BUTSEY'S STORY
There was no excitement in Wargrove next day over the burglars who
had entered "The Arabian Nights," for the simple reason that the
village knew nothing about the matter. But a rumour was current, that
Mr. Hill had gone out of his mind. No one was astonished, as he had
always been regarded as queer. Now, it appeared, he was stark,
staring mad, and no longer the harmless eccentric the village had
known for so long. And the rumour was true.
"It is terrible to think of the punishment which has befallen him,
Allen," said Mrs. Hill the next morning; "but can we call it
undeserved?"
"I suppose not," answered her son gloomily. "I wish I had remained at
home last night, mother."
"Things would have been worse, had you remained. There would have been
a fight."
"I would have saved Eva's diamonds, at all events."
"Let the diamonds go, Hill," chimed in Parkins, who formed a third
in the conversation, "they were come by dishonestly, and would have
brought no luck. You come out to Bolivia, and fix up the mine. Then
you can make your own coin, and marry Miss Strode."
"But you forget, Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill, "I am now rich, and
Allen need not go to America."
"No, mother," said Allen hastily, "I'll go. You will do much more
good with my father's money than I can. Besides----" he hesitated,
and looked at Horace. The American interpreted the look.
"Guess you want a little private conversation," he said; "well
I'll light out and have a smoke. You can call me when you want me
again," and Mr. Parkins, producing his pipe, left the room.
"My poor mother," said Allen, embracing her, "don't look so sad. It is
very terrible and----
"You can't console me, Allen," said the poor woman bitterly, "so do
not try to. To think that I should have believed in that man all
these years. He was a thief--doubly a thief; he not only robbed the
Delhams of the necklace, but robbed the dead, and me of my good
name."
"I almost think the dead deserved to be robbed," said Allen; "I begin
to believe, mother, that Strode was my father's evil genius as he said
he was. Why should my father steal this necklace, when he had plenty
of money?"
"He had not at the time. I think his father kept him short. He took
the necklace, I expect, under the strong temptation of finding the key
in the school-room."
"I believe Strode urged him to steal it," said Allen, "and at all
events Strode was not above profiting by the theft. And it was Strode
who brought about the marriage----"
"By threats," said Mrs. Hill grimly, "I expect, Strode swore he would
reveal the truth, unless Lawrence married me. And I thought Lawrence
acted so, out of chivalry."
"But if Strode had revealed the truth he would have incriminated
himself."
"Ah, but, as I learn, he waited till after I was married before he
disposed of the necklace. Then he sold it through Father Don, who
was his associate in villainy. However, Strode is dead and your
father is mad. I wonder what fate will befall Merry and those
wretches he associates with?"
"Oh, their sins will come home to them, never fear," said Allen, in a
prophetic vein. "I suppose it is best to let the matter rest."
"Certainly. Father Don and his two associates have got away. What
about Merry?"
"He went almost at once to Shanton, and did not pay for the
_char-à-banc_. The owner is in a fine rage and drove back to
Shanton at midnight, vowing to summons Merry, who was responsible
for its ordering."
"Well, they are out of our life at last," said his mother, "we now
know the secret which caused your unhappy father to try and
murder Strode, and did make him steal the hand. The confession
has been destroyed, so no one can say anything. Merry will not
speak----"
"No; that's all right. Merry is going to receive money from old
Lady Ipsen, for stopping the marriage of Saltars with Miss Lorry.
I expect he will go to Africa as he says. He'll hold his tongue
and so will the others. But they have the diamonds, and poor Eva
receives nothing."
"I agree with Mr. Parkins," said Mrs. Hill quickly, "the jewels
were come by dishonestly, and would have brought no good fortune.
Will you tell Eva anything, Allen?"
"No. I'll tell her as little as possible. No one, but you, I, and
Parkins, know of the events of last night. My poor father has
been reported ill for some time and has always been so eccentric,
so it will surprise no one to hear he has gone mad. We will place
him in some private asylum, and----"
"No, Allen," said Mrs. Hill firmly, "the poor soul is harmless.
After all, wickedly as he has acted, he has been severely
punished, and is my husband. I'll keep him here and look after him
till the end comes--and that won't be long," sighed Mrs. Hill.
"Very good, mother, you shall act as you think fit. But we know
the truth now."
"Yes, save who murdered Mr. Strode."
"I believe Jerry did, or Giles."
"They both deny doing so."
"Of course," said Allen contemptuously, "to save their own skins.
I shall go up to London, mother, and tell Mr. Mask what has taken
place."
But there was no need for Allen to go to town. That afternoon the
lawyer arrived and with him a small boy with one eye. The lad was
neatly dressed, he had his hair cut, and his face washed. In
spite of his one eye and white cheeks he looked a very smart
youngster, and grinned in a friendly manner at Allen and Horace.
"This," said Mr. Mask, leading the lad into the room, where the
young men were smoking after luncheon, "is Master Train----"
"Butsey?" said Allen.
"Oh no," replied Mask gravely, "he is a gentleman of property now
and is living on his money. You mustn't call him by so low a name
as Butsey."
The boy grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I saiy, how long's
this a-goin' on?" he inquired; "you've been shying fun at me all day."
"We won't shy fun any more," said Mr. Mask in his melancholy voice. "I
have brought you here to make a clean breast of it."
"About the diamonds?"
"We know about the diamonds," said Horace. "I guess Father Don's got
them."
"Saikes! hes he?" said Butsey regretfully; "that comes of me tellin'
about the letter I guv to you"--this was to Mask--"if he hadn't opened
the hand, he wouldn't have got 'em."
"You are quite wrong, Butsey," said Allen, rising. "Horace, I'll
leave the boy in your keeping. Mr. Mask, will you come with me into
the next room?"
Rather surprised, Mask did so, and was speedily put in possession
of the terrible story. He quite agreed that the matter should be
kept quiet. "Though I hope it won't be necessary to rake it up when
Butsey is tried for murder."
"What! did that boy shoot Mr. Strode?"
"I think so," said the lawyer, looking puzzled; "but to tell you the
truth I'm not sure. I can't get the boy to speak freely. He said he
would do so, only in the presence of you and Parkins. That is why I
brought him down."
"How did you get hold of him?"
"Through one of the stolen notes. Butsey presented himself at the
bank and cashed ten pounds. He was arrested and brought to me. I
gave bail for him, and brought him to explain."
"Where did he get the notes?"
"Out of the blue pocket-book, he says--in which case he must have
committed the murder. Not for his own sake," added Mask quickly. "I
fear the poor little wretch has been made a cat's-paw by the others."
"Well," said Allen, drawing a long breath of astonishment, "wonders
will never cease. I never thought Butsey was guilty."
"I can't be sure yet if he is. But, at all events, he certainly knows
who is the culprit, and, to save his own neck, he will confess."
"But would the law hang a boy like that even if guilty?"
"I don't think Butsey will give the law the chance of trying the
experiment. He's a clever little reptile. But we had better
return and examine him. Your mother----?"
"She is with my poor father."
"Is that quite safe?" asked Mask anxiously. "Perfectly. He is
harmless."
Mask looked sympathetic, although he privately thought that
madness was the best thing which could have befallen Mr. Hill,
seeing he had twice brought himself within the clutches of the
law. At least there was now no danger of his being punished for
theft or attempted murder, whatever might be said by those who had
escaped with the diamonds; and certainly Mrs. Hill would be
relieved of a very troublesome partner. Had Hill remained sane,
she would not have lived with him after discovering how he had
tricked her into marriage, and had traded on her deep gratitude
all these years. Now, by tending him in his hopeless state, she
was heaping coals of fire on his head, and proving herself to be,
what Mask always knew she truly was, a good woman.
So, in Allen's company, he returned to the room where Parkins was
keeping watch over Master Train, and found that brilliant young
gentleman smoking a cigarette. "Produced it from a silver case
too," said the amused American. "This is a mighty smart boy. I
guess you got rid of a lot of that money, bub?"
"I cashed two notes," said Butsey coolly, "but the third trapped
me. But I don't care. I've had a good time!"
"And I expect you'll pass the rest of your life in gaol."
"What's that?" said Butsey, not turning a hair; "in gaol?--not
me. I've been in quod once and didn't like it. I ain't a-goin'
again. No, sir, you give me some cash, Mr. Hill, and I'll go to
the States."
"They'll lynch you there, as sure as a gun," said Horace,
grinning.
Allen was quite taken aback by the coolness of the prisoner, for
a prisoner Butsey virtually was. Mask leaned back nursing his
foot, and did not take much part in the conversation. He
listened to Allen examining the culprit, and only put a word in
now and then.
"You don't seem to realise your position," said Hill sharply.
"Oh yuss, I does," said Butsey, calmly blowing a cloud of smoke,
"you wants to get the truth out of me. Well, I'll tell it, if
you'll let me go. I dessay our friend here"--he nodded to
Mask--"can arrange with the peelers about that note."
"It's probable I can," said Mask, tickled at the impudence of the
boy; "but wouldn't you rather suffer for stealing, than for
murder?"
The boy jumped up and became earnest at once. "See here," he said,
wetting his finger, "that's wet," and then he wiped it on his
jacket, "that's dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie. I didn't shoot
the old bloke. S'elp me, I didn't!"
"Who did, then? Do you know?"
"I might know; but you've got to make it worth my while to split."
Allen took the boy by the collar and shook him. "You young imp," he
said, "you'll tell everything you know, or pass some time in gaol."
"Make me tell, then," said Butsey, and put out his tongue.
"Suppose I hand you over to Father Don and your own parent?"
"Can't, sir. Th' gang's broke up. They'll go abroad with them
diamonds, and start in some other country. 'Sides, I ain't going in
for that business again. I'm going to be respectable, I am. And I did
git you out of the den, sir," said Butsey more earnestly.
Allen dropped his hand from the boy's collar. "You certainly did
that--at the request of Miss Lorry. What of her?"
"Nothing but good," said Butsey, flushing; "she's the best and
kindest laidy in the world. I ain't a-goin' to saiy anything of
her."
"I don't want you to talk of people who have nothing to do with
the matter in hand," said Hill; "but you must tell us about the
murder. If you don't----"
"What am I a-goin' to get fur splitting?" asked Butsey in a
businesslike way.
"I'll arrange that you won't go to gaol. You must remember, Master
Train," said Mask with deliberation, "that you are in a dangerous
position. The note you cashed was taken from a pocket-book which the
murdered man had on his person, when he was shot. How did you get
it, eh? The presumption is that you shot him."
Butsey whistled between his teeth. "You can't frighten me," said
he, his one eye twinkling savagely; "but I'll tell you everything,
'cept who shot the bloke."
"Huh," said Horace. "I guess we can ravel out that, when we know
what you have to say. But you speak straight, young man, or I'll
hide you proper."
"Lor," said Butsey coolly, "I've bin hided by father and old Don
much wuss than you can hammer. But I'll tell--jest you three keep
your ears open. Where 'ull I begin?"
"From the beginning," said Allen; "how did the gang come to know that
Strode had the diamonds?"
"It wos father told 'em," said Butsey candidly. "Father's Red
Jerry, an' a onener at that--my eye! He got into trouble here, and
cuts to furrein parts some years ago. In Africay he saw the dead
bloke."
"Strode?"
"Well, ain't I a-saiyin' of him?" snapped Butsey; "yuss--Strode.
Father comes 'ome in the saime ship es Strode and knows all about
'im having prigged diamonds in Africay."
"What do you mean by prigged?"
"Wot I saiy, in course. Strode got them diamonds wrong----"
"I. D. B.," said Parkins. "I told you so, Hill."
"Well then," went on Butsey, looking mystified at the mention of
the letters, "father didn't see why he shouldn't git the diamonds,
so he follered the dead bloke to this here country and come to
tell old Father Don in the Perry Street ken. Father Don and Foxy
both went in with father----"
"To murder Strode?" said Allen.
"Not much. They wanted to rob him, but didn't want to dance on
nothink. Father Don's a fly one. I was told about the job, an'
sent to watch the dead bloke. I watched him in London, and he wos
never out of my sight. He wos coming down to this here plaice on
Thursdaiy---"
"How do you know that?" asked Mask.
"Cause I knows the 'all porter at the Guelph Hotel, an' he tells
me," said Butsey calmly. "I cuts an' tells Father Don, and him
and father an' Foxy all come to Westhaven on Wednesday to see him
as is called Merry."
"He's another of the gang?"
"Rather. He's bin in with us fur years, he hes. And he wos doin' the
strong man at Stag's circus at Westhaven. Father Don, he come down,
knowing Merry 'ated Strode, to try and get him to do the robbin'."
"Did Merry agree?"
"In course he did, only too glad to get a shot at Strode----"
"Do you mean to say Merry shot him?"
"Naow," said Butsey, making a gesture of irritation, "let a cove
talk. I'll tell you if he shot him, if you'll let me. I saiy we
wos all down to fix things on Wednesdaiy, and I come along with a
blessed ragged kids' fresh air fund, so as to maike m'self saife,
if the police took a hand. I didn't want to be mixed with no gang,
having my good name to think of."
Horace grinned and rubbed his hands, but Allen frowned. "Go on," he
said sharply, "and don't play the fool."
"Oh, I'm a-goin' on," was the unruffled reply, "and I don't plaiy th'
fool without cause, d'ye see. Well, I wos at the station at Westhaven,
an' I sees Strode come. I went off to tell Merry, and he comes to the
station and talks to Strode."
"That was on Wednesday?"
"Yuss. Strode sold 'us and come down, though we didn't 'ope to 'ave
the pleasure of his company till Thursday. Well, I tried to 'ear
what Giles wos a-saiying, but he guves me a clip on the ear and
sends me spinnin', so I couldn't 'ear. I goes to complain to Father
Don, an' when I gits back, Strode's away and Merry too. He'd started
walkin' to Wargrove, a porter tole me. I wos about to foller, when
Merry, he comes up and tells me, he'll go himself."
"That's a lie," said Allen; "Merry was doing the strong man that night
in the circus."
"No, he wasn't," grinned the boy. "I went to the circus, havin'
nothin' to do, and I saw the strong man. It wos Cain Merry, his son,
he's like his father, and could do the fakements. No one knew but the
circus coves."
"Then Merry----?"
"He went after Strode. I told Father Don an' Foxy, an' they swore
awful. They couldn't start after him, as they didn't know what 'ud
happen, and Merry's an awful one when put out, so they waited along o'
me, d'ye see? Next daiy Merry come back, but said he'd left Strode
a-goin' to the Red Deeps."
"What did Father Don do?"
"He went to the Red Deeps an' found the dead bloke. Then he come back
and saw Merry. What he said to 'im I don't know: but Father Don sent
me with a telegram to send from the St. James's Street orfice, saiying
that Strode wouldn't be down till Friday. I think Father Don did that,
to give toime to Merry to get awaiy."
"That was the telegram received by Miss Strode after nine on Thursday,
I think?" said Mask.
"Yuss," said Butsey. "I sent it early an' the kid es took it to
Wargrove forgot it till laite. I comes down again from town, gits back
with the fresh air kids, saime night, to sell the peelers, an' nex'
mornin' I comes down agin to tell Mrs. Merry es Cain would be over
th' nex' daiy."
"Why did you do that? Cain was in the house."
"I knowed he wos. But Merry sent me to see if Miss Eva hed heard
o' the death. Then I cuts----"
"One moment," said Allen, "if Father Don saw the man dead, why
didn't he take the wooden hand?"
"Cause he didn't know it wos worth anythin' till Mr. Masks here spoke
at the inquest."
"About its being delivered to get the diamonds?" said Mask; "quite
so. And you saw Mr. Hill bury it?"
"Yuss. I wos told to watch him, es Merry said he knew a lot about
Strode, and if the wust come he might be accused----"
"A clever plot. Well?"
"I follered him and saw him bury something. I digs it up and takes
the cross es he put over it to mark it. Then I gives the 'and to
Father Don an' the cross to Merry. He sends it to Hill to frighten
him, and sends it through Cain. Then Father Don sees Mr. Mask, and
you knows the rest."
"Not all, I guess," said Horace, stretching a long arm and shaking
the boy, "say straight, you--you imp. Did Merry shoot?"
"Of course he did," replied Butsey cheerfully, "he hated Strode, an'
wanted to git them diamonds. Merry hed the blue pocket-book, fur
when I come down to see Miss Lorry at Shanton, I took the book from
Merry's box which wos in his room. He found me with it and took it
back, hammerin' me fur stealin'. But I got the notes," added Butsey
with satisfaction, "and I spent three."
"Merry seems to be guilty," said Mr. Mask; "he was absent from the
circus on that night and let his son--who resembles, him closely--take
his place. He had the pocket-book and----"
"Got the diamonds? No, he didn't," said Butsey briskly, "he didn't
know es the hand would open. I found that out from a letter I guv
you, Mr. Mask, and tole ole Father Don. He opened the hand--that wos
arter he saw you, Mr. Mask--but he foun' nothin'. Then he guessed es
Hill--your father, Mr. Allen--had got the diamonds, seein' he had the
han', while looking fur some paiper. An' Merry got the paiper out of
the pocket-book," said Butsey, "an' showed it to Don. Wot Don did
with it I dunno."
"He got the diamonds with it," said Allen grimly, "and has escaped.
But I don't think Merry will. He's at Shanton now, as the circus is
again there by particular request of the townsfolk. We'll go over
to-night, Parkins, and see him perform: then we'll catch him and make
him confess."
"Will you have him arrested?" asked Horace coolly.
"We'll see when the time comes," said Allen shortly. "Mask----?"
"I'll remain here and look after this boy, Master Train."
Butsey made a grimace, but so the matter was arranged.