"And what hedge?" I asked.
"He'll shoot you," said Owlet, "and when you go for your walk, you won't
come back. And he'll have his alibi all right and never be suspected, for
that matter. He means to get you from the woodstack and be gone like a
flash of lightning. I got it out of him by pretending that nothing would
suit me better than your death; and I'm telling you, so as you shall
either be the hunter instead of the hunted, if you're brave enough for
such a job, or else give him up to justice instanter on my word. He's got
a army revolver and that he'll use if you don't take the first step
yourself."
I looked at Joshua and felt a lot puzzled about his yarn. Fear I did not
feel, because them that was in the War know it not in peace. But for a
moment my mind was took off Bond by Owlet himself, and I couldn't somehow
feel his story had the ring of truth about it. In fact I told him so, and
he swore a barrow-load of oaths that it was only too true.
"I've told you," he said, "and I've worked for you in this matter, Morris,
and hid myself and hoodwinked the wily devil till he believed I was with
him heart and soul. But if you don't believe me I can do nought. All I say
is that the man is well aware how only you stand between him and Jenny,
and he'll do you in next Wednesday so sure as you're born, if you don't
watch out."
"Never heard anything so interesting, Joshua," I said, "but whether I
believe you or not, I can't be sure. However, fear nought. If I could get
through the War, I ain't likely to go down afore this damned rogue. And
forewarned is forearmed. I'll keep my weather eye lifting on Wednesday, be
sure of that much."
"Have you got a revolver?" he asked.
"I've got my old war revolver," I said, "and it will be in my pocket when
I go out for my health."
"I hope your health won't suffer, then," he told me.
I left him after that and went home. Jenny was friendly enough and Tom
Bond was so meek and mild that butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth.
So the time passed till Wednesday and the footman was off for his
afternoon out; and at my usual hour, forbidding Jenny to seek me that
afternoon, I went my way. We were quiet for the minute with a week between
guns at Oakshotts. A still evening with the reds in the sky and frost
promising. My thoughts were difficult, because the more I turned over what
Owlet had told me, the more mad it sounded; but I couldn't get any line on
Bond and I couldn't get any line on Jenny, though I had a fancy she was
pretty miserable and inclining a bit more towards me. For that walk,
however, I concentrated on self-preservation, because if the man really
thought to slay me, 'twas up to me to get in first, of course. So I went
mighty wary when I came to the trees, and being blessed with amazing good
long sight, used it. And I also pricked my ears and had my gun in my
pocket and my hand upon it. A shot I heard, but it was dull and far off
and didn't sound no ways different from the usual shots you always heard
in Oakshotts. Then, after going without any event for half a mile or more,
I saw the woodstack ahead on my way, and that minded me of Owlet's warning
and the chance it might be true. A very handy place for any man to lie in
wait for an enemy on the woodman's path; so I stopped, crept off into the
undergrowth and reckoned to come up behind the stack, so as if there was
to be any surprises, I'd give 'em. But the surprise was mine
notwithstanding. I stalked the stack as cautious as though it had been an
elephant, and crept up inch by inch through the laurels with my blood warm
and my senses very much alive and my revolver at full cock. And at last I
was parted from the danger-point by no more than a screen of leaves. But
not a soul I saw, and I was just pushing out with a good bit of relief in
my mind, when my eyes fell on the ground and I marked a man lying so still
as a snake behind the pile with his head not a yard from the path that ran
alongside of it! He was waiting and watching; but he'd not heard me; so
there lay Tom Bond sure enough, looking for me to come along; and there
stood I behind him not ten yards distant. The dusk was coming down by now
and the wind sighing in the naked branches overhead, and I didn't see no
use in wasting time. I couldn't have wished to get him in a more awkward
position for himself; so I covered him with my revolver and I stepped out
quick as lightning, and afore he could move, my muzzle was at his ear.
"Now, you damned scoundrel," I said, "the boot is on the other leg, I
reckon!"
But not a muscle of the man twitched, and then I got the horror of my
life, for Tom Bond was dead. He lay flat on his face with his hands
stretched afore him, and a revolver, the daps of mine, had fallen from his
hand and dropped a foot away from it. And, looking close, I saw a big
dabble of blood about him, that had come from his body and his mouth.
'Twas a very ugly situation for me, and nobody saw that quicker than what
I did; but I kept my nerve and didn't lift a finger to the man after I was
satisfied that not a spark of life remained in him. I said to myself as I
ran home that all I could do was to tell naked truth and hope for the
best, though at that moment I couldn't fail to see the truth as I told it
was bound to look a thought fanciful to the unbiased eye. But I went
straight to Sir Walter, and gave him word for word, leaving out no item of
the story and putting my revolver on his desk for him to guard after he'd
heard all.
He was a lot shocked, of course, and awful sorry to lose Tom Bond; but he
believed every word I told him and knew the facts must be exactly as I
revealed 'em. Then he sent post-haste for the police and a doctor, and I
took 'em to the scene, and men fetched a hurdle and the body of Bond was
brought down to the garage and treated with all due respect. The doctor
examined him then and found he'd been shot through the back at tolerable
close range; and the ball had gone through heart and lung and killed him
instantly. 'Twas dark by now, and Dr. James said as how he'd be back with
another surgeon next morning. But one mighty strange thing increased my
difficulties, because, when we came to hunt for it, the weapon I marked a
foot from the dead man's hand was there no longer. And that meant two
things. It meant, to me, that somebody had been beside Bond after I left
him; and it meant to the police a tidy big question as to whether my word
could be depended upon. Nought was done until the next day and then the
inquest was arranged for and a police inspector spent a long time in my
company and finished by telling me straight that I was in a tolerable
tight place. We knew each other as friends in Little Silver, but the
inspector--Bassett he was called--felt terrible disposed to arrest me, and
only when Sir Walter went bail I wouldn't run away did he abstain from
getting a warrant.
To Joshua Owlet, of course, they went; but there a shocking thing
happened, for the man swore I was lying and that he knew nought about the
affair and that he had never warned me nor nothing like that. He said how
Bond had come to him with his tale about loving Jenny, and he'd only told
him same as he'd told me, that Jenny's duty would lie with her father and
he didn't wish her to marry anybody. So it looked as if the only one who
knew the truth must be the dead man, and he was gone beyond recall. They
found he'd been shot by an army revolver with a ball of the usual pattern,
and more they didn't know; and when Sir Walter pointed out that my
revolver was loaded in all chambers and hadn't been fired, all the police
said was I'd had plenty of time to fire it and clean it and load it again
afore I gave it to him.
And the next thing that happened to me was that I was locked up, tried
afore the justices and committed for trial at the Assizes for the murder
of Tom Bond.
Of course nobody who knew me believed such a fearful thing, but seeing how
it stood and how the details looked to the public, I didn't blame any for
doubting except Joshua Owlet; and even in my nasty fix I couldn't but
admire the devilish craft of that man. Of course I knew from the first
he'd done the trick; and more I knew, because I'd seen his far-reaching
reasons and his cunning, to use Bond against me and so plot that we should
wipe out each other and leave Jenny free. I could see it all; and when Sir
Walter had one of the big swells from Scotland Yard to investigate the
murder from the beginning, and when that man heard all I'd got to say, he
saw it too.
A mean little build of chap, but properly bursting with intellect, was
Detective-Inspector Bates; and after hearing Sir Walter and after hearing
me, he never felt no doubt himself about my innocence.
"'Tis like this," I said. "You can see what Owlet did. He told me Bond
meant to take my life; and no doubt he told Bond I meant to take his life;
and the difference was this; Bond did mean to shoot me that afternoon,
doubtless believing that if he didn't, I'd be the death of him later. He
could get me when he liked. But I never meant to do more than prove he was
a rascal, or satisfy myself that he was not. For the rest, and as to
details, only Owlet can tell 'em; but it's very clear to me he did what
they say I did. He knew where Bond was going to lie for me, and he was
there hid afore Bond came and slew him and left him so as it should be
shown, as it has been shown, that I slew him. Very like he watched the
whole thing and was hid at my elbow somewhere when I found Bond; and then,
after I'd gone, he got Bond's revolver and took it away so as I should be
catched in a lie and prove the only one that was armed. And more than
that: he may have lent Bond the revolver himself."
I think the Detective-Inspector felt very pleased with my view; and there
was another good point for me, because, afore they buried him, they took
the dead man's fingerprints and found he'd been in prison before. In fact
he was a bad 'un--a juvenile adult that had served two years for three
burglaries; and so Owlet had told me a bit of truth mixed up with his
lies. But of course poor Bond might have meant to run straight after he
fell in love with Jenny, till Owlet tackled him and encouraged him to try
and murder me. Nobody will ever know what his game at Oakshotts was, for
he died before he'd played it. Anyway, he was gone, and all that mattered
to me remained to get my neck out of the noose if it could be done.
And it was done, though more by the act of God than any particular
cleverness of man. But, primed with what I'd told him, Mr. Bates got up
Owlet's sleeve and, little by little, wormed out the truth. And Owlet,
who'd been on the razor edge over the job for a good bit with a mind
tottering, lost his nerve at last and gave himself away. He'd got in some
queer fashion to believe Bates was his friend and on his side, for these
deep detective chaps have a way often to show friendship to them they most
suspect; and so it happened; for Joshua let it out at last, finding the
other knew very near as much about it as he did. And then the darbies were
on him, and soon after they were off me.
He'd done it with a madman's cleverness, to free his girl and get her
back; and he went to a criminal lunatic asylum for his bit of work and
bides there yet. And as for Jenny, I left the rest to her and didn't lift
a finger to draw her to me no more. She came, however, and felt the Lord
had saved not only me alive, but her also.
For three year we worked at Oakshotts after that, as man and wife; and
then I took my pension and went into Little Silver to live. Because Sir
Walter got it into his head to marry again before it was too late, and his
new lady never liked me so well as he did. He'd applauded me far too much
to her, and 'tis always a fatal fact in human nature, that if you hear a
fellow-creature praised up to the sky, your mind takes an instant set
against 'em.