BOYD CONNOWAY'S EVIDENCE
The loop of the riding-whip on Mr. Richard's wrist was broken, and
behind his ear there was a lump the size of a small hen's egg. There
were no signs of a struggle. The two men had been sitting face to face,
eye to eye, when by a movement which must have been swift as lightning,
one had disarmed and smitten the other.
Tom, Eben and Rob armed themselves and went out. But the branches of
Marnhoul wood stood up against the sky, black, serried and silent. The
fields beneath spread empty and grey. The sough of the wind and the
fleeing cloud of night was all they saw or heard. They were soon within
the house again, happy to be there and the door barred stoutly upon
them.
Except for little Louis, who was already in bed on the other side of the
house where his chamber was, and so knew nothing of the occurrence till
the morning, there was no sleep for any that night at Heathknowes. At
the first clear break of day Tom and Eben took the cart-horses and rode
over to tell Dr. Gillespie, General Johnstone, and Mr. Shepstone
Oglethorpe, who were all Justices of the Peace, of what had happened.
They came, the General the most imposing, with a great army cloak and a
star showing beneath the collar.
In the little detached sitting-room, which till the coming of the
Maitlands had been used as a cheese-room, Mr. Richard Poole sat, as he
had been found, his head still bowed upon his arms, but on his face,
when they raised it to look, there was an absolute terror, so that even
the General, who had seen many a day of battle, was glad to lay it down
again.
They took such testimony as was to be had, which was but little, and all
tending to one startling conclusion. Suddenly, swiftly, noiselessly,
within hearing of eight or nine people, in a defensible house, with arms
at hand, Mr. Richard Poole, of the firm of Smart, Poole and Smart, had
been done to death.
Yet he had known something, though perhaps not the full extent of his
danger. We recalled his silences, his moodiness as he approached the
farm--the manner in which he had at once put aside all claims, even on a
market Wednesday, that he might ride and speak with a man who, if he
were not a felon, was certainly no honourable acquaintance for such as
Mr. Richard.
The three gentlemen looked at each other and took snuff from the
Doctor's gold box.
"Very serious, sir!" said Mr. Shepstone tentatively. For indeed he had
not many ideas--a fact which the others charitably put down to his being
an Episcopalian. Really he wanted to find out what they thought before
committing himself.
"Tempestuous Theophilus!" cried the General, who in the presence of the
Doctor always swore by unknown saints--to relieve himself, as was
thought--"but 'tis more serious than you think. A fellow like this
alive, at large, in our parish----"
"In _my_ parish----" corrected the Doctor, who was the only man alive
with a legal right to speak of Eden Valley parish as his own.
About noon the Fiscal, responsible law officer of the Crown, arrived
from Kirkcudbright escorted by Tom and Eben. The evidence was all heard
over again, the chamber--ex-cheese room, present parlour--again
inspected, but nothing further appeared likely to be discovered, when a
shadow fell across the threshold.
For some time, indeed, I had sat quaking in my corner, all cold with the
fear of a flitting figure, appearing here and there, seen with the tail
of the eye, and then disappearing like the black cat I see in corners
when my eyes are overstrained with Greek.
Of course I thought at once of the murderer Wringham Pollixfen lurking
catlike among the office-houses in the hope of striking again, perhaps
at Miss Irma--perhaps, also, as I now see, at Sir Louis. But indeed I
never thought of him, at least not at the time. It was not the pretended
Poole, however. It was a presence as quick, as agile, but more perfectly
acquainted with the hidie-holes of the farmyard--in fact, Boyd Connoway.
Long before the others I got my eyes on him, and with the joy of a boy
when a visitor enters the school at the dreariest hour of lessons, I
rushed after him. To my surprise he went round the angle of the barn
like a shot. But I had played at that game before. I took one flying
leap into the little orchard from the window of the parlour which had
been given up to the Maitlands, Louis and Miss Irma. Then I glided among
the trees, choosing those I knew would hide me, and leaped on Master
Boyd from behind as he was craning his neck to peer round the corner in
the direction of the house door.
To my utter amaze he dropped to the ground with a throttled kind of cry
as if some one had smitten him unawares. Here was surely something that
I did not understand.
"Boyd, Boyd," I said in his ear, for I began to grow a little concerned
myself--not terrified, you know, only anxious--"Boyd, it is only
Duncan--Duncan MacAlpine from the school-house."
He turned a white, bewildered face to me, cold sweats pearling it, and
his jaw worked in spasms. "Oh yes," he muttered, "Agnes Anne's brother!"
Now I did not see the use of dragging Agnes Anne continually into
everything. Also I was one of the boys who had gone with Boyd Connoway
oftenest to the fishing in Loch-in-Breck, and he need not have been
afraid of me. But I think that he was a little unsettled by fear.
He did not explain, however, only bidding me shudderingly, "not to come
at him that way again!" So I promised I would not, all the more readily
that I heard him muttering to himself, "I thought he had me that
time--yes, sure!"
Then I knew that he too was afraid of the man who called himself
Wringham Pollixfen Poole and had killed the real Mr. Richard in our old
cheese-room. But I was not a bit afraid, for had I not jumped through
the orchard window, and run and clapped my hand on his shoulder without
a thought of the creature ever crossing my mind.
At any rate I took him in with me--that is, Boyd Connoway. I cannot say
that he wanted very much to go "before them Justices," as he said. But
at least he preferred it to stopping outside. I think he was frightened
of my coming out again and slapping down my hand on his shoulder. Lord
knows he need not have been, for I promised not to. At any rate he came,
which was the main thing.
He did not enjoy the ceremony, but stood before them with his blue coat
with the large rolling collar, which had been made for a bigger man,
buttoned about his waist, and his rig-and-furrow stockings of green,
with home-made shoes called "brogues," the secret of making which he had
brought with him from a place called Killybegs in County Donegal. He was
all tashed with bits of straw and moss clinging to him. His knees too
were wet where he had knelt in the marsh, and there was a kind of white
shaking terror about the man that impressed every one. For Boyd Connoway
had ever been the gayest and most reckless fellow in the parish.
When he was asked if he knew anything about the matter he only
stammered, "Thank you kindly, Doctor, and you, General, and hoping that
I have the honour of seein' you in good health, and that all is well
with you at home and your good ladies and the childer!"
The General, who thought that he spoke in a mood of mockery, cautioned
him that they were met there on a business of life and death, and were
in no mood to be trifled with. Therefore, he, Boyd Connoway, had better
keep his foolery for another time!
But the Doctor, being by his profession accustomed to diagnose the moods
of souls, discerned the laboured pant of one who has been breathed by a
long run from mortal terror--who has, as my father would have said,
"ridden a race with Black Care clinging to the crupper"--and took Boyd
in hand with better results. He agreed to tell all he knew, on being
promised full and certain protection.
And it was something like this that he told his story, as it proved the
only direct evidence in the case, at least for many and many a day.
"Doctor dear," he began, "ye are a married man yourself, and you will
not be misunderstanding me when I ask that anything I may say shall not
be used against me?"
The Fiscal looked up quickly.
"I warn you that it will," he said, "if you have had any hand in this
murder!"
"Murder, is it?"--(Boyd Connoway gave a short grunting laugh)--"Aye,
maybe, but 'tis not the murder that has been, but the murder that will
be, if my wife Bridget gets wind of this! That's why I ask that it
should be kept between ourselves--so that Bridget should not know!"
"Women," said the Fiscal oracularly, "must not be allowed to interfere
with the evenhanded and fearless administration of justice."
"Then I take it," said Boyd, with a twinkle of the old mirth flickering
up into his white and anxious face, "that your honour is not a married
man!"
"No," said the Fiscal, with a smile.
"Then, if I may make so bould, your honour knows nothing about how it is
'twixt Bridget and me. His riverence the Doctor now----"
"Tell us what you know without digressions," said the Fiscal; "no use
will be made of your evidence save in pursuing and bringing to justice
the criminal."
"He's gone," said Boyd Connoway solemnly, "and a good riddance to the
parish!"
"Wha-a-at?" cried the three magistrates simultaneously. And the Fiscal
started to his feet.
"Who has gone?" he cried, and mechanically he drew from his pocket a
silver call to summon his constables from the kitchen, where my uncles
and they were having as riotous a time as they dared while so many great
folk sat pow-wowing in the parlour near at hand.
"Who?" repeated Boyd Connoway, "well, I don't know for certain, but
perhaps this little piece of paper will put you gentlemen on the track."
And he handed over a letter, much stained with sea-water and sand. The
heel of a boot had trodden upon and partly obliterated the writing, the
ink having run, and the whole appearance of the document being somewhat
draggle-tailed.
But there was no doubt about the address. That was clearly written in a
fine flowing English hand, "To His Excellency Lalor Maitland, late
Governor of the Meuse, Constable of Dinant, etc., etc. _These_"--
We all looked at each other, and the Fiscal began to doubt whether the
new evidence as to the suspected murderer would prove so valuable after
all.
"Your Excellency" (the letter ran), "according to the promise made to
you, the lugger _Bloomendahl_, of Walchern, Captain Vandam, has been
cleared of cargo and is exclusively reserved for your Excellency's use.
It will be well, therefore, to dispatch your remaining business in
Scotland, as it is impossible to send back the _Golden Hind_ or a vessel
of similar size without causing remark. At the old place, then, a little
after midnight of Thursday the 18th, a boat will be waiting for you at
the eastern port or the western of Portowarren according to the wind.
The tide is full about one."
"How came you by this?" the Fiscal demanded.
"Shall I tell ye in bits, sorr?" said Boyd, "or will ye have her from
the beginning?"
"From the beginning," said the Fiscal, "only with as few digressions as
possible."
"Sure," said Boyd innocently, "I got none o' them about me. Your honour
can saarch me if ye like!"
"The Fiscal means," said the Doctor, "that you are to tell him the story
as straightly and as briefly as possible."
"Straightly, aye, that I will," said Boyd, "there was never a crooked
word came out of my mouth; but briefly, that's beyond any Irishman's
power--least of all if he comes from County Donegal!"
"Go on!" cried the Fiscal impatiently.
"As all things do in our house, it began with Bridget," said Boyd
Connoway; "ye see, sorr, she took in a man with a wound--powerful sick
he was. The night after the 'dust-up' at the Big House was the time, and
she nursed him and she cured him, the craitur. But, whatever the better
Bridget was, all that I got for it was that I had to go to Portowarren
at dead of night, and that letter flung at me like a bone to a dog, when
I told him that I might be called in question for the matter of my
wife."
"'Aye, put it on your wife,' says he, 'they will let you off. _You_ have
not the pluck of a half-drowned flea!'
"But when I insisted that I should have wherewith to clear me and
Bridget also, he cast the letter down, dibbling it into the pebbles and
sand with his heel just as he was going aboard.
"'There,' he cried, 'now you can put it on me!'"
"Lalor Maitland," said the Fiscal, ruminating, with his brow knit at the
letter in his hand. "Where is that maid? Bring her here!"
I sprang away at once to knock on Irma's door, and bid her come, because
the great folk were wanting her. And it seemed as if she had been
expecting the summons too, for she was sitting ready close by little
Louis. She cast a white shawl about her shoulders, crossed the kitchen
and so into the room where the four gentlemen were sitting about the
table--the Fiscal with his papers at the end, and behind the curtains
drawn close about the press-bed where lay that which it was not good for
young eyes to see.
"Miss Maitland, will you describe to us your cousin, Lalor Maitland, of
whom you have already spoken to me?"
It was the Doctor who took her hand, while on the other side Boyd
Connoway in his flapping clothes of antique pattern with brass buttons
stood waiting his turn. Irma took one look about which I intercepted.
And I think my nod together with the presence of my grandmother gave her
courage, for she answered--
"Lalor Maitland? What has he to do with us? He shall not have us. We
would kill ourselves if we could not run away. You would never think of
giving us up to him----?"
"Never while I am alive!" cried my grandmother, but Dr. Gillespie signed
to her to be silent.
"Will you describe him to us?" suggested the Doctor suavely, "what sort
of a man, dark or fair, stout or spare, how he carries himself, what he
came over to this country for, and where he is likely to have gone, if
we find that he has left it?"
Irma thought a moment and then said, "Perhaps I shall not be quite just
because I hated him so. But he was a man whom most call handsome, though
to me there was always something dreadful about his face. His hair was
dark brown mixed with grey. His features were cut like those of a
statue, and his head small for his height. He was slender, light on his
feet, and walked silently--_ugh_--yes, like a cat."
The Fiscal looked an interrogation at Boyd Connoway.
"That is the man," he answered unhesitatingly, "though most of the time
while he stayed with Bridget and me he kept his bed. Only from the way
he got along the cliff by Portowarren, I judge he was only keeping out
of sight and by no means so weak with his wound as he would have had us
believe."
"And tell us what you saw of him yesterday, Wednesday?"
It was the Fiscal who asked the question, but I think all of us held our
breaths to catch Boyd Connoway's answer. He shook his head with a
disconcerted air like a boy who is set too hard a problem.
"I was from home most of the day, and when I came in, with a hunger
sharp-set with half-a-dozen hours struggling with the wind, Bridget bade
me be off at once to the Dutchman's Howff, which is in Colvend, just
where the Boreland march dyke comes down to the edge of the cliff. I was
to wait there on the edge of the heugh till one came and called me by
name. When I complained of hunger, she put some dry bread into my hand,
crying out that I might seek meat where I had worked my work.
"I saw that the 'ben' room was empty, and the blankets thrown over the
three chair backs. But when I asked where the sick man was, Bridget
stamped her foot and bade me attend to my business and she would take
care of hers. But Jerry, my oldest boy, had a word with me before I left
for the march dyke. He told me that the man 'down-the-house' had gone
that morning as soon as my back was turned, after paying his mother in
gold sovereigns, which she had immediately hidden.
"So I went and waited by the Boreland march dyke--a wild place where
even the heather is laid flat by the wind. The gulls and corbies were
calling down the cliff, and at the foot the sea was roaring through a
narrow gully and spreading out fan-shaped along the sands of the
Dutchman's Howff.
"I waited long, having nought to eat except the sheaf of loaf bread I
gat with such an ill grace from Bridget, and at the end I was beginning
to lose patience, when from the other side of the gully I heard a crying
and a voice bade me follow the dyke upwards and stand by to help.
"So upon the top of the wall I got, and there beneath me was the man I
had last seen lying in Bridget's best bed, cossetted and cared for as
if he were a prince. But for all that he was short and angry, bidding me
dispatch and help him or he would lose his tide."
"And did he wear the same clothes as when last you saw him?" said
Shepstone Oglethorpe, with a shrewd air.
At which Boyd Connoway laughed for the first time since he had come into
the presence of his betters.
"No," he said, "for the last time I saw him he was under the sheets with
one of my sarks on, and Bridget's best linen sheet tied in ribbons about
his head."
"And how, then, was he dressed?" said the Fiscal, with a glance of scorn
at Shepstone.
"Oh," answered Boyd Connoway, "just like you or me. I took no particular
notice. More than that, it was an ill time for seeing patterns, being
nigh on to pit mirk. He bade me lead the way. And this, to the best of
my knowledge and ability, I did. But the track is not canny even in the
broad of the day. Mickle worse is it when the light of the stars and the
glimmer o' the sea three hunder feet below are all that ye hae to guide
ye! But the man that had been hidden in our 'ben' room was aye for going
on faster and faster. He stopped only to look down now and then for a
riding light of some boat. And I made so bold, seeing him that anxious,
as to tell him that if it were a canny cargo for the Co'en lads, waiting
to be run into Portowarren, never a glim would he see."
"'You trust a man that kens,' I said to him, 'never a skarrow will wink,
nor a lantern swing. The Isle o' Man chaps and the Dutchmen out yonder
have their business better at their fingers' ends than that. But I will
tell ye what ye may hear when we get down the hill by the joiner's
shop--and that's the clink o' the saddle irons, and the waff o' their
horses' lugs as they shake their necks--them no liking their heads tied
up in bags.'
"'Get on,' he said, 'I wish your head were tied up in a bag!' And he
tugged at my tail-coat like to rive it off me, your honour. 'Set me on
the shore there at Portowarren before the hour of two, or maybe ye will
get something for your guerdon ye will like but ill.'
"This was but indifferent talk to a man whose bread you have been eating
(it is mostly porridge and saps, but no matter) for weeks and weeks!
"We climbed down by the steep road over the rocks--the same that Will of
the Cloak Moss and Muckle Sandy o' Auchenhay once held for two hours
again the gaugers, till the loaded boats got off clear again into deep
water. And when we had tramped down through the round stones that were
so hard on the feet after the heather, we came to the edge of the sea
water. There it is deep right in. For the tide never leaves
Portowarren--no, not the shot of a pebble thrown by the hand. Bending
low I could see something like the sail of a ship rise black against the
paler edge of the sea.
"Then it was that I asked the man for something that might clear me if I
was held in suspicion for this night's work--as also my wife Bridget.
"After at first denying me with oaths and curses, he threw down this bit
paper that I have communicated to your worship, and in a pet trampled it
into the pebbles among which the sea was churning and lappering. He
pushed off into the boat, sending it out by his weight.
"'There,' he cried back, 'let them make what they will of that if ye be
called in question. And, hear ye, Boyd Connoway, this I do for the sake
of that hard-working woman, your wife, and not for you, that are but a
careless, idle good-for-nothing!'"
"Deil or man," broke in my grandmother, who thought she had kept silence
long enough, "never was a truer word spoken!"
Boyd Connoway looked pathetically about. He seemed to implore some one
to stand up in his defence. I would have liked to do it, because of his
kindness to me, but dared not before such an assembly and on so solemn
an occasion.
"I put it to the honourable gentlemen now assembled," said Boyd
Connoway, "if a man can rightly be called a lazy good-for-nothing when
he rose at four of the morning to cut his wife's firewood----"
"Should have done it the night before," interrupted my grandmother.
"And was at Urr kirkyard at ten to help dig a grave, handed the service
of cake and wine at twelve, rung the bell, covered in the corp, and
sodded him down as snug as you, Mr. Fiscal, will sleep in your bed this
night----!"
"That will do," said the Fiscal, who thought Boyd Connoway had had quite
enough rope. "Tell us what happened after that--and briefly, as I said
before."
"Why, I went over to Widow McVinnie's to milk her cow. It calved only
last Wednesday, and I am fond of 'beesten cheese.' Besides, the
scripture says, 'Help the widows in their afflictions'--or words to that
effect."
"After this man Lalor Maitland had got into the boat, what happened?"
The Fiscal spoke sharply. He thought he was being played with, when, in
fact, Boyd was only letting his tongue run on naturally.
"Nothing at all, your honour," said Boyd promptly. "The men in the boat
just set their oars to the work and were round the corner in a jiffey. I
ran to the point by the narrow square opening into the soft sandstone
rock, and lying low on my face I could see a lugger close in under the
heugh of Boreland, where she would never have dared to go, save that the
wind was off shore and steady. But after the noise of the oars in the
rowlocks died away I heard no more, and look as I would, I never saw the
lugger slip out of the deep shadow of the heughs. So, there being
nothing further to be done, I filled my pockets with the dulse that
grows there, thin and sweet. For nowhere along the Solway shore does one
get the right purple colour and the clean taste of the dulse as in that
of Portowarren, towards the right-hand nook as you stand looking up the
brae face."
Having tendered this very precise indication to whom it might concern,
Boyd bowed to the company and took his leave.
* * * * *
The Fiscal was for holding him in ward lest he should escape, being such
a principal witness. But the three Justices knew well that there was no
danger of this, and indeed all of them expressed their willingness to go
bail for the appearance of Boyd Connoway whenever he should be wanted.
"And a great many times when he is not!" added my grandmother, with tart
frankness.