"Not a d--n," answered Roden. "I have been poor--you haven"t. Why, man!
I have starved inside a good coat. You don"t know what that means."
Cornish looked at him, and said nothing. There was no mistaking the man"s sincerity--nor the manner in which his voice suddenly broke when he spoke of hunger.
"Then there are only two things left for me to do," said Cornish, after a moment"s reflection. "Ask your sister to marry me first, and smash you up afterwards."
Roden, who was smoking, threw his cigarette away. "You mean to do both these things?"
"Both."
Roden looked at him. He opened his lips to speak, but suddenly leapt back.
"Look out!" he cried, and had barely time to point over Cornish"s shoulder.
Cornish swung round on his heel. He belonged to a school and generation which, with all its faults, has, at all events, the redeeming quality of courage. He had long learnt to say the right thing, which effectually teaches men to do the right thing also. He saw some one running towards him, noiselessly, in rubber shoes. He had no time to think, and scarce a moment in which to act, for the man was but two steps away with an upraised arm, and in the lamplight there flashed the gleam of steel.
Cornish concentrated his attention on the upraised arm, seizing it with both hands, and actually swinging his a.s.sailant off his legs. He knew in an instant who it was, without needing to recognize the smell of malgamite. This was Otto von Holzen, who had not hesitated to state his opinion--that it is often worth a man"s while to kill another.
While his feet were still off the ground, Cornish let him go, and he staggered away into the darkness of the trees. Cornish, who was lithe and quick, rather than of great physical force, recovered his balance in a moment, and turned to face the trees. He knew that Von Holzen would come back. He distinctly hoped that he would. For man is essentially the first of the "game" animals and beneath fine clothes there nearly always beats a heart ready, quite suddenly, to s.n.a.t.c.h the fearful joy of battle.
Von Holzen did not disappoint him, but came flying on silent feet, like some beast of prey, from the darkness. Cornish had played half-back for his school not so many years before. He collared Von Holzen low, and let him go, with a cruel skill, heavily on his head and shoulder. Not a word had been spoken, and, in the stillness of the summer night, each could hear the other breathing.
Roden stood quite still. He could scarcely distinguish the antagonists.
His own breath came whistling through his teeth. His white face was ghastly and twitching. His sleepy eyes were awake now, and staring.
Each charge had left Cornish nearer to the ca.n.a.l. He was standing now quite at the edge. He could smell, but he could not see the water, and dared not turn his head to look. There is no railing here as there is nearer the town.
In a moment, Von Holzen was on his feet again. In the dark, mere inches are much equalized between men--but Von Holzen had a knife. Cornish, who held nothing in his hands, knew that he was at a fatal disadvantage.
Again, Von Holzen ran at him with his arm outstretched for a swinging stab. Cornish, in a flash of thought, recognized that he could not meet this. He stepped neatly aside. Von Holzen attempted to stop stumbled, half recovered himself, and fell headlong into the ca.n.a.l.
In a moment Cornish and Roden were at the edge, peering into the darkness. Cornish gave a breathless laugh.
"We shall have to fish him out," he said.
And he knelt down, ready to give a hand to Von Holzen. But the water, smooth again now, was not stirred by so much as a ripple.
"Suppose he can swim?" muttered Roden, uneasily.
And they waited in a breathless silence. There was something horrifying in the single splash, and then the stillness.
"Gad!" whispered Cornish. "Where is he?"
Roden struck a match, and held it inside his hat so as to form a sort of lantern, though the air was still enough. Cornish did the same, and they held the lights out over the water, throwing the feeble rays right across the ca.n.a.l.
"He cannot have swum away," he said. "Von Holzen," he cried out cautiously, after another pause--"Von Holzen--where are you?"
But there was no answer.
The surface of the ca.n.a.l was quite still and gla.s.sy in those parts that were not covered by the close-lying duck-weed. The water crept stealthily, slimily, towards the sea.
The two men held their breath and waited. Cornish was kneeling at the edge of the water, peering over.
"Where is he?" he repeated. "Gad! Roden, where is he?"
And Roden, in a hoa.r.s.e voice, answered at length "He is in the mud at the bottom--head downwards."
CHAPTER x.x.xI.
AT THE CORNER.
"L"homme s"agite et Dieu le mene."
The two men on the edge of the ca.n.a.l waited and listened again. It seemed still possible that Von Holzen had swum away in the darkness--had perhaps landed safely and unperceived on the other side.
"This," said Cornish, at length, "is a police affair. Will you wait here while I go and fetch them?"
But Roden made no answer, and in the sudden silence Cornish heard the eerie sound of chattering teeth. Percy Roden had morally collapsed.
His mind had long been t a great tension, and this shock had unstrung him. Cornish seized him by the arm, and held him while he hook like a leaf and swayed heavily.
"Come, man," said Cornish, kindly--"come, pull yourself together."
He held him steadily and patiently until the shaking eased.
"I"ll go," said Roden, at length. "I couldn"t stay ere alone."
And he staggered away towards The Hague. It seemed hours before he came back. A carriage rattled past Cornish while he waited there, and two foot-pa.s.sengers paused for a moment to look at him with some suspicion.
At last Roden returned, accompanied by a police official--a phlegmatic Dutchman, who listened to the story in silence. He shook his head at Cornish"s suggestion, made in halting Dutch mingled with German, that Von Holzen had swum away in the darkness.
"No," said the officer, "I know these ca.n.a.ls--and this above all others.
They will find him, planted in the mud at the bottom, head downward like a tulip. The head goes in and the hands are powerless, for they only grasp soft mud like a fresh junket." He drew his short sword from its sheath, and scratched a deep mark in the gravel. Then he turned to the nearest tree, and made a notch on the bark with the blade. "There is nothing to be done tonight," he said philosophically. "There are men engaged in dredging the ca.n.a.l. I will set them to work at dawn before the world is astir. In the mean time"--he paused to return his sword to its scabbard--"in the meantime I must have the names and residence of these gentlemen. It is not for me to believe or disbelieve their story."
"Can you go home alone? Are you all right now?" Cornish asked Roden, as he walked away with him towards the Villa des Dunes.
"Yes, I can go home alone," he answered, and walked on by himself, unsteadily.
Cornish watched him, and, before he had gone twenty yards, Roden stopped. "Cornish!" he shouted.
"Yes."
And they walked towards each other.
"I did not know that Von Holzen was there. You will believe that?"