The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [4616]
"No," said Dunn, "I don't think so, and I had better go now or Deede Dawson will be suspecting something. He'll want to know what I've been stopping out so late for. Good-bye, old chap, and good luck."
They shook hands.
"Good-bye and good luck, Rupert, old man," Walter said. "You may depend on me--you know that."
"Yes, I do know that," Dunn answered.
They shook hands again, and Dunn said: "You've hurt your hand. It's tied up. Is it anything much?"
"No, no," answered Walter with a little laugh. "A mere scratch. I scratched it on a bit of wood, a lid that didn't fit properly."
"Well, good-bye and good luck," Dunn said again, and they parted, Walter disappearing into the darkness and Dunn returning to the house.
Deede Dawson heard him enter, and he came to the door of the room in which he had been sitting.
"Oh, there you are," he said. "Been enjoying the night air or what? You've been a long time."
"I've been thinking," Dunn muttered in the heavy, sulky manner he always assumed at Bittermeads.
"Not weakening, eh?" asked Deede Dawson.
"No," answered Dunn. "I'm not."
"Good," Deede Dawson exclaimed. "There's a lot to win, and no fear of failure. I don't see that failure's possible. Do you?"
"No," answered Dunn. "I suppose not."
"The mate's sure this time," Deede Dawson declared. "It's our turn to move, and whatever reply the other side makes, we're sure of our mate next move. By the way, did you ever solve that problem I showed you the other day?"
"Yes, I think so," answered Dunn. "It was a long time before I could hit on the right move, but I managed it at last, I think."
"Come and show me, then," said Deede Dawson, bustling back into his room and beginning to set up the pieces on his travelling chess-board. "This was the position, wasn't it? Now, what's your move?"
Dunn showed him, and Deede Dawson burst into a laugh that had in it for once a touch of honest enjoyment.
"Yes, that would do it, but for one thing you haven't noticed," he said. "Black can push the pawn at KB7 and make it, not a queen, but a knight, giving check to your king and no mate for you next move."
"Yes, that's so," agreed Dunn. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Unexpected, eh? Making the pawn a knight?" smiled Deede Dawson. "But in chess, and in life, it's the unexpected you have to look out for."
"That's quite an aphorism," said Dunn. "It's true, too."
He went up to bed, but did not sleep well, and when at last he fell into a troubled slumber, it seemed to him that Charley Wright and John Clive were there, one on each side of him, and that they had come, not because they sought for vengeance, but because they wished to warn him of a doom like their own that they could see approaching but he could not.
Toward's morning he got an hour's sound rest, and he was down stairs in good time. He did not see Ella, but he heard her moving about, so knew that she was safe as yet; and Deede Dawson gave him some elaborate parting instructions, a little money, and a loaded revolver.
"I don't know that I want that," said Dunn. "My hands will be all I need once I'm face to face with Rupert Dunsmore."
"That's the right spirit," said Deede Dawson approvingly. "But the pistol may be useful too. You needn't use it if you can manage without, but you may as well have it. Good-bye, and the best of luck. Take care of yourself, and don't lose your head or do anything foolish."
"Oh, you can trust me," said Dunn.
"I think I can," smiled Deede Dawson. "I think I can. Good-bye. Be careful, avoid noise and fuss, don't be seen any more than you can help, and if you shoot, aim low."
"There's a vade mecum for the intending assassin," Dunn thought grimly to himself, but he said nothing, gave the other a sullen nod, and started off on his strange and weird mission of murdering himself. He found himself wondering if any one else had ever been in such a situation. He did not