"THOU ART THE MAN"
The two men looked at the ear-ring, Slade with triumph, Johnson with
dismay. There was no doubt it belonged to Miss Arnott. He had
frequently seen her wearing it; and he asked himself how it came to be
found on the spot where the body had lain. Miss Arnott's declaration
that Tera had wrenched the ear-ring from her ear, and had carried it
away, might be a mere fiction. Carried away as she was by her
feelings, it was impossible to rely upon what she said. If her
statement were untrue, the discovery of the ornament on the scene of
the crime went to show that Miss Arnott had been on the spot, and
there, perhaps during a struggle with her victim, had lost the
ear-ring. In a word, this piece of evidence inculpated her somewhat
seriously. Remembering her agitation and strange remarks, Johnson
began to think that she had committed the murder out of jealousy. It
was very feasible. The more he thought of it the more likely it
seemed. But the minister determined to keep his suspicions to himself.
It was not for him, on whose account she had sinned--if she had
sinned--to denounce her. It was for his sake she had broken that
terrible sixth commandment. Therefore he judged it right, if not
righteous, to deny all knowledge of the ornament.
"Have you seen this before, sir?" asked Slade, keeping a watchful eye
on the face of the minister.
"No," answered Johnson, with an effort to appear calm, "I never saw it
before. It does not belong to Bithiah. She wore no ornaments in her
ears."
"Then it must be the property of some other woman--probably the woman
who killed her, Mr. Johnson."
"How do you know a woman killed her?"
"This ear-ring points that way, anyhow. I expect the two women met and
quarrelled about something or some one. Perhaps they came to blows; or
perhaps, while the murderess was trying to strangle your girl, she had
this torn from her ear. But it's evident that a woman's mixed up in
the matter." Slade paused and looked again at the ornament. "It's a
gipsy ear-ring," said he.
"How do you know, Slade?"
The policeman scratched his head in some embarrassment. "A flat circle
of gold it is, ain't it? Well, sir, I've seen a gipsy woman wearing
things of this sort."
"Zara Lovell, for instance?" observed Johnson, with sudden
inspiration.
"Zara Lovell!" stammered Slade, retreating a step and looking anything
but comfortable. "What do you know of her, Mr. Johnson?"
"Only so much as I learned from Lee."
"Lee! Pharaoh Lee, the gipsy? Have you seen him?"
"I was speaking with him a quarter of an hour before I met you, Slade.
He is looking for Zara."
"Is she lost, then?"
"It would seem so. Pharaoh was to have married her; but she told him
that she was already married to some one in this neighbourhood. Then
she ran away from the gipsy camp. Thinking she came on here to her
husband--whoever he is--Lee followed, and he is now looking for her.
Slade," said Johnson, gravely, "the gipsy declared that either you or
Mr. Mayne must be the husband of this girl."
Slade changed from red to white, and evaded the minister's eye. "I
knew Zara well enough a year ago," he said, doggedly, "and we had a
liking for one another; but as to marriage, that never came into my
mind. I have a wife now--the only one I ever had--and if she hears
this tale, Lord knows what she'll do. She's never done talking of Zara
as it is."
"Well, and Mr. Mayne?"
"Oh, he liked Zara too; but I don't think he intended to marry her.
Why, he's set on marryin' Miss Carwell."
"Who else is there, that you know the girl was intimate with?"
The policeman reflectively slipped the ear-ring into his pocket, and
began to think. Suddenly he started and slapped his thigh. "Why didn't
I think of him before?" he cried. "Finland--it's Finland, of course."
"Nonsense!" said the minister, somewhat sharply, for the mention of
the sailor made him wince. "Finland was in love with Bithiah and--What
is the matter?"
He asked this question with some astonishment, for Slade, with uncouth
glee, was performing a kind of war-dance. "Lord!" he said, joyfully,
"how plain it all is!"
"How plain what is?"
"The murder, of course. It was a woman killed Bithiah, or Tera, or
whatever you call her. That's pretty conclusive. Well, the woman was
Zara."
"What! the gipsy girl Pharaoh is looking for?"
"Oh, he's looking for her," said Slade, gleefully, "but he won't find
her. She's made herself scarce because of this murder. This ear-ring is
Zara's. I know now, Mr. Johnson; I saw a pair of 'em in her ears.
Finland made love to Zara last year, and she was dead gone on him. I
expect she heard of his goings on with your girl, and came back to
make things hot. I don't know if Finland married her, but if he did,
Zara hurried back here to claim him as her husband. I dare say she met
Tera here in this field, and they fought over the man. Tera tore the
ear-ring from Zara while she was being strangled. Then Zara hid the
body in this field, and ran away. It's as clear as day," and Slade
danced again; "I'll get to Poldew, sure enough!"
Knowing well to whom the ear-ring belonged, the minister could not
believe in Zara's guilt. But without compromising Miss Arnott, Slade's
theory was not to be demolished. The best he could do was to protest
against it as being too fanciful.
"Why, you have more reason to suspect me," he declared.
"True enough," replied Slade, "but circumstanshal evidence ain't good
stuff--though I admit I'm going on it a lot in suspecting Zara."
"The poor girl was strangled with my window----"
"I know all about that," interrupted the policeman. "I soon found that
out. But it don't prove as you took the cord yourself. I always had my
doubts, seeing it was taken two or three days afore the murder. You
wouldn't have made ready all that time. I says to myself, 'If he
killed the girl, he did it in a rage, so he wouldn't have prepared the
cord beforehand.'"
"I did not kill Tera," protested Johnson, vehemently. "I never saw her
after she left my house, although I searched for her round this field,
knowing it was her favourite walk. I loved her too well to injure a
hair of her head. As to my debts--and you suspected, no doubt, that it
was to pay them I killed her--they have been discharged."
"Who paid 'em?"
"There is no harm in telling you that, Slade. But promise me to keep
what I tell you a secret until I bid you speak."
Filled with curiosity, Slade gave the required promise. When informed
that Miss Arnott was Johnson's benefactor, he chuckled so
significantly as to bring a blush to the pale cheeks of the minister.
Nevertheless--and this was the main point--he entertained no suspicion
against the woman; and still harped on the probability of Zara's
guilt. "For she might have stolen the cord from your study," said he,
eagerly; "them gipsies are always stealing things."
"Zara was never in my house that I know of," replied Johnson, dryly.
This declaration rather disconcerted Slade, but he rallied under the
blow when a new idea struck him.
"I dare say that Tera herself took the cord, being a bright pretty
thing."
"Why should she?"
"Why shouldn't she?" retorted Slade; "it's as broad as it's long. Talk
as you like, sir, it's in my mind as Zara killed Tera and stole them
pearls."
Johnson reflected. This last remark set him thinking as to the
advisability of telling Slade about Shackel's proposed blackmail. The
man seemed intelligent and trustworthy, and an ally would be
invaluable, if only to protect him from the machinations of Captain
Jacob. Forthwith, Johnson related to Slade the dilemma in which he was
placed, and asked for the policeman's advice and help. "For I swear,"
said he, with all earnestness, "that while in London I did not go near
Hatton Gardens. But how am I to prove that?"
"'Tain't difficult," answered Slade; "you give me a couple of pounds
and let me go up to London. I'll find out from the Jew who sold them
pearls."
"Can you get leave?" asked Johnson, catching at the idea.
"Oh yes, for a couple of days or thereabouts."
"Then you go, and hard-up as I am, you shall have five pounds for your
expenses and trouble. But who did you think sold the pearls? It could
not have been Zara, seeing that the seller was a man."
"I'll tell you what I think when I come back," said Slade, doubtfully.
"Let us go to your house, sir, and get the money. If that captain
comes again to you, just tell him as the matter is in the hands of the
police; you won't have no trouble with him after that, I'll bet."
Subsequent events proved Slade to be correct. Johnson gave him the
five pounds, and, having obtained leave for forty-eight hours, the man
took train to London with the address of the Jew in his pocket. The
day after his departure Shackel made his appearance, in the full
belief that Johnson would pay him the sum he had demanded. When the
minister referred him to the police, Captain Jacob was considerably
taken aback by his victim's daring. He protested loudly.
"Told the police, have yer?" he snarled; "well, I guess I don't want
any of that kind messing up my business. You'd better straighten out
things, my son, and pay me."
"I shall not pay you one penny," answered Johnson, gaining courage at
the man's manifest desire to retreat. "The matter lies with the police
now. If you trouble me any more, I shall give you in charge."
Captain Jacob's one eye twinkled in a very evil fashion, and he grew
as red as his jaundiced complexion would permit. "You'll jail me, will
yer?" he piped shrilly; "I reckon two can play at that game, you
scare-crow, psalm-singing, bun-faced----"
"Another word of that sort, and out you go!" said the minister, with
spirit.
But Shackel was not to be silenced. Like all sea captains, he was
accustomed to implicit obedience, and thought to get his own way by
the adoption of a bullying tone. But Johnson was not one of his
sailors, and moreover the vituperative insolence of the little
scoundrel had roused him. So when Captain Jacob still proceeded to
hector, the minister picked him up--he was of no great weight--and,
carrying him out of the window, dropped him over the gate.
"There, you foul-mouthed extortioner," said Johnson, loudly, "that is
your place! Come back here again, and I'll hand you over to the
police."
"By thunder, I'll see the police myself!" replied Shackel, dusting his
clothes. "You'll be in jail afore to-night, my son. Ay! and I'll come
and see ye dance on nothing with a hempen cravat round your darned
neck. I----"
Johnson waited to hear no more, but retired into his house, and left
the mariner cursing the empty air until he grew weary and took himself
off. The minister quite expected that the spiteful little creature
would denounce him to the police as the seller of the pearls, and he
was prepared to be arrested at any hour. But either Shackel was not
very sure of his ground, or was afraid to come himself in contact with
the law, of which he had a holy horror. He skulked back to the
schooner without fulfilling his threats, and so far as he was
concerned Johnson remained in peace. The blow was not to come from
Shackel.
That same evening, Johnson, in his character of pastor, attended at
Bethgamul. It was the weekly gathering, when the members of the
congregation met to converse together, and to receive admonition and
advice, as circumstances demanded. On this occasion, every member in
Grimleigh was in attendance, in obedience to a fiat from the elders.
It was known that Johnson was suspected of being concerned, either
directly or indirectly, in the tragedy which had so recently happened
amongst them, and the congregation expected that at this meeting he
would attempt to exonerate himself. Johnson knew the position in which
he stood, and what was required of him; but he entered the chapel
resolved to let things take their course. If compelled to defend
himself he would speak; but he was determined not to state his case
voluntarily. There were details in connection with Miss Arnott which
he certainly had no wish to make public.
Miss Arnott herself was present, looking haggard and nervous. She felt
keenly the position in which she stood towards Johnson. But at the
present moment she did not see how to improve it. She had come to the
meeting for guidance and comfort. Farmer Carwell, his daughter, and
Mayne, arrived together, ready for an exciting evening. Indeed, on
their entry into the chapel they were definitely promised one by
Brand, who met them at the door.
"Our pastor has not yet arrived," whispered Korah in his deep voice,
"but I have sent for him, and he will be here very soon. Then I shall
invite him to confess."
"He is not compelled to do that," observed Rachel, who still held that
in the absence of proof the minister was innocent.
"He is compelled so far," responded Brand, "that if he cannot clear
his character, we shall depose him from his office. He shall have
sorrow and wrath with his sickness."
"If he owns that he killed Tera, shall you have him arrested?" asked
Mayne.
"No, no; that will never do," interposed Carwell, with a frown. "We
must not bring disgrace on Bethgamul by our own act. If the man is
guilty, let him fly hence and repent of his sins."
"He will not fly, although I have urged him," groaned Korah.
"In that case it would seem he is innocent," said Rachel. "But here he
comes, poor man; how ill he looks!"
"'He cometh in with vanity,'" quoted Brand, "'and his name shall be
covered with darkness.'"
"That has yet to be proved," said Herbert. His defence of the minister
drew an approving smile from Rachel.
Johnson did indeed look ill. As he stood on the rostrum under the
yellow glare of the oil lamp, he gazed down on the stern faces of his
people. Every countenance was set like a flint; even those of the
women were harder and more unsympathetic than usual, and he felt that
in their hearts they already condemned him. But the sight of his old
mother weeping quietly in the corner brought him comfort. If no one
else believed in his innocence, she did.
"Brother Johnson," said Brand, rising as the minister opened the
Bible, "before you speak from the sacred volume, we would know if you
are worthy to do so. Are your lips undefiled? Is your heart clean
within you?"
"Yes," replied the minister, calmly. "I am conscious of no sin."
"It is 'whispered in Gath and told along the streets of Ascalon' that
you have the stain of blood on your hands. The blood of the innocent
cries out for judgment against you."
"Who dares to say such a thing, Brother Korah?"
"I do--unworthy as I am." Brand stretched out his arm. "Brother
Johnson, you are a pastor of the Lord's sheep, and He committed a lamb
to your charge. That lamb is slain, and it is cried aloud that you are
the slayer. In the tents of Israel it is spoken. Your carnal love
drove Bithiah of Koiau from your dwelling, and in her footsteps you
followed to smite and slay her for the love of gold. As Nathan the
prophet stood before David, so I stand before you; as Nathan the
prophet said unto the king, so say I unto you: 'Thou art the man.'"