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The Weathercock: Being the Adventures of a Boy with a Bias, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 24. The Law Asks Questions |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. THE LAW ASKS QUESTIONS Seeing the rush made by Gilmore and Macey, Bruff hesitated for a few moments, and then turned and shouted to Joseph, the next man. "They've fun suthin," and ran after them. Joseph turned and shouted to Wrench, the carpenter. "They've got him," and followed Bruff. Wrench shouted to Chakes and ran after Joseph, and in this House-that-Jack-built fashion the news ran along the line to the doctor and rector, and right to the end, with the result that all came hurrying along in single-file, minute by minute increasing the size of the group about where Vane lay quite insensible now. "Poor old chap," cried Macey, dropping on his knees by his friend's side, Gilmore kneeling on the other, and both feeling his hands and face, which were dank and cold, while Distin stood looking down grimly but without offering to stir. "Don't say he's dead, sir," panted Bruff. "No, no, he's not dead," cried Macey. "Fetch some water; no, run for the doctor." "He's coming, sir," cried Joseph, shading his eyes to look along the line. "He won't be long. Hi--hi--yi! Found, found, found!" roared the man, and his cry was taken up now and once more the news flew along the line, making all redouble their exertions, even the rector, who had not done such a thing for many years, dropping into the old football pace of his youth, with his fists up and trotting along after the doctor. But the progress was very slow. It was a case of the more haste the worst speed, for a bee-line through ancient gorse bushes and brambles is not perfection as a course for middle-aged and elderly men not accustomed to go beyond a walk. Every one in his excitement caught the infection, and began to run, but the mishaps were many. Chakes, whose usual pace was one mile seven furlongs per hour, more or less, tripped and went down; and as nobody stopped to help him, three men passed him before he had struggled up and began to look about for his hat. The next to go down was Rounds, the miller, who, after rushing several tangles like an excited rhinoceros, came to grief over an extra tough bramble strand, and went down with a roar. "Are you hurt, Mr Rounds?" panted the doctor. "Hurt!" cried the churchwarden, "I should think I am, sir. Five hundred million o' thorns in me. But don't you wait. You go on, and see to that boy," he continued, as he drew himself into a sitting position. "Dessay he wants you more than I do." "Then I will go on, Mr Rounds; forgive me for leaving you." "All right, sir, and you too, parson; goo on, niver mind me." The rector seemed disposed to stay, for he was breathless, but he trotted on, and was close to the doctor, as he reached the group on the other side of the stream. "Not dead?" panted the doctor. "Oh no, sir," cried Macey, "but he's very bad; seems to have tumbled about among the trees a great deal. Look at his face." The doctor knelt down after making the men stand back. "Must have fallen heavily," he said, as he began his examination. "Head cut, great swelling, bruise across his face, and eye nearly closed. This is no fall, Mr Syme. Good heavens! look at his hand and wrist. The poor fellow has been horribly beaten with sticks, I should say." "But tell me," panted the rector; "he is not--" "No, no, not dead; insensible, but breathing." "Found him, gentlemen?" said a voice; and as the rector looked up, it was to see the two police constables on their way to join them. "Yes, yes," cried the rector; "but, tell me, was there any firing in the night--any poachers about?" "No, sir; haven't seen or heard of any lately; we keep too sharp a look-out. Why, the young gent has got it severely. Some one's been knocking of him about." "Don't stop to talk," cried the doctor. "I must have him home directly." "Here, how is he?" cried a bluff voice; and Rounds now came up, dabbing his scratched and bleeding face with his handkerchief. "Bad, bad, Rounds," said the doctor. "Bad? Ay, he is. But, halloo, who is been doing this?" He looked around at his fellow-townsmen, and then at Vane's fellow-pupils so fiercely that Gilmore said quickly: "Not I, Mr Rounds." "Silence!" cried the doctor angrily. "It is of vital importance that my nephew should be carried home at once." "Oh, we'll manage that, sir," said one of the constables as he slipped off his greatcoat and spread it on the ground. "Now, if we lift him and lay him upon that, and half-a-dozen take hold of the sides and try to keep step, we can get him along." "Yes, that's right," cried the doctor, superintending the lifting, which drew a faint groan from Vane. "Poor lad!" he said; "but I'm glad to hear that. Now then, better keep along this side of the stream till we can cut across to the lane. Here, I want a good runner." "I'll go," said Gilmore quickly. "Yes, you," said the doctor, "go and tell my wife to have Vane's bed ready. Say we have found him hurt, but not very badly." "Why not take him to the rectory?" said Mr Syme. "It is nearer." "Thank you, but I'll have him at home," said the doctor. "One moment, gentlemen," said the first constable, book in hand. "I want to know exactly where he was found." "Here, man, here," cried the doctor. "Now then, lift him carefully, and keep step. If I say stop, lower him directly." "Yes, sir; go on," said the constable. "We must have a look round before we come away. P'r'aps you'd stop along with us, Mr Churchwarden, sir, and maybe one of you young gents would stay," he continued, addressing Distin. "Me--me stay!" said the lad starting, and flushing to his brow. "Yes, sir. Young gents' eyes are sharp and see things sometimes." "Yes, Distin, my dear boy," said the rector, "stop with them. You are going to search?" "Yes, sir. That young gent couldn't have got into that state all by himself, and we want to find out who did it." The man glanced sharply at Distin again as he spoke, and the young Creole avoided his eye with the result that the constable made a note in his book with a pencil which seemed to require wetting before it would mark. "I think," said the rector, "it is my duty to stay here, as this matter is assuming a serious aspect." "Thank ye, sir; I should be glad if you would," said the constable. "It do begin to look serious." "Joseph, run on after Dr Lee, and tell him why I am staying. Say that he is to use the carriage at once if he wishes to send for help or nurse. I shall not be very long." Joseph ran off at a sharp trot after the departing group, and the constable went slowly forward after carefully examining the ground where Vane had been found. "Keep back, everybody, please. Plenty of footprints here," he said, "but all over, I'm afraid. Hah! Look here, sir," he continued, pointing down at the loose sand and pebbles; "he crawled along here on his hands and knees." Distin looked sallow and troubled now, and kept on darting furtive looks at those about, several of the men having stopped back to see what the constable might find. "Don't see no steps but his," said the constable, who seemed to be keenly observant for so rustic-looking a man. "Hah, that's where he come down, regularly slipped, you see." He pointed to the shelving bank of chalk, on the top of which the beeches began, and over which their long, lithe branches drooped. "Steady, please. I'll go on here by myself with you two gents. You see as no one else follows till I give leave." The second constable nodded, and the bank was climbed, the rector telling Distin to hold out a hand to help him--a hand that was very wet and cold, feeling something like the tail of a codfish. Here the constable had no difficulty in finding Vane's track over the dead leaves and beech-mast for some distance, and then he uttered an ejaculation as he pounced upon a broken stick, one of the pieces being stained with blood. "It's getting warm," he said. "Oh, yes, don't come forward, gentlemen. Here we are: ground's all trampled and kicked up, and what's this here? Little trowel and a basket and--" He turned over the contents of the basket with a puzzled expression. "Aren't taters," he said, holding the basket to the rector. "No, my man, they are truffles." "Oh, yes, sir, I can see they're trifles." "Truffles, my man, troofles," said the rector. "The poor fellow must have been digging them up." "But no one wouldn't interfere with him for digging up that stuff, sir. I mean keepers or the like. And there's been two of 'em here, simminly. Oh, yes, look at the footmarks, only they don't tell no tales. I like marks in soft mud, where you can tell the size, and what nails was in the boots. Stuff like this shows nothing. Halloo, again." "Found something else?" cried the rector excitedly. "Bits o' broken glass, sir,--glass bottle. There's a lot of bits scattered about." The constable searched about the grass of the beech grove where the struggle had taken place, but not being gifted with the extraordinary eyes and skill of an American Indian, he failed to find the track of Vane's assailants going and coming, and he was about to give up when the rector pointed to a couple of places amongst the dead leaves which looked as if two hands had torn up some of the dead leaves. "Ay, that's someat," said the constable quickly. "I see, sir, you're quite right. Some one went down here and--Phee-ew!" he whistled as he picked up a leaf. "See that, sir?" The rector looked, shuddered and turned away, but Distin pressed forward with a curious, half-fascinated aspect, and stared down at the leaf the constable held out, pointing the while to several more like it which lay upon the ground. "Blood?" said Distin in a hoarse voice. "Yes, sir, that's it. Either the young gent or some one else had what made that. Don't look nice, do it?" Distin shuddered, and the constable made another note in his book, moistening his pencil over and over again and glancing thoughtfully at Distin as he wrote in a character that might have been called cryptographic, for it would have defied any one but the writer to have made it out. "Well, constable," said the rector at last, "what have you discovered?" "That the young gent was out here, sir, digging up them tater things as he was in the habit of grubbing up--weeds and things. I've seen him before." "Yes, yes," said the rector. "Well?" "And then some one come and went at him." "Some one," said the rector, "I thought you said two." "So I did, sir, and I thought so at first, but I don't kind o' find marks of more than one, and he broke this stick about Mr Vane, and the wonder to me is as he hasn't killed him. Perhaps he has." "But what motive? It could not have been the keepers." "Not they, sir. They liked him." "Could it be poachers?" "Can't say, sir. Hardly. What would they want to 'tack a young gent like that for?" "Have there been any tramps about who might do it for the sake of robbery?" "Ha'n't been a tramp about here for I don't know how long, sir. We're quite out of them trash. Looks to me more like a bit o' spite." "Spite?" "Yes, sir. Young gent got any enemies as you know on?" The rector laughed and Distin joined in, making the constable scratch his head. "Oh, no, my man, we have no enemies in my parish. You have not got the right clue this time. Try again." "I'm going to, sir, but that's all for to-day," said the man, buttoning up his book in his pocket. "I think we'll go back to the town now." "By all means," said the rector. "Very painful and very strange. Come, Distin." As he spoke he walked from under the twilight of the great beech-wood out into the sunshine, where about a dozen of the searchers were waiting impatiently in charge of the second constable for a report of what had been done. As the rector went on, Distin looked keenly round and then bent down over the leaves which bore the ugly stains, and without noticing that the constable had stolen so closely to him, that when he raised his head he found himself gazing full in the man's searching eyes. "Very horrid, sir, aren't it," he said. "Yes, yes, horrible," cried Distin, hastily, and he turned sharply round to follow the rector. At that moment the constable touched him on the shoulder with the broken stick, and Distin started round and in spite of himself shivered at the sight of the pieces. "Yes," he said hoarsely, as his face now was ghastly. "You want to speak to me?" "Yes, sir, just a word or two. Would you mind telling me where you was yesterday afternoon--say from four to six o'clock?" "I--I don't remember," said Distin. "Why do you ask?" "The law has a right to ask questions, sir, and doesn't always care about answering of them," said the man with a twinkle of the eye. "You say you don't know where you was?" "No. I am not sure. At the rectory, I think." "You aren't sure, sir, but at the rectory, you think. Got rather a bad memory, haven't you, sir?" "No, excellent," cried Distin desperately. "You says as you was at the rectory yesterday afternoon when this here was done?" "How do you know it was done in the afternoon," said Distin, quickly. "Reason one, 'cause the young gent went in the afternoon to Lenby. Reason two, 'cause he was digging them trifles o' taters, and young gents don't go digging them in the dark. That do, sir?" "Yes. I feel sure now that I was at the rectory," said Distin, firmly. "Then I must ha' made a mistake, sir--eyes nothing like so good as they was." "What do you mean," cried Distin, changing colour once more. "Oh, nothing, sir, nothing, only I made sure as I see you when I was out in my garden picking apples in the big old tree which is half mine, half my mate's. But of course it was my mistake. Thought you was going down the deep lane." "Oh, no, I remember now," said Distin, carelessly; "I go out so much to think and study, that I often quite forget. Yes, I did go down the lane--of course, and I noticed how many blackberries there were on the banks." "Ay, there are a lot, sir--a great lot to-year. The bairns gets quite basketsful of 'em." "Are you coming, Distin?" cried the rector. "Yes, sir, directly," cried Distin; and then haughtily, "Do you want to ask me any more questions, constable?" "No, sir, thankye; that will do." "Then, good-morning." Distin walked away with his head up, and a nonchalant expression on his countenance, leaving the constable looking after him. "Want to ask me any more questions, constable," he said, mimicking Distin's manner. "Then good-morning." He stood frowning for a few minutes, and nodded his head decisively. "Well," he said, "you're a gentleman, I suppose, and quite a scholard, or you wouldn't be at parson's, but if you aren't about as artful as they make 'em, I'm as thick-headed as a beetle. Poor lad! Only a sort o' foreigner, I suppose. What a blessing it is to be born a solid Englishman. Not as I've got a word again your Irishman and Scotchman, or your Welsh, if it comes to that, but what can you expect of a lad born out in a hot climate that aren't good for nobody but blacks?" He took a piece of string out of his pocket, and very carefully tied the trowel and pieces of broken stick together as firmly as if they were to be despatched on a long journey. Then he opened the basket, peeped in, and frowned at the truffles, closed it up and went out. "Any of you as likes can go in now," he said, and shaking his head solemnly as questions began to pour upon him from all sides respecting the stick and basket, he strode off with his colleague in the direction of the town, gaining soon upon the rector, who was too tired and faint to walk fast, for it was not his habit to pass the night out of bed, and take a walk of some hours' duration at early dawn. _ |
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