"DEAR STOWELL,--Of course you have heard what has happened. The
escaped prisoner must be recaptured and dealt with according to
law. And not she only, but her accomplice also. You know who
that is--young Gell. The evidence against him is overwhelming.
We have traced him almost to the door of the Castle on Sunday
evening, and find, too, that a trading steamer left Castletown
late the same night. There can hardly be a doubt that the
fugitives sailed in her. We must find where she has gone to and
bring her passengers back.
"Come here to-morrow morning to issue the necessary warrant and
assist Farrell to the 'distinguishing marks' which may be needful
for Gell's identification. I know there is a certain risk in
re-opening this wretched inquiry. I had hoped to bury it once
for all when I decided on what you thought the extreme step of
sending the guilty woman to the gallows. But law and order must
be upheld, and the sooner we can silence the people, who are
saying we are winking at the corruption of justice to spare the
son of the Speaker and the friend of the Deemster, the better for
everybody.
"Be here at eleven. We (the Attorney and the Chief Constable are
coming) will be waiting for you. Good Lord, haven't you been
long enough away from this house anyway? If there are strained
relations between you and Fenella let them be faced squarely and
straightened out at once--Yours, etc.,
"JOHN S. STANLEY, "_Brig.-Gen., K.C.B._
"P.S.--Fenella says you have a photograph of Gell which was taken
in America some years ago. It is probably the only one on the
island, and therefore invaluable to Farrel at this moment. Bring
it with you--don't forget."
Stowell was struck with stupor. Alick Gell _was_ in danger, then,
and the whole situation was different.
Raising his eyes after reading the Governor's letter he saw Gell's
photograph on the mantelpiece in front of him. At that sight a flame
of passion took possession of him, and snatching up the picture he
flung it in the fire.
"No, by God!" he said aloud. And if Farrell ever asked him for
"distinguishing marks" towards Gell's identification he would take
him by the throat and choke him.
But what about the warrant? Any Justice of the peace might issue it,
but if the Governor asked him to do so the request would be equal to
a command. Suppose he did, what would be the result? Bessie would
be brought back and executed. Worse than that, even worse in its
different way, Gell would be arrested and tried--perhaps by him, and
under his warrant!
"No, no, no! It would be a crime--a base, cowardly, infamous,
abominable crime!"
The veins of his forehead swelled as he thought of the trial. It
would be more terrible than the other one. To sit in judgment on an
innocent man, being himself the guilty one--not Jeffries, or
Braxfield, or Brandon or Harebottle or any of the bewigged barbarians
whose names befouled the annals of jurisprudence had done anything so
awful.
"Never," he thought. "Never in this world."
Yet what alternative had he? After dinner (he had tried to eat to
keep up appearances before Janet) he drew to the fire and tried to
think things out. He had sat long hours in pain, and the fire had
died down, when a kind of melancholy peace came to him and he thought
he saw what he had to do.
He had to get up early in the morning, reach Government House before
the others had arrived, see the Governor alone and say to him in
secret,
"I cannot issue this warrant for the arrest of Alick Gell for
breaking prison to procure that girl's release because _I_ did it."
What would happen then? The Governor (he was a just man if a hard
one) would say,
"In that case, you cannot be a Judge in this island any longer."
But that would be all. Out of consideration for his daughter, and
perhaps for the man who was to become his daughter's husband, the
Governor would go no farther. Some show he might make of publishing
the police notice, but he would never send to a foreign country.
There would be no scandal. The public would know nothing. They had
heard that the new Deemster had been unwell, and would be told that
his health had broken down altogether, and he had had to resign his
office. It would be a month's talk, and then--Time would cover up
the whole miserable story in the merciful vein in which it hides so
many of our misdoings.
And Fenella? He would tell Fenella also. It would be a shock to
her, but she would be on his side now. She would see that he had
only tried to prevent a judicial murder, to secure the happiness of
two unhappy creatures who, but for him, would have been plunged in
misery. They would marry and go away from the island, to Switzerland
perhaps, and live there for the rest of their lives.
"Yes, that's it, that's it," he told himself.
It was a cruel comforting--like the surgeon's knife, which, while
taking away a man's disease, takes some of his life-blood also.
He thought of his father, how proud the old Deemster had been of his
judicial position and how anxious that his son should succeed to
it--it was pitiful. He thought of Fenella, what great things they
had planned to do when he became a Judge, and now all their hopes had
fallen to dust and ashes--it was agonising.
Was it necessary? Inevitable? To be cast aside on life's highway in
suffering and shame everlasting; to be like a wretched ship that lies
at the bottom of the sea, swaying to the ground-swell below, and
moaning like a lost soul to the moans of the other wrecks in the womb
of the ocean?
It was not as if he had injured anybody. He had done harm to nobody,
and nothing. Yet he must do what he had thought of. There was no
help for it.
It was late. The household was asleep. The log fire he had been
crouching over had fallen to ashes on the hearth. He was shivering
and he got up to go to bed. Before leaving the library he sat at the
desk under his mother's picture and wrote--
"_Please call me at six. I must take the first train to Douglas._"
He was laying this on the table on the landing, lighting his candle
and putting out the lamp, when he heard wheels on the carriage drive,
and then a loud ringing at the front door bell.
Who could have come at this time of night? Candle in hand he went
down and opened the door.
It was Joshua Scarff.