Now, my Uncle Zabdiel had known me always as something subservient to his will, and apparently anxious to please him; he was to meet me now in a different mood. As we stood facing each other, in the grey light of the morning which filtered through a high window on to the staircase where we had met, I was able to realise that he would once more play the bully with me, if he felt it possible to do so, and that it behoved me to get the upper hand at once if I would bring myself with any credit out of the tangle. So I spoke sharply after that first ironical greeting of his; I wanted the man to understand that he had not to deal with the milk-and-water boy he had known something over a year before.
"I want a word with you," I said, "and I'll say it where it suits you best to hear it."
"By all means, my dear nephew," he said suavely. "If you will allow me to pass you, I will show you where we can talk in comfort."
I did not like his tone in the least; I began to understand that he had had the night in which to think over matters, and had doubtless made good use of the time. However, I followed him into that room from which not so long before I had seen Martha Leach emerge; and there I faced him, with the door shut behind me.
"You're only partly surprised to see me," I began at once. "You heard last night that I was alive, and almost in your neighbourhood. A woman told you."
That seemed to stagger him a little; he looked at me keenly and with a new interest. "How do you know that?" he demanded.
I laughed. "I know the woman who told you; she is no friend of mine, as you may imagine," I answered him. "It must have been rather a shock to you to know that the nephew of whom you had got rid so easily, and who had even apparently had the good sense to put an end to his miserable existence, was very much alive, and likely to trouble you again. Therefore I thought I'd follow up the tale by putting in an appearance at once, the better to relieve your pardonable anxiety."
He grinned at me in a fashion that would have been disconcerting to anyone else; but I was no longer afraid of him. "And what are your demands now?" he asked.
"I'm glad you use the right word," I retorted. "I do demand one or two things, and I'm sure that you'll see that it is best to comply with them. In the first place, I demand your silence as to myself."
"And if I refuse?" He had seated himself by this time in his usual chair, and he sat looking at me, with the heavy stick he carried laid across his knees. "What then?"
I had made up my mind what to say, and I said it at once, though with no real intention of ever putting my threat into execution; I merely wanted to frighten him.
"Then I shall kill you," I said quietly. "That is no idle threat, as you may perhaps understand. You're a cleverer man than I am, because I was never blessed with much brains; and you will see for yourself that, hunted wretch as I am, it does not matter very much what becomes of me. Nevertheless, I have the natural desire to live, and I only ask to be let alone. The Norton Hyde you knew is buried in the prison to which you sent him; let him rest there. A certain other man, who bears a resemblance to him, finds it necessary to pay you a visit——"
"To break into my house, you mean!" he exclaimed violently. "Your own action is the best answer that can be given to any such suggestion as you make in regard to secrecy. What safety is there for me while you are at large in the world? I'm an old and feeble man; you come here with threats on your lips to begin with."
"I threaten you only because I know what you intend to do," I replied. "I overheard you last night, promising the woman that I should be hunted down; even making arrangements with her as to how best to set about that hunting down. Consequently I have to protect myself."
He looked at me sourly for a moment or two, as though making up his mind how best to work round me. "So you've been in the house all night, have you?" he said. "I shouldn't have slept quite so soundly if I'd known that, I can assure you. My duty is clear; respectable citizens must be protected against escaped jail-birds and vagrants of your order."
He sprang from his chair, and made a movement towards a great bell rope that hung at the side of the fireplace. But I was too quick for him; I caught him by the arm, and swung him away from it, so that he lurched and staggered towards the other side of the room. There, panting, and with his stick half raised as though to strike me down, he stood watching me.
"Now, I don't want to hurt you," I said; "but in this matter I am desperate. There is more hangs to it than you can understand. You've done evil enough; the money I stole from you has been paid for in one long year of bitter bondage—paid for doubly, by reason of the fact that I have no name, and no place in the world, and no hope, and no future. You've taken your toll out of me; all I ask now is to be let alone."
"I won't do it!" he almost shrieked at me. "You shall go back to your prison; you shall rot there for just so many years as they will add to your original sentence. You shan't live among honest men; you shall go back to your prison."
I think no shame even now of what I did. My rage against the vindictive old man was so great that I wonder I did not strike the feeble life out of him where he stood mouthing at me. I strode up to him and wrenched the stick out of his hands, took him by the collar of his dressing-gown and shook him backwards and forwards, until at last, half in terror and half in weakness, he dropped upon his knees before me.
"Don't—don't kill me, Norton," he whimpered.
"Then you must swear to me to let me alone," I said. "Promise that, and I'll never come near you again, and you shall never hear of me again. It's an easy thing to do; surely you must see for yourself that I can't rush into the light of day; I should never have come near you to-night, but that by the merest chance I found out that the woman Martha Leach was coming to you, and so guessed what her errand was. Come—swear to leave me alone!"
"I swear—I do truly swear!" he said; and I took my hands from him and let him stagger to his feet.
He got back to his chair again, and sat there, breathing hard, with his lips opening and shutting; I saw that he had had a bad fright. I do not think, after all, that even in my rage I could have killed him, badly as he had served me; but I was relieved now to see that I had effected my purpose. I did not think he would be likely to trouble me again with any threats of exposure; for the first time in his life he appeared to have a very wholesome dread of me. Indeed, now he began, as soon as he had got his breath, to seek in some measure to propitiate me.
"I was excited—annoyed," he said. "Of course, my dear boy, I should never have done anything against you—not really, you know. But it was a great shock to me, when that woman came and told me that you were alive and in the neighbourhood—that was a horrible shock. Not but what, Norton, I was glad, in a way—glad to know that you were alive again."
"We'll take that for granted," I said with a laugh. "We have no reason to love each other, you and I, Uncle Zabdiel; and all I ask is that you shall forget that you ever saw me after I disappeared into my prison. To you, and to anyone else in the world who may be interested in the information, I am John New."
"Is that the name you have given yourself?" he asked sharply.
"The name that has been given to me by a certain friend I have found," I replied. "I spoke just now of a second matter about which I wanted to talk to you—a matter of serious moment to myself, and one in which you can do a kindly action."
He looked at me in the old suspicious manner; yet I saw that in his fear of me he was anxious to please me. "What is it?" he demanded. "And why should I do it? I don't believe in kindly actions."
I seated myself on the table beside him, and laid the heavy stick behind me. "Uncle Zabdiel," I began, leaning down so as to look into his eyes, "you're an old man, and, in the ordinary course of things, you can't have very long to live."
"What the devil are you talking about?" he exclaimed angrily. "There's nothing the matter with me; I'm younger and stronger, in my feelings at least, than I ever was. I'm hale and hearty."
"You're a weak and defenceless old man, living all alone, with no one in the world to care for you—with no one to trouble much whether you live or whether you die," I went on persistently. "God knows you might have made something of me, if you'd ever set about it in any other fashion than that you chose to adopt; but you killed Norton Hyde, and he's done with and forgotten. And you're going on in the same hard, grinding fashion for the rest of your days, until some day, if nothing happens to you——"
He looked at me with gaping mouth. "What should happen to me?" he asked in a whisper.
I shrugged my shoulders. "How can I possibly tell?" I answered. "I say that if nothing happens to you, some fine morning you'll be found lying out stark and stiff on that great bed of yours upstairs, with your eyes open or shut, as the case may be; and you'll be just the husk of a poor old creature who couldn't take his gold with him, and has slipped away in the night to meet the God whose laws of humanity and tenderness he had outraged from the beginning. Yes, Uncle Zabdiel, you'll be just a dead old man, leaving behind you certain property, to be squabbled over and fought over. And that will be the end of you."
"You're trying to frighten me," he said, with nervous fingers plucking at his lips. "I'm very well, and I'm very strong."
"I'm not trying to frighten you; I'm telling you facts. It is just left for you to set against all the wrong you have done one little good deed that may help to balance matters at the finish. And you won't do it."
"I never said I wouldn't do it," he pleaded. "You take me up so suddenly, Norton; you've no patience. I am an old man, as you say, and sometimes my health and strength are not what they were; but, then, doctors are so infernally expensive. Tell me what you want me to do, my boy; I'll do it if I can."
I was so certain that I had absolutely subdued him that I did not hesitate to lay my plan before him: it was a plan I had had in my mind all the day before, and for some part at least of that night I had spent in the house.
"There is a young lady whom I have met under curious circumstances," I began earnestly, "and that young lady is in great danger."
"What's that to do with me?" he snapped, with something of his old manner.
"Will you listen?" I asked impatiently. "Just understand that this young lady is nothing to me, and never can be anything; but I want to help her. She hasn't a friend in the world except myself, and I want to find some place to which, in an emergency, I can bring her, and where she will be safe. I tell you frankly I wouldn't suggest this to you if there were any other place on earth to which I could take her; but every other way of escape seems barred. If I can persuade her to trust me, will you give her shelter here?"
He looked up at me for a moment or two. I saw that it was in his mind to refuse flatly to have anything to do with the matter. But he had been more shaken that night even than I suspected, and he was afraid to refuse me anything. Nevertheless, he began to beat round the question, in the hope of evading a direct answer to it.
"What should I do with a girl here?" he asked. "There's only one old woman who comes to the house to look after me. This is no place for a girl; besides, if she's a decent sort of girl, she ought to have a mother or a father, or some sort of relative, to look after her."
"I've told you that she's absolutely alone in the world," I replied to that.
"And what's her danger?" he asked. "We live in the twentieth century, and there are the police——"
"CanIapply to the police?" I asked him.
"No, I suppose you can't," he acknowledged. "Well, at any rate, let me know what you want me to do, and how long the girl will stop—and I'll do the best I can. After all, perhaps what you said about me being an old man, and being found dead, and all that sort of thing—perhaps it may have some truth in it. And I've not been so very hard on people, and even if I have, you seem to think that this kindness to the young lady will make it all right for me. Because, you know," he added, with a shake of the head, "it's a great deal to ask anyone to do. Girls are more nuisance than they're worth. Boys are bad enough—but girls!" He held up his hands in horror at the mere thought of them.
I felt very grateful to him, and quite elated at my success. I took one of his feeble old hands, which he yielded with reluctance, and shook it warmly. "You're doing a greater kindness than you can imagine," I said. "I'll let you know if I can persuade the girl to come here; I won't take you by surprise again."
"I'm glad to know that, at least," he said. "You've given me an awful shock as it is. Now I suppose you'll go away again quietly?"
"Yes," I said, getting down from the table, "I'll go away again. But let me give you a word of warning, Uncle Zabdiel: even the best of us are inclined to forget promises in this world. You have sworn that you will not tell any one my secret."
"My dear boy," he whined, "do you seriously think that I should betray you?"
"No," I answered, "I don't think you would. It would be bad for you if you did; my vengeance would reach quite a long way."
"All right, my boy," he replied hastily, as he got to his feet and moved away from me. "No threats; no threats; they are quite unnecessary."
When I left him it was fully daylight. I came out of the house into the narrow, high-walled garden, and left him standing at the door in his black skull-cap and dressing-gown, peering out at me; then the door was closed, and the dark house swallowed him up.
I was now quite determined that I would go back to the house of Bardolph Just, and would find out for myself what was happening there. I had no real hope of meeting Debora, save by accident; I knew that since my disclosure I was less to her than any common tramp she might meet upon the roadside. But when I thought of her, without a friend, in that great house, and with one man and one woman at least bent upon her death, I felt that private considerations must be tossed aside, and that I must swallow my pride and my sense of injury, and must go to her help. If by some good fortune I could persuade her that the jail-bird she knew me to be was swallowed up in the man who hopelessly loved her, and was eager to help her, I might yet be able to perform that miracle of saving her. I felt that I had conquered the man I had least hope of conquering—Uncle Zabdiel; I was less afraid of others than I had been of him.
The thought of Martha Leach troubled me most; there was something so implacable about her enmity. That she meant to destroy the girl, I knew; and I felt certain, from what I had heard, that she was equally bent on destroying me. I chuckled to myself at the thought that in that second business I had defeated her; I was equally confident that I should defeat her in the first. For in defeating her I knew that my surest weapon would be the doctor himself, because anything that happened to me in the way of exposure must bring that dead man from his grave, and must revive that scandal he was so anxious to cover up. I made a shrewd guess that the woman, in rushing full tilt against me, was doing so blindly, and without consulting Bardolph Just. Knowing the power of that man over her, I thought that I could stop her even more easily than I had stopped my uncle.
However, I had blundered badly once or twice by plunging headlong into matters that required careful consideration; with a new wisdom that was coming to me, I determined to reform that trait in my character, and to weigh what I purposed doing for a few hours before setting about it. I would marshal my facts, and so have them ready at my tongue's end when I wanted them.
Thus it happened that I spent a large part of the day wandering about, and striving to arrive at some definite plan of action. It was late in the afternoon when I went at last to the house of Bardolph Just, and opened the outer gate and walked into the grounds. I will confess that my heart was beating a little heavily, because I knew that I might at any moment meet Debora, and I could guess what her attitude would be. However, I came to the house, and rang the bell, and waited to be admitted.
The servant who came to the door at last looked at me in some little surprise, I thought, but greeted me civilly enough. I enquired for the doctor as I stood in the hall; I thought the man seemed astonished that I should ask the question.
"Dr. Just is away, sir. Everybody's away, sir," he said.
"Away?" I stared at the man in a dazed fashion, wondering what he meant. "Everybody?"
"Yes, sir. Dr. Just, and Mr. Scoffold, and Miss Debora. They've all gone down to Green Barn, in Essex, sir. Quite a large party, sir," went on the man garrulously. "Mrs. Leach has gone with them."
I kept my head lowered, that the man might not see the expression on my face. "When did they go?" I asked slowly.
"Yesterday, sir. Dr. Just said they would go down for some shooting."
The man spoke glibly enough as he told his news, and I stood awkwardly in front of him, wondering what I should do. After a long pause I looked up, and asked, "Is there no one here at all, except yourself and the other servants?"
"Oh, yes, sir! I quite forgot," said the man. "Old Capper is here, and another party that the doctor left behind to look after him. Rather a rough sort of party, sir—name of Rabbit."
"Where are they?" I asked quickly. "I want to see them."
The man told me that they were in a little room at the back of the house, and I went there at once. I was more disturbed in my mind about this than about anything else; filled with perplexity that Capper should have been brought back to that house, as I guessed he must have been by Harvey Scoffold; still more puzzled to know why George Rabbit had appeared on the scene, and what the purpose could be in putting him in charge of that amiable old madman, Capper. I opened the door of the room and walked in.
George Rabbit was lounging on a window-seat by an open window, smoking a pipe; Capper sat upright on a chair, looking at the other man with that curious half-wistful, half-puzzled expression that I had seen on his face before. Mr. Rabbit did not take the trouble to move when I entered; he merely waved a hand nonchalantly, and went on smoking.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded of him.
"Got a noo job—an' a rummy sort o' job at that," he replied, with a jerk of his head in the direction of Capper. "Plenty to eat an' drink, 'an a nice fevver bed to sleep in, 'an on'y him to keep a eye on. Rum ole cove, ain't 'e?"
"I thought I warned you to keep away from this place, and to keep away from me," I said sternly.
"You did, 'an you wasn't too nice about the language you put it in," he said complacently, as he puffed out a huge volume of smoke. "But, yer see, I wasn't goin' to be ordered abaht by the likes o' you, an' so I jist made up my mind I'd come along, an' 'ave a little talk wiv the doctor. Nice man, the doctor—real tip-top gent."
"But Dr. Just warned you to keep away from here," I reminded him.
"Yus, but, yer see, I put it plain to the doctor that I might be a bit useful to 'is nibs—a deal more useful inside, w'ere I couldn't talk, than outside, w'ere I could. The doctor seemed to see it in the same way, an' so 'e left me in charge of this ole chap, wot seems to 'ave a tile loose; an' 'e's gorn orf into the country to 'ave a pot at the dicky birds, an' the rabbits an' fings."
"And are you to stop here until he comes back?" I asked.
"That's the ticket," he replied. "An' wot's yer 'ighness goin' to do?"
"I don't know; at all events, nothing that concerns you," I answered.
"Perlite and haffable as ever!" commented Mr. Rabbit. "By the way, I unnerstood that you'd gorn, an' that we wasn't goin' to see any more of yer. You might let me know w'ere you're goin' to live—fer the sake of ole times."
I guessed why he wanted to know my movements. I shrewdly suspected that the woman Martha Leach had already given him Zabdiel Blowfield's message. Therefore, although my mind was pretty firmly made up as to what I must do, I determined to put him off the scent.
"Oh, in all probability, I shall remain here for the present," I said.
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Rabbit heartily. "Then I shall 'ave company. Between you an' me, I'm a little tired of ole waxworks 'ere, wot sits smilin' an' never syin' a word, except to ask about 'is young master. I tell yer, 'e fair gits on my nerves."
"I'll go and see if my room's ready," I said; and walked out of the room.
Going into the dining-room, I rang the bell, and waited until the servant who had admitted me put in an appearance; then I asked a question quite casually.
"By the way, what place did you say the doctor had gone to? Was it Green Barn?"
"Yes, sir. I was down there myself last year. Very pretty place, sir. Comerford is the station. Essex, sir."
"Oh, I see!" I answered with a yawn. "By the way, I shall stay here to-night. Is my room ready?"
"Just as you left it, sir," said the man.
I dismissed him, and then proceeded to empty my pockets, to discover what money I had. I knew that I must get to Comerford that night; I began to be oppressed with dreadful fears of what might happen in a lonely country house, with the girl at the mercy of these three people, all conspiring against her. For by this time I reckoned Harvey Scoffold as being shoulder to shoulder with the other two in the business.
I found that I had exactly two shillings and threepence, and there seemed no prospect of my getting any more. I was desperate by this time, and I knew that every moment was precious; if I missed the last train I might as well not go at all. I determined that in such a cause as this any scruples of conscience I might have must go to the winds; I must resume my old trade which had once brought me into disaster.
I looked about for the most valuable article I could discover, and presently found it, in a beautiful old-fashioned watch, lying upon a cabinet merely as an ornament; it was a wonderful piece of workmanship, in three exquisitely engraved and pierced cases. I slipped it into my pocket, and got my cap and a walking-stick from the hall, and slipped unobserved out of the house.
In an old curiosity shop in Heath Street, Hampstead, I sold the watch—after some haggling I got six pounds for it. Coming out of the place the richer by that sum, I found a cab, and drove at once to Liverpool Street Station. There I found, by great good fortune, that a train was to leave for Comerford in less than a quarter of an hour. I took my seat, and in due course alighted without further adventure at the little out-of-the-way station bearing that name. Not wishing to attract attention in a place where, doubtless, the doctor was well known, I strolled out of the station into the quiet dusk of the summer evening, and took my way down into the village.
You may be sure that I kept a sharp look-out, lest by any chance I should stumble upon anyone from Green Barn; and I determined that when I made enquiries for the place it should be from someone not likely to pay much attention to me or to note my appearance. I meant to move slowly but steadily, making as few false steps as possible; and I knew that the first thing to be done was to get to the house and find out what was happening there.
In the first place, however, I made up my mind that I would procure a bed for the night. I chose a little clean inn in a back street, and for a matter of a shilling or two settled to keep the room as long as I wanted it. Lounging in the doorway of it with the landlord, I made a casual enquiry as to what places of interest there were in the neighbourhood; and the man, after reeling off a long catalogue of places about which I cared nothing, came at last to Green Barn, and told me where it lay. I stored that information in my mind, and a little later strolled out to find the place.
I found that it lay some little distance from the village, and was surrounded by very considerable grounds and fields, and a great growth of trees that might, perhaps, by a stretch be called a wood. In the twilight I saw rabbits hopping about, and heard the cries of birds among the trees and bushes. I gathered that there would be there what I believe is known as "good mixed shooting."
The house itself stood in a hollow, and I set it down at once as being decidedly lonely and damp. It had unwholesome-looking green lichens stuck about it here and there, and the outhouses were in a bad state of repair. As I moved cautiously round it, keeping well within shelter, I saw no dogs, nor did I observe any stir of life about it, as one might expect to see about the country house of a prosperous man. A few lights were showing in the windows, and when presently I came to the front of the house, I saw that the great hall door was standing wide open. Once or twice I saw a servant cross this, and disappear, as though going from one room to the other. Presently, as I lay hidden, I saw Harvey Scoffold come out with a big cigar between his lips, and his arms swaying about lazily above his head, as he stretched himself. He seated himself in a creaking wicker chair on the porch, and I lay watching the glowing end of his cigar for a long time.
Bardolph Just came out presently, and joined him. They sat knee to knee for a while, with their heads bent forward, talking in low tones; I could not distinguish what was said. Presently both the heads turned, and the men glanced towards the lighted hall behind them; then the doctor sprang up, and pushed back his chair.
Then I saw Debora come slowly down the hall to the porch. The doctor spoke to her, and I saw her shake her head. My heart was thumping so that I had a foolish feeling that they must hear it, and discover me where I lay hidden.
The girl came down the few steps from the porch, and turned off into the grounds. Bardolph Just, after standing looking after her for a long minute, sat down again, and went on talking to Scoffold. So far as Debora was concerned, she confined her walk to an avenue among the trees, up and down which she paced for half an hour, with her hands hanging loosely at her sides, and with an air of utter desolation and dejection upon her. During all that time she only stopped once.
It was at the end of the avenue furthest from the house, and nearest to where I lay among the bushes. She stopped, and laid an arm against the trunk of a tree, and put her head against the arm; and so stood for a long time, as I felt sure, weeping softly. What I suffered in that time I will not try to explain; I would have given anything and everything to be able to steal up to her, and to put my arms about her, and to comfort her. But that was, of course, clearly impossible.
She went back into the house at last, passing between the two men and leaving them together on the porch. I determined that I would keep my vigil as long as they did, even though I could not overhear what was said. I could see that the doctor was laying down the law upon some matter to Harvey Scoffold. I could see every now and then first one and then the other turn sharply and glance into the lighted hall, as though fearing to be overheard. At last Scoffold, with a gesture of impatience, got up and came down the steps; the great bulk of him blotted out the other man for a moment.
Immediately afterwards the doctor rose, and marched down the steps also, until he came to where Harvey Scoffold was standing. They moved off arm-in-arm into that avenue in which but a little time before the girl had walked so long; and now I strained my ears, in the hope that I might catch what they said. But only scraps of conversation floated to me.
"Don't be a fool, Harvey," I heard the doctor say, "there is absolutely no danger ... the merest accident."
"I can't say I like it at all; it may seem suspicious. Lonely country place, and you with an interest in the girl's death. I consider it much too risky."
They passed me, and came slowly back again. And what I heard then was startling enough, in all conscience. It was the doctor who spoke.
"Gun accidents have happened before to-day, and will happen again, especially over such land as this."
I remembered then what I had been told about this shooting party that had been organised; I wondered what they meant to do. I could only shrewdly guess that in some fashion the girl was to be drawn into the matter, and that the doctor had plotted with Harvey Scoffold that an apparent accident of some sort should take place. I did not need to be told who the victim was to be. I lay there, long after they had gone into the house and the door had been closed, wondering what I should do, and realising more and more with every minute how utterly helpless I was. To warn the girl was impossible, because, even if I got speech with her, she would in all probability refuse to believe anything I said. To set myself face to face with Harvey Scoffold and the doctor would be absurd, because they would, of course, deny that any such conversation had taken place, or at least deny the construction I had put upon their words. I lay there until very late, debating the matter, and at last came to a desperate resolve.
If they meant murder, then I determined that murder should be met with murder. In some way that was at present vague in my mind I determined that I would follow the party on the morrow, if that was the time arranged, and if I could only secure some weapon, even if I were not in time to save her, her death should be avenged. I went home with my head singing, and with, as it seemed, the sky blood-red above me.
I thought at first that I would borrow a gun from the landlord of the inn, but as I looked a peaceful sort of fellow, I came to the conclusion that that must at once throw suspicion upon me. I determined, just before I went to bed, that I would go very early to Green Barn in the morning, and there would let Fate decide for me at the last moment. I undressed and went to bed, but it was long before my eyes closed in sleep.
I was abroad early, and was actually in the grounds before the house was astir. I guessed that if this was the date on which they meant to put their plan into execution, they would make for that more secluded wood I had observed the night before, and I determined that when the time came I would take my station there. But first I made up my mind that I must have a weapon, and boldly enough I decided that I would get that, if the worst came to the worst, from the house itself. With that purpose in mind, I crept as near to the house as I could, with a view to observing how the rooms were placed, and in the hope that I might discover the gun-room, if such a place existed.
Fortune favoured me. I worked my way gradually round towards the back of the house, and judged that the party were at breakfast, by the fact that now and then a servant crossed a small paved yard, bearing dishes. I counted the number of times she went, and I reckoned my chances on two things. First, I guessed that some of the servants would be in the dining-room, and the others in the kitchens, which were detached from the house; the servant I saw pass to and fro was the messenger between both. And while I noted that fact, I saw that the gun-room was just off the small hall into which she went each time she carried anything across. I could see the shining barrels against the walls distinctly.
What I purposed doing was this. Counting the time carefully, I would wait for her to cross the yard and to go into the house; then, when she had disappeared, I would follow, and would get into the gun-room. Before she came out of the house again I should have time to select a weapon and to load it; to remain concealed in the gun-room, into which she was not likely to look; and to come out and make my way into the grounds after she had disappeared into the kitchens.
My plan prospered as well as I had hoped. I slipped into the gun-room as the girl disappeared into the house, and in a moment I had a gun down from its place, and had slipped the cartridges into position. Making sure that all was right, I crouched behind the door, and saw the girl pass and cross the yard, and disappear; then I stole out, and, getting clear of the house, ran hard for the woods. There I dropped down into a little hollow in the thickest part of the trees, and waited.
In something less than half an hour I saw them coming towards me from the direction of the house; Harvey Scoffold and the doctor, with Debora walking between. She was dressed smartly in a shooting costume, and carried a light gun over her shoulder, as did the others. They made straight for the woods; and I lay there, with murder in my heart and the gun gripped in my fingers.
My feeling of horror at what I instinctively knew was soon to happen was perhaps increased by the fact that this morning the girl seemed to be in the brightest possible humour. She was laughing and chatting, turning first to one man and then to the other, as she stepped gaily along between them. Nor were Harvey Scoffold and Bardolph Just lacking in apparent good humour; Harvey Scoffold, in particular, was laughing boisterously. Every now and then the two men would exchange glances behind the unconscious girl, as though assuring each other that they were ready for some signal to pass from one to the other.
They came straight on down through the wood, with one figure now hidden for a moment by the trees, and then the three of them fully in sight again. In the hollow where I lay I now and then heard a quick rustling, and saw a rabbit dart across and disappear; I realised that I might be in some danger if the party fired in my direction. But concerning that I was quite reckless.
Debora proved to be a capital shot, and Harvey Scoffold was second only to her. The doctor fired only once, and then he missed; I saw the girl turn and look at him, and laugh. And his face was not pleasant to see.
At last I saw what I had expected. Harvey Scoffold and the girl moved forward a little, and the doctor stopped. I saw Scoffold look back, with a sharp turn of the head for a moment; saw him glance sideways at the girl. I raised myself a little, and, with my heart thumping against my ribs, levelled the gun I held, and looked along the smooth, shining barrel of it until I had Bardolph Just squarely at the end of it.
A rabbit darted across, straight in front of Harvey Scoffold and the girl; I saw it out of the tail of my eye as I watched the doctor. Both guns spoke, and even as they did so I saw Bardolph Just with his gun to his shoulder, and the barrel pointing straight at the girl's back, not five yards in front of him. It was all so sudden—first the bark of the two guns in front—then my own weapon seemed to go off at the same moment. In my excitement I let him have both barrels; I saw his own gun explode harmlessly in the air, and then fall from his hands. He dropped to his knees with a cry, and held his left wrist with the fingers of his right hand locked round it. His face was very white, and he rocked himself backwards and forwards as he knelt there, and bit his lower lip until I saw a faint trickle of blood down his chin.
I knew that I had in all probability shattered his wrist; so much at least I hoped. The others had run back, and the girl was kneeling beside him, while Scoffold stood staring at him in very genuine amazement. I saw the doctor turn his head swiftly and look sharply in my direction; then he said something in a low tone to Scoffold. I could not hear what was said, but I saw him stagger to his feet, with the help of the girl, and saw them go slowly towards the house. Harvey Scoffold stood still, looking after them for a moment; then he turned sharply and faced towards where I was. I saw him open the breech of his gun and slip a cartridge in; then he walked straight towards me.
My gun was of course empty, but when he first caught sight of me I was kneeling in a very business-like attitude, with the weapon levelled. He looked straight down the barrels of it. He stopped, and I saw him fumbling with the trigger of his own.
"Have a care, Mr. Scoffold," I said quietly. "I have you covered."
"What are you doing there?" he stammered.
"I'll tell you presently," I answered him, still keeping my gun raised. "Now, reverse that gun of yours; come a little nearer. That's it; now lay it on the grass. Go back a pace or two; now stand still. And remember that if you play any tricks I'm in a mood to blow your brains out. I shall shootyouthrough the head, Mr. Harvey Scoffold—not through the arm."
By this time he was standing some paces away, his arms hanging by his sides. I got up, and stepped forward to where his gun lay, and picked it up. I dropped my own behind me. "Perhaps you'd like to know," I said, after I had made sure that the gun I had taken from him was loaded, "that my own weapon was unloaded. The doctor had both barrels."
I heard him mutter something under his breath, and I guessed pretty accurately what it was. He kept his eyes on me, evidently watching for a way of escape; he shifted his feet uneasily, as he stood there covered by his own gun.
"Now, Harvey Scoffold, I'll have a little explanation with you before I go up to the house," I said. "You were in the plot to murder this young girl. Be careful how you answer me, for my temper is such at this moment that my fingers itch for this trigger."
"My dear fellow—I do assure you——" he began; but at the look in my eyes he hung his head, and blurted out the truth.
"What could I do?" he muttered. "I did my best to stop it—to persuade the doctor to abandon the idea. I only came out this morning because I thought—because I hoped I might be able to prevent it."
"You are lying, Harvey Scoffold," I told him. "I have been here both last night and since early this morning; I have seen everything, and heard a great deal. You were in the plot; you were to hold the attention of the girl while murder was done. If I had not been here she would be lying dead now."
"It's true," he said. "I'm bound to confess it's true. But I thank God you came in time!"
"Bah!" I ejaculated contemptuously. "I don't like your penitence, Mr. Scoffold. Now turn about and go up to the house. I'll follow you."
He hesitated for a moment, and then turned and walked towards the house. I picked up the other gun and followed him, and in that order we came to the house, and marched up the steps and into the hall. He looked back at me over his shoulder then.
"Which way?" he asked sulkily.
"I want to see the doctor," I replied, setting the guns down in a corner. "Lead the way; I'll follow you."
He turned into a room on the right, crossed it, and came to a door at the other side. Opening this, he passed through, and I followed him. Directly I got into the room I saw before me a curious little scene, and one that, even now, in the recollection of it, sends a thrill at once of pity and of admiration through me, however unwillingly. The doctor was seated by a table, on which was spread a white cloth; an open case of surgical instruments was by his side. Leaning across the table was Martha Leach, doing something with a bowl of water and a small sponge. Very slowly and calmly Bardolph Just was cleaning the broken flesh and bone, quite as calmly, save for an occasional spasm of pain that crossed his face, as though he had been operating on a patient. He turned his head for a moment as we came into the room, and stopped what he was doing.
"Take that fellow away!" he shouted.
But I stood my ground. "Thanks," I replied, "I prefer to remain. There is a word or two to be said between us, doctor; but pray don't let me interrupt what you are doing. Your injury is not quite as bad as I had hoped; but then I am not much good behind a gun. I hoped to hit a vital spot."
"Why did you shoot me?" he asked sullenly.
"Don't ask idle questions," I retorted. "Get on with your work."
He rewarded me for that remark with a scowl, and went on again with the work in hand. Now and then he gave a quick order, half under his breath, to the obedient Martha Leach, who waited upon him slavishly; under his direction she presently bound up the arm, after cutting splints for it according to a fashion he told her. Then, in obedience to a sign from him, she brought him a small glass of spirits, which he drank quickly; I saw the colour begin to come back into his white face.
"That was an ordeal, Harvey," he said. "Upon my word, I didn't think I had the courage. I think it'll mend all right now; both bones were shattered."
He took not the faintest notice of me, as he presently laid his hand in a sling which the woman Leach dexterously twisted round his neck. He nodded to her in token that she should go; and she went slowly out of the room, carrying the cloth and basin with her; she gave me a deadly look as she passed me. But for her looks I no longer cared.
Perhaps the least composed of the three of us was Harvey Scoffold; he fidgeted about from one foot to the other, and strove to whistle a tune; and all the while glanced furtively at Bardolph Just or at myself. Bardolph Just, for his part, stood like a man slowly making up his mind to something; I saw, besides, that he was raging within himself with pain, and mortification, and chagrin, and could with difficulty control his feelings. When at last he looked up he repeated that question he had asked before.
"Why did you shoot me?"
"I preferred to shoot you rather than see murder done; I meant to kill you, if I could, because I counted your life more worthless than that of Miss Debora Matchwick."
"I was not going to kill her," he said sullenly.
"No," I answered him, "there was to be an accident, and no one would have been more sorry than her dear, devoted guardian at the deplorable result of that accident! You need not lie to me, Dr. Just; your accomplice has already given the game away."
He glanced quickly at Harvey Scoffold, and that gentleman merely shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands protestingly; but I saw that the doctor believed that Scoffold had been made to speak. The doctor walked across to the window, and stood there looking out for some time. He spoke at last, without turning his head.
"You constitute yourself judge and executioner both," he said. "If you had killed me I think it must have proved a hanging matter for you, Mr. Jail-bird."
"But I should have saved the girl," I answered. "What is my life worth, that I should weigh it in the balance when there is a question of her safety?"
"What are you going to do?" he asked, turning his head a little.
"I am going to see Miss Matchwick, and I am going to put the case fairly before her," I replied steadily. "I intend to tell her of the three attempts you have made upon her life; I intend to let her understand that your game, Dr. Just, is murder."
"Very fine, and very brave," he remarked; then he suddenly swung round on me, and barked out a question. "If you are so certain of your facts, why not go to the police—why not stop this game of murder, as you call it?"
"You know I can't do that," I said. "In the first place I cannot even declare who I am, nor why I'm in your house; and in the second, as you know, I have no proof."
He walked across to where Harvey Scoffold was standing, and nudged him with his free arm in the ribs. "Hark to him, Harvey—hark to this fine talker! He has no proof—and he dare not show himself as other men might. This thing without a name is going to do doughty deeds for the sake of a young girl; he claims already to have saved her three times from death. What is anybody to make of it, if he chooses to tell his story?"
"I make this of it," I broke in hotly. "I am here to see Miss Matchwick; I will put the thing fairly before her. If I can do nothing else, I can at least show her where her danger lies, so that she may not walk into it without her eyes open."
I never understood the man until long afterwards—at least, I never understood him fully; perhaps if I had I should have been prepared for the desperate chances he took, and for the sheer recklessness with which he carried matters through. He turned now to Scoffold, and said quickly—
"That's a good notion, Harvey; that's a fair and just thing to say. We've had enough of this fellow, who brags and boasts, and shoots men from behind bushes. The young lady shall judge for us, and shall give him his dismissal. It's a good idea, and one that we will see carried out. Fetch Debora here."
"Stop!" I cried, as Harvey Scoffold was moving towards the door. "We'll have no underhand tricks, and no warnings. Ring the bell, and send a servant for Miss Matchwick."
Scoffold stopped and looked at the doctor; the latter slowly nodded his head. So it came about that Scoffold rang the bell, and on the coming of the servant requested that Miss Debora should be asked to step that way. After the man had retired, and while we waited in a grim silence for the coming of Debora, I felt my cheeks begin to flame; almost it seemed as though I felt again the sharp tingling pain where she had lashed me across the face.
When the door opened at last the girl came in quickly. She walked straight towards where the doctor stood, and spoke at once impulsively.
"Oh, I am so sorry—so very sorry!" she said. "How did it happen? Have you found out who did it?"
Bardolph Just did not speak; he simply looked at me. Following the direction of his eyes, she turned also and looked at me. I saw her draw herself up with that quick little lift of her chin; I saw a dawning smile in the doctor's eyes.
"What is that man doing here?" she asked.
"He came, my dear Debora, with a purpose—a purpose which he has partly accomplished. My broken wrist tells its own tale; had he had his way, I should probably not be speaking to you now."
"Had he had his way, Miss Debora," I blurted out, "you would be lying dead somewhere in this house—as the result of an accident!"
I saw her face blanch; she turned furtive, frightened eyes for a moment on the doctor. He shook his head, with a lifting of the eyebrows which seemed to suggest that he left such a mad accusation to be judged properly by her; and she flashed round on me.
"I don't believe it—I don't believe a word of it!" she said.
"Thank you, my dear child," said Bardolph Just. "I might have known what your answer would be."
"Very satisfactory—quite what might have been expected," murmured Scoffold.
The girl had turned her head, and was looking at me steadily. What was in her mind I could not tell, for her face told me nothing. Scorn of me I could read, and contempt; I felt my heart sink, even while I nerved myself for the task before me.
"Is that why I am sent for?" she said. "Is it to hear such an accusation as this? Is this what you had to say to me?"
Still her eyes looked contemptuously into mine, where I stood half abashed before her; still I felt that the doctor was growing momentarily more sure of his victory.
"I asked that you might be sent for," I said, beginning my reply steadily, "in order that you might understand what is being done, and that you might guard yourself against it. If you think me so poor a thing that I may not help you, then for God's sake set me aside out of the matter; get someone else more worthy to assist you. But wake up—open your eyes—face this Death that is waiting for you at every turn!"
She might have been a figure of stone, so little movement did she make. And now I saw that both Harvey Scoffold and the doctor were watching her, and not me.
"I have pleaded with you before; I have told you what I know is being done against you and against your life," I went on, speaking more eagerly with every word. "That man has tried to kill you three several times. He tried to make you walk out of that door at dead of night; he tried to poison you—of those things I have already told you. I was able to save you on those two occasions, but after that he sent me away from you, and I had to leave you to the mercy of these men. Only by the merest chance did I find out that you had come down here, and were going on this apparently innocent expedition this morning. Will you not believe me when I tell you that I heard the whole thing plotted between them last night?"
She gave me no answer, although I waited for one. After a pause I went on—
"There was to be an accident this morning; gun accidents have happened frequently. Mr. Scoffold there received his instructions——"
"I protest against this madman!" broke in Harvey Scoffold. "I assure you——"
"Hold your tongue!" snapped the doctor unexpectedly. "Let him say what he has to say."
"So I got a gun from the house," I went on; "for I meant to kill Dr. Just, if by chance I was quick enough to prevent him carrying out his scheme. I lay in the woods over there, and I waited; then I saw Harvey Scoffold walk in front with you, and I saw the doctor step back. As God is my witness I saw the man raise his gun and point it direct at you; then I raised my own and fired."
Very slowly she turned her head, and stole a look at the doctor's face. I saw him repeat his former gesture, as though it were not worth while for him to deny the matter; the thing was so absurd. I saw Debora also glance at Harvey Scoffold, who smiled gaily and shook his head; then she looked back towards me. I did not understand her; I could not read into that mind that was behind her unfathomable eyes. If, while I waited for her judgment, I looked at her with any look of pleading, it was only that she might, for her own sake, judge me fairly, and judge me to be honest.
"I won't trouble to remember the absurd name you bear, a name which is not your own," she began very quietly. "I will only remember that you are nobody, and that you forced your way into Dr. Just's house while you were a criminal flying from the law. Do you think it likely that I should take your word in such a matter as this?"
I saw Bardolph Just exchange a quick look with Harvey Scoffold, a look compounded of gratification as well as amazement. Scoffold, for his part, was openly grinning.
"Your zeal for me and for my welfare is quite misplaced, and quite unnecessary," went on Debora. "I'm sorry you should have thought it necessary to try and kill my guardian; it is a merciful thing that you have only injured him. That is all I have to say to you."
"Debora," I said, looking at her earnestly, "I entreat you to believe that what I have said is true. I know these men; I know what their purpose is; I know what must inevitably happen if you will not realise your own danger."
"Come—we've had enough of this!" broke in Bardolph Just. "It's quite time we told this fellow that he'd best get away from the place, and be seen here no more. He's had his answer, and I hope he's pleased with it."
"Debora," I went on, ignoring the man altogether, "I will take you away from this place, and will put you with friends who will be good to you. Debora, won't you listen to me?"
"I have given you my answer, and it is a final one," she said. "Had the warning come from anyone else I might have been troubled by it—mystified by it; coming from a man with your record it is worthless. When I listened to you first I did not understand who you were; now I know. That is the end of it."
"It is not the end of it!" I cried fiercely, as she turned away from me. "I will save you in spite of yourself; I will make you understand your danger, even if you do not see it now. I shall ask no thanks and seek no reward. I shall have done it for another reason." I turned to the doctor, and pointed a finger at him. "As for you, sir, such a retribution is preparing for you as shall not be long delayed. You think you have seen the last of me—you have not done that by any means. Don't forget that I am a desperate man, with nothing to lose in this world save my liberty; and I shall not count that, if it becomes necessary for me to declare who I am, and to come forward into the light of day to protect this girl. That's my last word on the matter."
"I'm glad to hear it!" retorted the doctor. "Open the door, Harvey, please."
Mr. Harvey Scoffold obeyed with alacrity, and, thus dismissed, I went out of the house, and made my way towards the village. I was sent upon my way more quickly, perhaps, from hearing a peal of laughter from the room I had left. I went away with rage and bitterness in my heart.
I went back to my lodging at the little inn, more perplexed than ever as to what I should do. I knew that this was a new danger which threatened the girl, because she would prove an easier victim in any new scheme which might be maturing, by reason of her belief in the man who meant to kill her; her trust in him would make her utterly unsuspicious. The thought of that drove me almost frantic, and I raged up and down my little room in the inn, tormented by doubts and fears, and seeing my own helplessness loom more largely before me with every moment. Late in the afternoon I went out into the village of Comerford, undecided whether to go back to London, or whether to remain in that place. I wandered aimlessly about the streets, and finally seated myself on a gate a little way out, and propped my chin in my hands and gave myself up to the gloomiest thoughts.
I became aware, in a curious, detached fashion, of a small country boy, with a very freckled face and very light hair, who had walked past me twice, and had observed me narrowly; now I came to think of it, I had seen him loitering along on the other side of the street some half-hour previously. I looked at him with a frown now, and asked him what he wanted.
To my surprise he asked me if I was Mr. John New. I sat up and looked at him, and said that I was. From one of his pockets the boy drew out a twisted piece of paper, flattened it with one grubby hand upon the other, and spelled out the name. Then to my amazement, he handed the note to me.
"Where did you get this from?" I demanded.
He told me that a lady had given it to him, and had given him also a shilling to find me. She had told him what I was like, and that I was a stranger in the village; my aimlessly wandering about the streets had done the rest, and had shown me to him. I added another shilling to the boy's new wealth on the spot, and he went away happy. Then I untwisted the note, and read what was written on it.
"I want to see you, and I must see you to-day. There is a place at the other side of the wood where you lay this morning—an old chalk-pit, half filled with water. At one side of that is a little ruined hut. I shall be there this evening at a little after six. I beg, that you will not fail me."DEBORA."
"I want to see you, and I must see you to-day. There is a place at the other side of the wood where you lay this morning—an old chalk-pit, half filled with water. At one side of that is a little ruined hut. I shall be there this evening at a little after six. I beg, that you will not fail me.
"DEBORA."
So much had I been tricked, and so little faith had I in man or woman then, that for a moment I believed that this was another trap set, into which my feet should stumble. But the next moment, I told myself that surely this village boy would not have lied to me over the matter. A woman had sent the note, and it could be but one woman. I thrust the precious paper into my pocket, and set off then and there, with my heart singing within me, to the place appointed.
I came to it well before the time, and found it to be just as the note described. I had kept well away from the wood, and I came easily to the old disused chalk-pit, which had in it a small pond of stagnant water, formed by the rains of many seasons. Half-way up one side of it was the little hut to which Debora had referred. I made my way to it at once. Sitting down on an old bench, I looked through the open door, and so could command the way by which she would come.
The time drew on, and still I saw nothing of her. I was beginning to think that some one had discovered that she had communicated with me, or else that, after all, this might be a trap set for me. I blamed myself that I was here in this lonely place without a weapon. And then suddenly, far off, I saw what it was that had delayed her.
The evening was very still and very fine; I could see a long way. Presently, in the distance, I made out a figure walking backwards and forwards on the edge of the wood; after quite a long time I made it out to be the doctor. I knew in a moment that the man stood as a barrier between the girl in the house and me in the hut, and that while he kept unconscious guard there it was impossible for us to meet. Yet I was as helpless as she must be, and I could only wait until it pleased the man to go back to the house.
He must have walked there backwards and forwards for more than half an hour before I suddenly saw him in the clear light stop, and snap the fingers of his uninjured hand together, with the action of a man coming to a sudden quick resolution; then he turned, and went off with long strides in the direction of the house. I wondered what he was going to do.
I endured another period of waiting that seemed interminable; and then I saw her coming quickly through the wood and down towards the chalk-pit. She skirted the edge of it, and came on quickly towards where I stood in the doorway of the hut waiting for her. After her declaration in the house, in the presence of the two men, I could not know in what mood she came, and I was puzzled how I should greet her. About that, however, I need not have thought at all, for the miracle of it was that she came straight towards me, with her eyes shining, and her hands stretched out towards me, so that in the most wonderful way, and yet in a way most natural, I took her suddenly in my arms. And she broke at once into a torrent of prayers and excuses.
"Oh, my dear! my dear! I was so afraid you would not meet me. I have not deserved that you should; it might have happened that you would not understand, and would believe that all the hateful things I said were meant by me. You didn't believe that, did you?"
"Well—yes, I did," I stammered. "What else could I believe?"
"Don't you understand that I should have had no chance at all with those men, unless I had thrown them off their guard? I hated myself afterwards, when they laughed and joked about you; I could have killed them. Then I made up my mind that I must send and find you."
"It was wonderful that the boy should know me so easily," I answered. "How did you describe me?"
She hung her head, and I saw the colour mount from neck to brow. "I told the boy to look for a man with the mark of a blow across his face," she whispered; and then, before I could prevent her, even had I wished, she had put her arms about my neck and had drawn my head down, and was kissing me passionately on the mark itself. "That's to heal it—and that—and that—and that!" she whispered.
We were both more composed presently, and were seated side by side on the old bench inside the hut. We had no fear of being surprised by anyone; the side of the chalk-pit went up sheer behind the hut, and from the edge of it all was open country. Before us, as I have said, stretched the chalk-pit itself, and the wood, and beyond that the grounds of the house. So we sat contentedly, and looked into each other's eyes, and said what we wanted to say.
"It came upon me suddenly," began Debora, "this morning when I turned and saw Dr. Just on his knees, holding his wrist. I seemed to know instinctively that you had shot him. I knew, dear, that you would not run away, and I had time before they sent for me to make up my mind what to do. I had not quite realised what he had meant to do. I did not think he would be daring enough to shoot me in that fashion. But I am glad, for your sake, that you did not kill him."
"So am I—now," I replied. "And you do believe, my dearest girl, that he has really tried on these three occasions to take your life?"
"I know it," she answered, with a little shiver. "But it is for the last time. See"—she placed her hands in mine, and looked fearlessly into my eyes—"for the future you shall look after me—you shall take care of me. Is that too bold a thing to say?"
I drew her close to me. "No, Debora mine," I whispered, "because I love you. I am what you called me—a thing without a name, but in my heart I am honest; in my heart I love the name that has been given me, because by that you first knew me."
I told her of my plans: that we should go away then and there, and that for that night I would give her the room I had taken at the inn, and would find a lodging in another place. Then, quite early, before anyone we need fear was awake, we would start off into the world, on some impossible mission of making a fortune, and living happily for ever afterwards.
"But you forget, John dear—I have a fortune already," she reminded me. "That belongs to me—that we must get."
I was troubled at the thought of that, troubled lest she might believe, even for one fleeting moment, that I set that fortune as of greater value than herself. I was about to speak of it when she suddenly turned to me, and began to speak with the deepest earnestness of quite another matter.
"There is something I must say to you—now, before we leave this place," she said. "I want first of all to tell you that I never loved Gregory Pennington; he was only my dear friend—my brother."
"I am glad," I answered simply.
"And I want to tell you now that I am absolutely certain in my own mind that the boy never killed himself."
I was so startled that for a moment I could not answer her. She glanced out of the door of the hut, as though fearing that even in that place she might be overheard, and then went on speaking at a great rate:
"It was the last thing he would have done; there was no reason for it at all. He was happy, because he had always the mistaken hope that he might persuade me to love him. On the very night of his death—the night when you came there—he, too, had tried to persuade me to leave the house, and go away with him; like yourself, he believed that I was not safe with Dr. Just. Do you believe for a moment that, having said that to me, he would walk into the house and put a rope about his neck? No, I won't believe it!"
"But, my darling, how else could he have died?" I asked.
She answered me quite solemnly, and with the same deep earnestness I had heard in her tones before. "He was killed—murdered—by Dr. Just!"
"But why?" I asked stupidly.
"For the same reason that would prompt the man to seek your death, if he could," she said. "Bardolph Just knew that Gregory Pennington wanted to get me to go away; Gregory probably told him so that night. If I went away and married anyone, my fortune went with me, and it is my horrible fortune that has come near to losing me my life. I know, as surely as if I had seen it done, that the doctor killed Gregory Pennington. That he hanged him afterwards, to give colour to the idea of suicide, I quite believe; that would account for his anxiety to let you change places with the dead man."
"Another thought occurs to me," I said, after a pause. "Poor Gregory Pennington's servant—the man Capper—must have seen what happened; the shock of it has left his mind a blank."
"I wonder," said Debora slowly, "I wonder if Capper will ever speak!"
That thought had been in my mind too, but I had been too startled at what I had heard to speak of it. We left the matter where it was, and as the twilight was now coming on, came out of the hut and took our way by a circuitous route back towards the village. I took the girl to the inn, and left her in charge of the kindly landlady, giving the woman instructions that under no circumstances was she to let anyone know that the girl was there. I think the landlady scented a runaway match, for she smiled and nodded, and put a finger on her lips in token of silence.
Nothing happened, however, during that night; and in the morning quite early Debora stepped out of the little inn into the village street, and we went off happily together to the railway station. There, by an early market train, we got to London, coming to it just as all the people were pouring into the busy city for the day. I took Debora to a little, old-fashioned hotel that I had heard of near the Charterhouse, and left her there while I set off on a mission of my own. I had determined that, before ever I saw my uncle, or availed myself of his promise to look after the girl, I would go again to that solitary house in which Gregory Pennington had died, and would find the man Capper. For now I had the threads of the thing strongly in my fingers; I knew from what point to start, and I could put certain questions to Capper that he might be able to answer.
I came to the house soon after mid-day, and opened the gate in the fence and went in. Lest I should be refused admission for any reason, I determined that I would, if possible, slip into the house by the back way; and I made my way cautiously round there. So it happened that I came in sight of that open window, on the window-seat of which I had left Mr. George Rabbit reclining while he kept guard over the little grey-headed man called Capper. And I was in time to see a curious scene enacted before my eyes at that very window, just as though it had been a scene in some play. I was hidden among the trees, so that no one saw me, but I could both see and hear distinctly.
Standing with his back to the window, and with his arms folded, was George Rabbit, and his attitude was evidently one of defiance. Leaning against the side of the window-frame, watching him, and glancing also at someone else within the room, stood Capper, with nervous fingers plucking at his lips, and with that vacant smile upon his face. The man Rabbit was speaking.
"I know too much to be turned aht, or to be told to do this or to do that. I'm much too fly for that, guv'nor, an' so I tell yer. Money's my game, 'an money I mean to 'ave."
The voice that replied, to my very great surprise, was the voice of Bardolph Just. "We'll see about that, you dog!" he shouted. And with that I ran round at once through the back door, into the house, and made for the room.
I darted in, in time to see the doctor with a heavy stick raised in his right hand; he was in the very act of bringing it down with all his force, in a very passion of rage, on the head of George Rabbit. The man put up his arm in time to save his head, and drew back with a cry of pain, and stopped dead on seeing me. The doctor swung round, too, and lowered the stick.
But the strangest thing of all was the sight of the man Capper. As that blow had fallen, his eyes had been fixed upon the doctor; and I had seen a great change come suddenly over his face. It was as if the man had been turned into another being, so strangely had the face lighted up. He gave what was nothing more nor less than a scream, and leapt straight for the doctor. As the doctor swung about at the sound, the man Capper caught him by the throat, and held on, and swayed about with him, and seemed to be striving to choke him.
"Murder!" he shrieked, and again yet louder, "Murder!"