Towards sunset a fresh inspection was made of the tracks, Jessuron going
in person to examine them. The skilled herdsman was again questioned;
and on this occasion a fresh fact was elicited; or rather a conjecture,
which the man had not made before, since he had not noticed the
circumstance on which he rested it.
It was some peculiarity in the sole of the shoe that had made the
strange track, and which guided the herdsman to guess who was the owner.
In scouring the forest paths in search of his cattle, he had observed
that footmark before, or one very like it.
"If't be de same, massa," remarked he, in reply to the cross-questioning
of the Jew, "den I knows who owns dat fut. It longs to that ere cappen
of Maroons."
"Cubina?"
"Ah--that's jest the berry man."
The Jew listened to this conjecture with marked inquietude; which was
increased as another circumstance was brought to his knowledge: that
Quaco the Maroon--who had been arrested along with Herbert on the day of
his first appearance at the penn--had been lately seen in communication
with the latter, and apparently in a clandestine manner. Blue Dick was
the authority for this piece of incidental intelligence.
The penn-keeper's suspicions had pointed to Cubina at an earlier hour of
the day. These circumstances strengthened them.
It needed but another link to complete the chain of evidence, and this
was found in the tobacco-pipe left in the hammock: a rather unique
implement, with an iron bowl, and a stem made out of the shankbone of an
ibis.
On being shown the pipe, the herdsman recognised it on sight. It was
the "cutty" of Captain Cubina. More than once had he met the Maroon
with the identical instrument between his teeth.
Jessuron doubted no longer that Cubina had been the abductor of his
book-keeper. Nor Judith, either: for the Jewess had taken part in the
analytical process that guided to this conclusion.
Judith was rather gratified at the result. She was glad it was no
worse. Perhaps, after all, the young Englishman had only gone on a
visit to the Maroon, with whom she knew him to be acquainted: for Judith
had been informed of all the circumstances connected with their first
encounter. What was more natural than a sort of attachment between
them, resulting from such an odd introduction? Curiosity may have
induced Herbert to accompany the Maroon to his mountain home; and this
was sufficient to explain his absence.
True, there were circumstances not so easily explained. The presence of
the Maroon at the penn--his track twice to and fro--the hurried
departure of Herbert, without any previous notice either to herself or
to her father--all these circumstances were suspicious; and the spirit
of the jealous Judith, though partially tranquillised by a knowledge of
the new facts that had come to light, was, nevertheless, not quite
relieved from its perplexity.
The same knowledge had produced an effect on the spirit of her worthy
parent altogether different. So far from being gratified by the idea
that his book-keeper was in the company of the Maroon captain, he was
exceedingly annoyed by it. He at once remembered how pointedly Herbert
had put certain questions to him, in relation to the fate of the flogged
runaway--the prince. He remembered, also, his own evasive answers; and
he now foresaw, that in the case of the questioner being in the company
of Cubina, the latter would give him a very different account of the
transaction--in fact, such a statement as could not fail to bring about
the most crooked consequences.
Once in possession of those damning facts, the young Englishman--of
whose good moral principles the old Jew had become cognisant--would be
less likely to relish him, Jessuron, for a father-in-law. Such an
awkward affair coming to his knowledge might have the effect, not only
to alienate his much-coveted friendship--his equally-solicited love--but
to drive him altogether from a house, whose hospitality he might deem
suspicious.
Was it possible that this very result had already arisen? Was the whole
scheme of the penn-keeper to prove a failure? Had murder--the blackest
of all crimes--been committed in vain?
There was but little doubt left on the mind of Jacob Jessuron that the
deed was now done. Whether by the poison of Chakra, or the steel of the
_cacadores_, so far as the Custos himself was concerned, that part of
the programme would, by this time, be complete; or so near its
completion, that no act of the instigator could stay its execution.
How, when, and where was it done? And had it been done in vain?
During the early part of that same night--and on through the midnight
hours--thus interrogatively reflected the Jew.
He slept not; or only in short spells of unquiet slumber, taken in his
chair--as on the night before, in the open verandah. It was care, not
conscience, that kept him awake--apprehension of the future, rather than
remorse for the past.
After midnight, and near morning, a thought became uncontrollable--a
desire to be satisfied, if not about the last of these interrogatories,
at least in relation to the former.
In all likelihood Chakra would, by that time, have returned?--would be
found in his lair in the Duppy's Hole?
Why he had followed the Custos, Jessuron could not tell. He could only
guess at the motive. Perhaps he, Chakra, was in fear that his spell
might not be sufficient; and, failing, he might find an opportunity to
strengthen it? Or, was it that he wished to be witness to the final
scene? to exult over his hated enemy in the last hour of life?
Knowing, as the Jew did, the circumstances that had long existed between
the two men--their mutual malice--Chakra's deadly purposes of
vengeance--this conjecture was far from improbable.
It was the true one; though he also gave thought to another--that
perhaps the myal-man had followed his victim for the purpose of
_tendering him_.
To ascertain that he had succeeded in the preliminary step--that of
murdering him--the Jew forsook his chair couch; and, having habited
himself for a nocturnal excursion, proceeded in the direction of the
Duppy's Hole.
Volume Three, Chapter XVII.