.
"There's something wrong," I said. "Come out and look at Ponto."
He grumbled--but he came out. "Better get the whip," he said.
"Before you do that," I answered, "knock at your daughter's door."
"And wake her?" he asked in amazement.
I knocked at the door myself. There was no reply. I knocked again, with the same result.
"Open the door," I said, "or I will do it myself."
He obeyed me. The room was empty; and the bed had not been slept in.
Standing helpless on the threshold of the door, I looked into the empty room; hearing nothing but my heart thumping heavily, seeing nothing but the bed with the clothes on it undisturbed.
The sudden growling of the dog shook me back (if I may say so) into the possession of myself. He was looking through the balusters that guarded the landing. The head of a man appeared, slowly ascending the stairs. Acting mechanically, I held the dog back. Thinking mechanically, I waited for the man. The face of the new servant showed itself. The dog frightened him: he spoke in tones that trembled, standing still on the stairs.
"My master has sent me, sir--"
A voice below interrupted him. "Come back," I heard the Cur say; "I'll do it myself. Toller! where is Toller?"
The enraged dog, barking furiously, struggled to get away from me. I dragged him--the good honest creature who was incapable of concealments and treacheries!--into his master's room. In the moment before I closed the door again, I saw Toller down on his knees with his arms laid helplessly on the window-sill, staring up at the sky as if he had gone mad. There was no time for questions; I drove poor Ponto back into the room, and shut the door.
On the landing, I found myself face to face with the Cur.
"You!" he said.
I lifted my hand. The servant ran between us. "For God's sake, control yourself, sir! We mean no harm. It's only to tell Mr. Toller that his boat is missing."
"Mr. Toller knows it already," I said. "No honest man would touch your master if he could help it. I warn him to go; and I make him understand me by a sign." I pointed down the stairs, and turned my head to look at him.
He was no longer before me. His face, hideously distorted by rage and terror, showed itself at the door of Cristel's empty room. He rushed out on me; his voice rose to the detestable screech which I had heard once already.
"Where have you hidden her? Give her back to me--or you die." He drew a pistol out of the breast-pocket of his coat. I seized the weapon by the barrel, and snatched it away from him. As the charge exploded harmlessly between us, I struck him on the head with the butt-end of the pistol. He dropped on the landing.
The door of Toller's room opened behind me. He stood speechless; the report of the pistol had terrified him. In the instant when I looked at the old man, I saw, through the window of his room, a rocket soar into the sky, from behind the promontory between us and Kylam.
Some cry of surprise must, I suppose, have escaped me. Toller suddenly looked round towards the window, just as the last fiery particles of the rocket were floating slowly downwards against the black clouds.
I had barely time enough to see this, before a trembling hand was laid on my shoulder, from behind. The servant, white with terror, pointed to his master.
"Have you killed him?" the man said.
The same question must have been in the mind of the dog. He was quiet now. Doubtfully, reluctantly, he was smelling at the prostrate human creature. I knelt down, and put my hand on the wretch's heart. Ponto, finding us both on a level together, gave me the dog's kiss; I returned the caress with my free hand. The servant saw me, with my attention divided in this way between the animal and the man.
"Damn it, sir," he burst out indignantly, "isn't a Christian of more importance than a dog?"
A Christian!--but I was in no humor to waste words. "Are you strong enough to carry him to his own side of the house?" I asked.
"I won't touch him, if he's dead!"
"He is not dead. Take him away!"
All this time my mind was pre-occupied by the extraordinary appearance of the rocket, rising from the neighborhood of a lonely little village between midnight and one in the morning.