To the waterman's unreserved statement of facts and suspicions, Captain
Ryecroft makes no rejoinder. The last are in exact consonance with his
own already conceived, the first alone new to him.
And on the first he now fixes his thoughts, directing them to that
particular one of a boat being in the neighbourhood of the Llangorren
grounds about the time he was leaving them. For it, too, has a certain
correspondence with something on the same night observed by himself--a
circumstance he had forgotten, or ceased to think of; but now recalled
with vivid distinctness. All the more as he listens to the conjectures
of Wingate--about three men having been in that boat, and whom he
supposed them to be.
The number is significant as corresponding with what occurred to
himself. The time as well; since, but a few hours before, he also had
his attention drawn to a boat, under circumstances somewhat mysterious.
The place was different; for all not to contradict the supposition of
the waterman--rather confirming it.
On his way to the Court--his black dress kerseymere protected by
India-rubber overalls--Ryecroft, as known, had ridden to Wingate's
house, and was thence rowed to Llangorren. His going to a ball by boat,
instead of carriage or hotel hackney, was not for the sake of
convenience, nor yet due to eccentricity. The prospect of a private
interview with his betrothed at parting, as on former occasions expected
to be pleasant, was his ruling motive for this arrangement. Besides,
his calls at the Court were usually made in the same way; his custom
being to ride as far as the Wingate cottage, leave his roadster there,
and thence take the skiff. Between his town and the waterman's house
there is a choice of routes, the main country road keeping well away
from the river, and a narrower one which follows the trend of the stream
along its edge where practicable, but also here and there thrown off by
meadows subject to inundations, or steep spurs of the parallel ridges.
This, an ancient trackway now little used, was the route Captain
Ryecroft had been accustomed to take on his way to Wingate's cottage,
not from its being shorter or better, but for the scenery, which far
excelling that of the other, equals any upon the Wyeside. In addition,
the very loneliness of the road had its charm for him; since only at
rare intervals is house seen by its side, and rarer still living
creature encountered upon it. Even where it passes Rugg's Ferry, there
intersecting the ford road, the same solitude characterises it. For
this quaint conglomeration of dwellings is on the opposite side of the
stream; all save the chapel, and the priest's house, standing some
distance back from the bank, and screened by a spinney of trees.
With the topography of this plan he is quite familiar; and now to-night
it is vividly recalled to his mind by what the waterman has told him.
For on that other night, so sadly remembered, as he was riding past
Rugg's, he saw the boat thus brought back to his recollection. He had
got a little beyond the crossing of the Ford road, where it leads out
from the river--himself on the other going downwards--when his attention
was drawn to a dark object against the bank on the opposite side of the
stream. The sky at the time moonless he might not have noticed it, but
for other dark objects seen in motion beside it--the thing itself being
stationary. Despite the obscurity he could make them out to be men,
busied around a boat. Something in their movements, which seemed made
in a stealthy manner--too cautious for honesty--prompted him to pull up,
and sit in his saddle observing them. He had himself no need to take
precautions for concealment; the road at this point passing under old
oaks, whose umbrageous branches; arcading over, shadowed the causeway,
making it dark around as the interior of a cavern.
Nor was he called upon to stay long there--only a few seconds after
drawing bridle--just time enough for him to count the men, and see there
were three of them--when they stepped over the sides of the boat, pushed
her out from the bank, and rowed off down the river.
Even then he fancied there was something surreptitious in their
proceedings; for the oars, instead of rattling in their rowlocks made
scarce any noise, while their dip was barely audible, though so near.
Soon both boat and those on board were out of his sight, and the slight
sound made by them beyond his hearing. Had the road kept along the
river's bank he would have followed, and further watched them; but just
below Rugg's it is carried off across a ridge, with steep pitch; and
while ascending this, he ceased to think of them.
He might not have thought of them at all, had they made their
embarkation at the ordinary landing-place, by the ford and ferry. There
such a sight would have been nothing unusual, nor a circumstance to
excite curiosity. But the boat, when he first observed it, was lying
below--up against the bank by the chapel ground, across which the men
must have come.
Recalling all this, with what Jack Wingate has just told him, connecting
events together, and making comparison of time, place, and other
circumstances, he thus interrogatively reflects:
"Might not that boat have been the same whose oars Jack heard down
below? And the men in it those whose names he has mentioned? Three of
them--that at least in curious correspondence! But the time? About
nine, or a little after, as I passed Rugg's Ferry. That appears too
early for the after event? No! They may have had other arrangements to
make before proceeding to their murderous work. Odd, though, their
knowing _she_ would be out there. But they need not have known that--
likely did not. More like they meant to enter the house, after every
one had gone away, and there do the deed. A night different from the
common, everything in confusion, the servants sleeping sounder than
usual from having indulged in drink--some of them overcome by it, as I
saw myself before leaving. Yes; it's quite probable the assassins took
all that into consideration--surprised, no doubt, to find their victim
so convenient--in fact, as if she had come forth to receive them! Poor
girl!"
All this chapter of conjectures has been to himself, and in sombre
silence; at length broken by the voice of his boatman, saying--
"You've come afoot, Captain; an' it be a longish walk to the town, most
o' the road muddy. Ye'll let me row you up the river--leastways for a
couple o' miles further? Then ye can take the footpath through Powell's
meadows."
Roused as from a reverie, the Captain looking out, sees they are nearly
up to the boatman's cottage, which accounts for the proposal thus made.
After a little reflection he says in reply:--
"Well, Jack; if it wasn't that I dislike over-working you--"
"Don't mention it!" interrupts Jack, "I'll be only too pleased to take
you all the way to the town itself, if ye say the word. It a'nt so late
yet, but to leave me plenty of time. Besides, I've got to go up to the
Ferry anyhow, to get some grocery for mother. I may as well do it in
the boat--'deed better than dragglin' along them roughish roads."
"In that case I consent. But you must let me take the oars."
"No, Captain. I'd prefer workin' 'em myself; if it be all the same to
you."
The Captain does not insist, for in truth he would rather remain at the
tiller. Not because he is indisposed for a spell of pulling. Nor is it
from disinclination to walk, that he has so readily accepted the
waterman's offer. After reflecting, he would have asked the favour so
courteously extended. And for a reason having nothing to do with
convenience, for the fear of fatigue; but a purpose which has just
shaped itself in his thoughts, suggested by the mention of the Ferry.
It is that he may consider this--be left free to follow the train of
conjecture which the incident has interrupted--he yields to the
boatman's wishes, and keeps his seat in the stern.
By a fresh spurt the _Mary_ is carried beyond her mooring-place; as she
passes it her owner for an instant feathering his oars and holding up
his hat. It is a signal to one he sees there, standing outside in the
moonlight--his mother.
Volume Three, Chapter V.