Chapter 24
said she; 'and it's to know how my lord did meet it, and whether the poacher mightn't have dealt that blow on his temple and robbed him after it.' Gum--"
"There's no suspicion of foul play, is there?" interrupted the clerk, in strangely subdued tones.
"Not that I know of, except in Lydia's temper," answered Mrs. Gum. "But I don't like to hear he was up there at all."
"Lydia Jones is a foul-tongued woman, capable of swearing away any man's life. Is Pike in custody?"
"Not yet. They've let him off for the present. Oh, Gum, often and often do I wish my days were ended!"
"Often and often do I wish I'd a quiet house to come to, and not be bothered with dreams," was the scornful retort. "Suppose you toast the m.u.f.fins."
She gave a sigh or two, put her cap straight, smoothed her ragged hair, and meekly rose to obey. The clerk was carefully folding up the outer coat, for it was one he wore only on high-days, when he felt something in the pocket--a small parcel.
"I'd almost forgotten this," he exclaimed, taking it out. "Thanks to you, Nance! What with your dreams and other worryings I can't think of my proper business."
"What is it?" she asked.
"A deed Dr. Ashton's lawyer got me to bring and save his clerk a journey--if you must know. I'll take it over at once, while the tea's brewing."
As Jabez Gum pa.s.sed through his own gate he looked towards Mr. Pike's dwelling; it was only natural he should do so after the recent conversation; and he saw that worthy gentleman come stealing across the waste ground, with his usual cautious step. Although not given to exchanging courtesies with his neighbour, the clerk walked briskly towards him now, and waited at the hurdles which divided the waste ground from the road.
"I hear you were prowling about the mill when Lord Hartledon met with his accident," began the clerk, in low, condemning tones.
"And what if I was," asked Pike, leaning his arms on the hurdles and facing the clerk. "Near the mill I wasn't; about the woods and river I was; and I saw him pa.s.s down in the sculling boat with his disabled arm.
What of it, I ask?"
Pike's tone, though short, was civil enough. The forced appearance before the coroner and public had disturbed his equanimity in no slight degree, and taken for the present all insolence out of him.
"Should any doubt get afloat that his lords.h.i.+p's death might not have been accidental, your presence at the spot would tell against you."
"No, it wouldn't. I left the spot before the accident could have happened; and I came back to Calne with a witness. As to the death having been something worse than accident, not a soul in the place has dreamt of such a thing except me."
"Except you! What do you mean?"
Pike leaned more over the hurdles, so as to bring his disreputable face closer to Mr. Gum, who slightly recoiled as he caught the low whisper.
"I don't think the death was accidental. I believe his lords.h.i.+p was just put out of the way quietly."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the shocked clerk. "By whom? By you?" he added, in his bewilderment.
"No," returned the man. "If I'd done it, I shouldn't talk about it."
"What do you mean?" cried Mr. Gum.
"I mean that I have my suspicions; and good suspicions they are. Many a man has been hung on less. I am not going to tell them; perhaps not ever.
I shall wait and keep my eyes open, and bring them, if I can, to certainties. Time enough to talk then, or keep silent, as circ.u.mstances may dictate."
"And you tell me you were not near the place at the time of the accident?"
"_I_ wasn't," replied Mr. Pike, with emphasis.
"Who was?"
"That's my secret. And as I've a little matter
With the last words Mr. Pike crossed the hurdles and went off in the direction of Hartledon. It was a light night, and the clerk stood and stared after him. To say that Jabez Gum in his astonishment was uncertain whether he stood on his head or his heels, would be saying little; and how much of these a.s.sertions he might believe, and what mischief Mr. Pike might be going after to-night, he knew not. Drawing a long sigh, which did not sound very much like a sigh of relief, he at length turned off to Dr. Ashton's, and the man disappeared.
We must follow Pike. He went stealthily up the road past Hartledon, keeping in the shade of the hedge, and shrinking into it when he saw any one coming. Striking off when he neared the mill, he approached it cautiously, and halted amidst some trees, whence he had a view of the mill-door.
He was waiting for the boy, David Ripper. Fully convinced by the lad's manner at the inquest that he had not told all he knew, but was keeping something back in fear, Mr. Pike, for reasons of his own, resolved to come at it if he could. He knew that the boy would be at work later than usual that night, having been hindered in the afternoon.
Imagine yourself standing with your back to the river, reader, and take a view of the premises as they face you. The cottage is a square building, and has four good rooms on the ground floor. The miller's thrifty wife generally locked all these rooms up if she went out, and carried the keys away in her pocket. The parlour window was an ordinary sash-window, with outside shutters; the kitchen window a small cas.e.m.e.nt, protected by a fixed net-work of strong wire. No one could get in or out, even when the cas.e.m.e.nt was open, without tearing this wire away, which would not be a difficult matter to accomplish. On the left of the cottage, but to your right as you face it, stands the mill, to which you ascend by steps. It communicates inside with the upper floor of the cottage, which is used as a store-room for corn; and from this store-room a flight of stairs descends to the kitchen below. Another flight of stairs from this store-room communicated with the open pa.s.sage leading from the back-door to the stable. This is all that need be said: and you may think it superfluous to have described it at all: but it is not so.
The boy Ripper at length came forth. With a shuddering avoidance of the water he came tearing along as one running from a ghost, and was darting past the trees, when he found himself detained by an arm of great strength. Mr. Pike clapped his other hand upon the boy's mouth, stifling a howl of terror.
"Do you see this, Rip?" cried he.
Rip did see it. It was a pistol held rather inconveniently close to the boy's breast. Rip dearly loved his life; but it nearly went out of him then with fear.
"Now," said Pike, "I've come up to know about this business of Lord Hartledon's, and I will know it, or leave you as dead as he is. And I'll have you took up for murder, into the bargain," he rather illogically continued, "as an accessory to the fact."
David Ripper was in a state of horror; all idea of concealment gone out of him. "I couldn't help it," he gasped. "I couldn't get out to him; I was locked up in the mill. Don't shoot me."
"I'll spare you on one condition," decided Pike. "Disclose the whole of this from first to last, and then we may part friends. But try to palm off one lie upon me, and I'll riddle you through. To begin with: what brought you locked up in the mill?"
It was a wicked tale of a wicked young jail-bird, as Mr. Pike (probably the worse jail-bird by far of the two) phrased it. Master Ripper had purposely caused himself to be locked in the mill, his object being to supply himself with as much corn as he could carry about him for the benefit of his rabbits and pigeons and other live stock at home. He had done it twice before, he avowed, in dread of the pistol, and had got away safe through the square hole in the pa.s.sage at the foot of the back staircase, whence he had dropped to the ground. To his consternation on this occasion, however, he had found the door at the foot of the stairs bolted, as it never had been before, and he could not get to the pa.s.sage.
So he was a prisoner all the afternoon, and had exercised his legs between the store-room and kitchen, both of which were open to him.
If ever a man showed virtuous indignation at a sinner's confession, Mr.
Pike showed it now. "That's how you were about in the stubble-field setting your traps, you young villain! I saw the coroner look at you. And now about Lord Hartledon. What did you see?"
Master Ripper rubbed the perspiration from his face as he went on with his tale. Pike listened with all the ears he possessed and said not a word, beyond sundry rough exclamations, until the tale was done.
"You awful young dog! You saw all that from the kitchen-window, and never tried to get out of it!"
"I _couldn't_ get out of it," pleaded the boy. "It's got a wire-net before it, and I couldn't break that."
"You are strong enough to break it ten times over," retorted Pike.
"But then master would ha' known I'd been in the mill!" cried the boy, a gleam of cunning in his eyes.
"Ugh," grunted Pike. "And you saw exactly what you've told me?"
"I saw it and heard the cries."
"Did he see you?"
"No; I was afeard to show myself. When master come home, the first thing he did was t' unlock that there staircase door, and I got out without his seeing me--"