THE INQUEST.
"THAT'S two geese lost this spring," observed one of the men next
morning, as the injured bird breathed her last under his hand. "Warn't
the governor mad!"
And so he was. He cursed, he swore, he raged; he would have stamped,
had not his infirmity prevented it. Above all, he felt deeply injured
that his gout prevented him from going out to see after things himself;
for when he used to be about, such casualties never happened. Being
tied to his chair, however, and having now one hand bad, in addition to
his feet, he could use nothing more violent than his tongue.
And at length, the men, having listened as long as they thought
necessary, to his stream of abuse, carried out the goose to execute
their mournful duty.
Left to himself, Farmer Bluff gradually cooled down; and as he cooled,
certain words of Hal's came back to mind. This gout, Hal had said, was
of his own seeking. If so, it was his own fault that he had lost the
geese. Farmer Bluff instinctively reached out his sound hand for the
silver mug, and having drained it of its contents, fell into a brown
study.
In the midst of his reflections, he heard a sudden tap against the
window at his back, and looking round, he saw Hal's face pressed
against the glass. The boy nodded; so did the bailiff—in spite of his
grumps; and Hal swung himself off to ring at the bell, sitting down in
the porch to wait.
Elspeth was more astonished than ever, on taking her usual peep through
the slit window.
"Well! If you ain't layin' yourself open to hear a lot of language that
ain't fit for the ears of the likes o' you!" exclaimed she, as she
opened the door. "The master's that mad about the goose, that he's done
nothing but swear ever since they brought her in."
Hal was already on his feet—or rather, his crutches.
"Never mind," said he. "It won't hurt me if he swears ever so. It's not
what goes in at your ears that defiles you, you know, but what comes
out of your mouth; because that shows what's in your heart."
So Hal went in, and was announced as before—"The young Squire, sir!"
Farmer Bluff was looking towards the door in expectation. His features
relaxed on sight of the boy's cheery face.
Hal wished him "good morning."
"Left hand," said he, as his young master swung himself across to shake
hands. The right arm was suspended from his neck in a large checked
handkerchief.
Hal looked serious. "Is that gout too, Mr. Bluff?" asked he, standing
in front of him, and eyeing the bandaged arm.
Farmer Bluff nodded.
"Ah! Young master," said he; "you didn't know what a plaguesome thing
it was, once it got hold of your system; did you now? It couldn't
be satisfied with getting me off my legs, but it must disable my
knife-hand. It'll have the fork one next, I'll be bound; and then there
'll be a pair of 'em. A quadruped of gout!"
He looked rather proud over this joke. It wasn't many he made when he
had gout.
But Hal stood silent.
"I'm disappointed," said he. "I expected to find you better; and
instead of that, you're worse." And he went and sat down on a chair
opposite—the same one he had occupied on his first visit—looking
perplexed and grieved. Presently he said,—"It's that mug, Mr. Bluff.
I'm sure of that. Have you thought about it any more?"
"Why, no," returned the bailiff; "not much. I can't say I have. I've
thought more about the goose, a long chalk."
"Yes; that was a pity," said Hal sympathetically. "I was very sorry for
the poor thing."
"Two broods lost in one year," said Farmer Bluff, getting on his moody
expression again. "More than a man like me can afford to lose. Now, if
I'd been about—"
"There you are again," put in Hal. "If you will have gout—"
"It's all those men," continued the old fellow wrathfully. "They're
so—" Farmer Bluff pulled up suddenly, before he added "careless." He
was going to throw in one of his swearing expressions, to give weight
to the word; but he fortunately recollected Hal in time, and checked
himself.
"Did they find out what she died of?" asked Hal.
"Of a knife in her throat, of course," laughed the old bailiff grimly.
"But what was the matter first, I mean," explained Hal.
Farmer Bluff shook his head. "They brought her in to me," said he; "and
I couldn't see, except that she was dying pretty fast. So I told 'em to
put an end to it."
"You'll have an inquest, won't you?" said Hal presently.
Farmer Bluff laughed outright. "An inquest on a goose!" roared he.
"Upon my soul, young master, you're an original; though, when you come
to look at it, half the inquests are on geese. He! he!—" And he laughed
again at his own wit.
But Hal was quite in earnest. To him there was nothing funny in it at
all. "There always is a post-mortem," said he seriously, "when anybody
dies without the doctor being able to tell the cause of death. I think
that if I were you, I should like to know why that goose died. It might
enable you to prevent any more of them dying the same way, you know.
Perhaps it was something in the food."
Farmer Bluff shook his head. "I daresay it's been 'post-mortemed' for
somebody's dinner by now," said he, with grim humour. "I told 'em to
cut her throat and put her underground; but such as them don't often
get the chance to taste goose flesh. I'll be bound she's twirling on
the spit by now."
After a little more talk, Hal took his crutches. "Well," said he, "I
must wish you 'good morning,' Mr. Bluff; and as you've got the gout
in your right arm I won't trouble you to shake hands. But I'd have it
out of there, if I were you, feet and all. You really must think about
that mug this time; now, won't you? I'm certain it's the mug that does
the mischief; because, you see, you're proud of it, and directly we're
proud of anything, we forget all the rest. But you won't have a goose
to put it out of your head this time?"
Farmer Bluff replied that he "hoped to goodness not."
And Hal let himself out.
That evening at dinner,—for the boys always enjoyed the privilege of
dining with their grandfather in the holidays,—the subject of the goose
came up, and Hal told what he knew of its fate.
"Upon my word," remarked the Squire, after hearing how Hal had aired
his ideas about the post-mortem, "you were right too; and if I had
known it, the bird should not have been put out of the way in that
slip-shod fashion. As it is, the thing shall be looked into."
"Your bailiff is guilty of allowing the consumption of unwholesome
food," observed young Grantley, who had had accepted the Squire's
pressing invitation to make the Manor House his home whilst his pencil
was busy in the neighbourhood. "It is to be hoped the 'fortunate'
family will reap no disastrous effects."
"Such a thing might have very serious consequences," added Hal's
mother, who was very much concerned.
Finally, after due deliberation, the Squire gave orders that some one
should at once be sent to ascertain the name of the man to whom the
fate of the goose had been intrusted; and that having done this, the
messenger should at once proceed to the man's cottage, and learn what
had become of the stricken bird's remains.
It was quite late in the evening when at length a servant came to say
that Hobbs—the man who had gone—was waiting in the hall.
The boys' bedtime was already long past, but they had begged to sit up
a little longer, and they now all followed their grandfather out to
hear the result of the investigations.
Hobb's account, however, although it quieted all anxiety with regard to
the meal afforded to the Grig family, only involved in further mystery
the cause of the goose's death.
Mrs. Grig, on being questioned, had reported that when plucking it
ready for trussing, she had discovered a great black bruise upon its
breast, and that upon further examination she had found the breast-bone
to be broken. As to the wholesomeness of the flesh, however, she was
ready to affirm before anybody that a sweeter bird never came from the
poulterer's,—although "it wasn't quite in prime condition, not being in
the fatting season." She had finished up by giving it as her opinion
that there was no doubt about death having been due to accident rather
than disease.
"There was one item rayther cur'ous 'bout the information as I got,
sir," said Hobbs finally. "When old Jaggers went home to he's breakfast
at the stroke of eight that morning, there was three eggs in the old
white goose's nest, and two in the speckled's, as stood nighest it. But
when he comed back, blest if there hadn't out o' each nest disappeared
one egg; so's to leave no more'n two in one, and one in t'other,"
repeated Hobbs, looking round about upon his hearers to make sure they
followed him. "And depend upon it, that old white goose had had a fight
wi' some un as came to steal her egg. Though how the crittur dragged
herself right away down to the river, wi' that broken bone, is past all
understanding—except that sittin' birds 'll do 'most anything."
"What about the dog Blazer too?" exclaimed young Grantley, who had
followed out to hear the news. "Why! That was the first morning I was
there sketching. They said the dog was loose too."
"Who said so?" asked the Squire sharply.
"The boy who fetched my chair. And, by the by," exclaimed young
Grantley suddenly, "I have it all! That young rascal was down there
hiding in the ditch when first I came along; and he got in through
hedge in quite a practised fashion."
"Ha!" exclaimed the Squire. "But he didn't bring your chair that way?"
"No; he just used that as a pretext for getting through, and came back
with a black eye and a tale about the dog being off the chain; and,
having crammed me with that, he offered to go round to the front—"
"Where Blazer could have got at him just the same, if he had really
been loose," put in Hal.
"Now that I remember," added Grantley, "when I first came up and
caught him in the ditch, he invented a history about rats, for which
he professed to get so much a head. He said they stole the eggs; but
I guess the young scapegrace himself was the biggest rat of the lot,
and had his eye upon the biggest eggs. I should hardly think that rats
would tackle a goose's egg."
"There's not a doubt about it but you've found the clue," returned the
Squire. "The question to be answered is, Who was the boy?"
Young Grantley shook his head.
"But you put him in your picture, didn't you?" suggested Hal.
The Squire smiled. "Hal thoroughly believes in your power of faithful
portraiture," observed he.
Young Grantley laughed. "Yes," said he; "I put him in. I told him to
return in an hour or two. He was nearer three. He said he had been
home."
"Which way did he go?" asked Hal.
"Towards the riverbank," was the reply; "but then we haven't yet
decided who he was. My easel, Squire," he added, "is in Elspeth's
charge. I'll run down and fetch the canvas if you like."
"No, no; not the least hurry," returned the Squire; "the morning will
do just as well. We will sleep upon the information that you've given
us."
The boys begged hard to be allowed to escort young Grantley to the farm
at once; but it was getting very late, and their grandfather would not
entertain the idea.
"Dame Elspeth wouldn't thank us for curtailing her hours of rest,"
said he. "She is up betimes, no doubt. To bed, now; and directly after
breakfast to-morrow, we will start, and identify the thief."
Finding that there was no appeal, the boys gave in. Will and Sigismund
went off to bed in high spirits at the idea of dragging a culprit to
justice by means of an artist's sketch; but Hal lingered behind, a
minute.
"Grandfather," said he, "what will be done with the boy? Will he go to
prison, or what?"
"That depends," replied the Squire. "According to the old proverb, we
must catch him first before we cook him. He certainly shall not be let
off punishment if we do; you need not fear."
"I meant," replied Hal, "that I don't want him punished. I should fancy
that it would harden a boy. I would rather have him talked to."
"Be sure he would remember a good smarting far longer," rejoined his
grandfather; "and I should feel myself to blame if I neglected to let
him feel the consequence of his bad conduct. Such small beginnings are
as the seed-corn in the earth, which bringeth forth some thirtyfold,
some sixtyfold, and some an hundredfold. That is equally true of bad,
as of good seed. But now be off."
That night Hal went to bed with two sinners on his mind,—Farmer Bluff,
with his silver mug and his gout, and the youthful but unknown villain
who had murdered the old white goose and robbed her nest.
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