A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY
Next morning there was a great sensation in the village of Marshely, as
in some way the events of the previous night leaked out. Certainly, the
accounts of these were more or less garbled, and no one appeared to know
who was responsible for them. But this much of the truth became public
property, that Vand and the negro prince who had been stopping at "The
Chequers" were dead, that Mrs. Vand had fled to escape arrest, and that
the police were in possession of Bleacres. Later in the afternoon it
became known that Vand had killed Captain Huxham for the sake of certain
jewels.
But the villagers were greatly astonished when they heard--from what
source was not known--that another man had been killed. No one, save
Silas Pence, had seen Edwin Lister enter the Manor, and Pence himself
had presumed, until informed, that the man was Cyril, so no one knew
that any person was missing. Now it appeared that the man who was
murdered by Vand had committed a crime himself previous to his own
death. But what he had done with the body no one knew, and the police
could find no traces of the same in spite of all their efforts.
Inspector Inglis called at Miss Anker's cottage in the morning and
interviewed both Bella and her lover. From them he heard the whole tale,
and was greatly astonished by the recital. Under the circumstances he
was inclined to take the jewels into official custody, but Bella refused
to give them up; and undoubtedly they were her property left to her by
her father, Maxwell Faith. Inglis admitted this, so did not press the
point.
Afterwards the inspector examined Silas Pence, and heard from him much
the same story as he had told Bella. The preacher was lying on a bed of
sickness, as the blow on his head and the many worries he had been
through of late nearly gave him brain fever. Of course--and Inglis told
him as much--he should have reported at once the death of Huxham, as he
had seen the body. But as Pence had not beheld the blow struck, the
police could do nothing but admonish. Silas stated that in one point of
his story when he confessed to Bella he had been wrong, which was after
seeing Edwin Lister enter the Manor--or, as he thought then, Cyril--he
had rushed away in the direction of the common in the vain attempt to
rid himself of troublesome thoughts. When he returned Mr. and Mrs. Vand
were in the kitchen, as Luke proved; and Pence was thus enabled to enter
the house. Undoubtedly the guilty pair had left the front door open, so
that blame might be cast upon some outsider--on a possible burglar, for
instance. When they heard the noise of Pence's flight and found the
money gone, they were quite determined to place the blame on a robber.
Mrs. Vand confessed this later, although at the time of the robbery she
had not dreamed the burglar was the talented young preacher whom she so
greatly admired.
But the guilty woman was missing for some days. On inquiry being made it
appeared that the Romany girl, bribed by Mrs. Vand to assist her flight,
had made a cup of tea for the constable. As Dutton was wet and cold, he
drank the tea only too willingly, never suspecting that it was drugged.
But it turned out to be dosed with laudanum, and he fell into a deep
sleep. Granny Tunks, as she stated on reviving, had attempted to stay
the flight of Mrs. Vand and the Romany girl, but the latter had promptly
knocked her down with the very chunk of wood with which Mrs. Tunks had
struck the half-drowned woman. In this way Granny's sins came home to
her.
Inglis found, on the detail of the motor-car being reported by Cyril,
who had heard it from Mrs. Vand, that use had been made of the same. He
advertised for such a car in such a neighbourhood, and speedily was
called upon by a public chauffeur, who drove for hire. The man confessed
very frankly that Vand had engaged his car to wait for himself and his
wife on the high road to Pierside, and that thinking that nothing was
wrong he had done so. Vand had paid him well, and the driver merely
thought it was the eccentric whim of a rich man. Vand, it appeared, had
engaged the car in London from the stand in Trafalgar Square. When Mrs.
Vand left the hut the Romany girl had rowed her to the swamps in the
boat she had brought for the removal of Luke to the caravan, and the
woman had then crossed the marshy ground to the high road. Making some
excuse for the non-appearance of her husband, she had been driven to
London, and the driver, who had already received his money, dropped her
in Piccadilly. That, as he confessed, was the last he saw of her.
Inspector Inglis was very angry with the man, and pointed out that he
should have suspected that the couple were flying from justice from the
fact of the large sum of money paid, and on account of the strange place
where it was arranged that the car should wait. But the man exonerated
himself completely, and in the end he was permitted to go free, as the
police could not do anything. And after all the chauffeur, who did not
look particularly intelligent, might have acted in all good faith.
However the point was that Mrs. Vand, dropped in Piccadilly, had
vanished entirely. She had ample money, as it was proved that she had
drawn fifty pounds in gold from her bank, and although she had fled from
the hut with only the dripping dress she wore, there would be no
difficulty in her obtaining a fresh disguise. The police advertised in
the papers and with handbills, but nothing could be heard of the woman.
She had vanished as completely as though the earth had opened and
swallowed her.
Strangely enough, it was from Mrs. Vand's solicitor that the first news
came of her doings. Timson was the lawyer's name, and he came down to
Pierside to see Inspector Inglis. On being shown into the inspector's
office he broke out abruptly--
"Sir," said Timson, who was a mild-faced, spectacled, yellow-haired man,
"I have a communication to make to you about my respected client, Mrs.
Rosamund Vand, if you will hear it."
"Respectable, eh?" questioned the officer ironically. "Perhaps you don't
know, Mr.--Mr."--he referred to the card--"Mr. Timson, that your
respectable client is wanted for her complicity in the murder of her
brother?"
"Sir," said Mr. Timson again and firmly, "my client--my respected
client," he added with emphasis "assured me that she had nothing to do
with the commission of that crime. She was in a dead faint in the
kitchen when her husband, in a moment of passion, struck down Captain
Huxham."
"So she says because it is to her benefit to say so, Mr. Timson. But the
man who saw the murder committed swears that it was a most deliberate
affair, and was only done for the sake of certain jewels, which----"
"Deliberate or not, Mr. Inspector," interrupted the meek little man, "my
respected client had nothing to do with it. Afterwards she held her
tongue for the sake of her husband, for his sake also paid blackmail to
the man who saw the crime committed."
"We can argue that point," said Inglis drily, "when we see Mrs. Vand.
You are doubtless aware of her whereabouts?"
"No," said Timson coolly, "I am not."
"But you said you had seen her--after the murder was committed, I fancy
you hinted."
"I saw her," said Timson, quite calmly, "on the day following her flight
from the hut on the marshes. She alighted in Piccadilly and walked about
the streets for the rest of the night. Afterwards she went to a quiet
hotel and had a brush and a wash up. She then called on me--"
"And you did not detain her when you knew----"
"I knew nothing. Had I known that she was flying from justice I
certainly should have urged her to surrender. But the news of these
terrible doings in Marshely had not reached London; it was not in the
papers until the following day. You grant that?"
"Yes, yes! But----"
"No 'buts' at all, Mr. Inspector," said Timson, who seemed firm enough
in spite of his meek aspect. "My client confessed to me that her husband
had been drowned, and that he had murdered her brother in a fit of
passion because Captain Huxham intended to turn his sister out of doors
and alter his will on account of her secret marriage."
"That motive may have had some weight," said Inglis quietly, "but I
fancy the sight of the jewels made Vand murder his brother-in-law. Did
Mrs. Vand call to tell you this?"
"No!" snapped Timson, whose meekness was giving way. "She called to make
her will."
"Make her will--in whose favour?"
"I see no reason why I should not tell you," said the lawyer, "although
I never reveal professional secrets. But I will tell, so that you may
see how you have misjudged my client. She made a will in favour of Miss
Isabella Faith----"
"Faith? Ah! she knew, then, that the girl was not her niece."
"Yes. But she did not tell me that, nor did I inquire. All she did was
to make me, or, rather instruct me, to draw up a will leaving the
Bleacres property and the five hundred a year she inherited from the
late Captain Huxham, to Miss Faith, as some token of repentance for
having misjudged her. And now," cried Timson, rising wrathfully, "my
respected client is misjudged herself. I come to clear her character."
"I don't see how that will clears her character," said Inglis coolly,
"and from the mere fact that she made it I daresay she has committed
suicide."
"Impossible! Impossible!"
"I think it is very probable, indeed, Mr. Timson, Mrs. Vand cannot get
out of England, as all the ports and railway stations are watched, and
there is a full description of her appearance posted everywhere. Unless
she wants to get a long sentence for complicity in this most brutal
murder, she will have to commit suicide."
"I tell you she is innocent."
"Can you tell me that she is not an accomplice after the fact?"
"A wife is not bound to give evidence against her husband."
Inspector Inglis rose with a fatigued air. "I am not here to argue on
points of law with you, Mr. Timson. All I ask is, if you know where your
respected client is?" he laid a sneering emphasis on his last words.
"No, I do not," said Timson, taking up his hat, "and I bid you good
day."
What the lawyer said was evidently correct, for although his office and
himself were watched by the police, it could not be proved that he was
in communication with the missing woman. The whereabouts of Mrs. Vand
became more of a mystery than ever. Inglis told Bella of her good
fortune, but of course until Mrs. Vand was dead she could not benefit.
And there seemed to be no chance of proving the woman's death, even
though the inspector firmly held to the opinion that she had committed
suicide.
Meantime Timson went on to Marshely to look after his client's property,
and seeing that the corn was ripe, he arranged with a number of
labourers, under an overseer whom he could trust, that it should be
reaped immediately. Thus it happened that four days after Mrs. Vand's
disappearance, when Cyril came to tell Bella about the inquest, she was
able to inform him that the Solitary Farm lands were about to be reaped.
"And we might go there in the evening to look," said Bella.
"My dear, I should think that the Manor was hateful to you."
"Well, it is. Even if I do inherit it from Mrs. Vand, I can never live
there, Cyril. But I want you to come with me this evening, as I have a
kind of idea that the body of Mrs. Vand"--she grew pale and
shuddered--"may be found amidst the corn."
Cyril started back, astonished. "My dear girl, you must be mad!"
"No, I am not, Cyril. Think of how she is being hunted, and how her
person is described everywhere, while all the ports and stations are
watched. I believe that she, poor woman! went to see her lawyer, so as
to prove her sorrow for having misjudged me, by making me her heiress,
and that she then returned to die amidst the corn."
"Do you think she is dead there?"
"Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Granny Tunks is still in the hut, and she is
very avaricious. Mrs. Vand had money. She may have bribed Granny to
bring her food while she lay hid among the corn."
"But such a hiding-place!" said Lister, who nevertheless was much struck
with what Bella was saying.
"A very good one and a place where no one would think of looking. Think
how thick the corn is growing! No one ever enters it, and that scarlet
coated scarecrow stands sentinel over it. Believe me, Cyril, Mrs. Vand
has been hiding there. I wish you to come with me this evening. They
have started to reap the corn by order of Mr. Timson. If Mrs. Vand is
there, she will in the end be discovered. Let us find her, and save her,
and get her out of the kingdom."
"That will bring us within reach of the law."
"I don't care," said Bella, quite recklessly; "after all, she had
nothing to do with the crime, and only kept silent to shield her
husband. I want to help the poor thing, and you must aid me to do so."
"But Bella, she never liked you."
"What has that got to do with it?" cried the girl passionately. "Our
natures did not suit one another, and perhaps I behaved rather harshly
towards her. She meant well. And remember, Cyril, she has made amends by
leaving me all that would have been mine had I really been Captain
Huxham's daughter."
Cyril nodded. "I admit that she has done her best to repent," he said
after a pause, "and we should not judge her too harshly. I'll come."
"And help her to escape?"
"Yes. It won't be easy; but I'll do my best."
"That's my own dear boy," said the girl, kissing him, "and now what
about the inquest?"
"A verdict of death by drowning has been brought in," said Cyril
quickly. "I think if we can get Mrs. Vand away, everything concerning
the Huxham mystery will be at an end."
"They won't put the whole story in the papers, Cyril?"
"No. Inglis will edit all that is to be given to the reporters and
journalists. He will say as little as possible about the matter. It is
known that Huxham was murdered by Vand, and in the absence of my
father's body no cognisance can be taken of that alleged murder."
"Don't you believe that your father has been murdered?"
"I don't know; I can't tell. Tunks says so, and I don't suppose he would
tell such a story against himself unless it were true. But no body has
been found, and until the body of the missing man is found, it is
presumed in law that he is alive. But"--Cyril shrugged his
shoulders--"who can tell the truth?"
"It will be made manifest in time," said Bella firmly; "your father, or
your father's body, will be found. Where are Durgo and Henry to be
buried?"
"In Marshely churchyard to-morrow. I shall go to the funeral. I am sorry
for Durgo. In spite of his skin he was a real white man. And when he is
under the earth, Bella, I think we had better sell the jewels and marry,
and take a trip round the world in order to forget all this terrible
business. I am quite glad it is over."
"It is not over yet," insisted Bella, "your father has to be found, and
Mrs. Vand must be discovered."
"Or their bodies," said Cyril significantly, and turned away.
It must not be thought that young Lister was callous. His father had
never been one to him, and, moreover, his son had seen so little of him,
that he was as strange to the young man as he had been to the boy. Cyril
deeply regretted the gulf that was between them, as he was of a truly
affectionate nature, but his father always had repelled the least sign
of tenderness. He only looked on Cyril as one to be made use of, and
borrowed from him on every occasion. Had he succeeded in getting the
jewels and had aided Durgo to regain his chiefdom, he would have
remained in Nigeria as a kind of savage prime minister, without casting
a thought to his son. And whether his father was dead or alive, Cyril
knew that he would have to repay the one thousand pounds which he had
borrowed to cover his father's delinquency in respect of the forged
cheque. How could such a son as Cyril Lister respect or love such a
parent as Edwin of the same name?
Nevertheless, Cyril, although he said little to Bella, was very anxious
to ascertain the fate of his father. It seemed very certain that Tunks
had seen him murdered by the evil-hearted old sailor, but what that
scoundrel had done with the body could not be discovered. In vain the
police dug in the cellars of the Manor-house, tapped the walls, ripped
up the floors, and dragged the boundary channel. The body of Edwin
Lister could not be found, and as no one had seen him save Tunks, and
Pence, and Bella, who had all mistaken him for Cyril, the police began
to believe that Edwin, the father, was a myth. And Cyril could not make
Inglis see otherwise for all his urging and confession.
"If the man is alive, why doesn't he turn up?" asked Inglis; "and if
dead, why can't we find his body?"
There was no answer to this, and Cyril gave up his father's fate as a
riddle, when he walked in the cool of the evening towards the Solitary
Farm. The immediate object of his visit was to find if Mrs. Vand, dead
or alive, was concealed in the thickly standing corn. Bella strolled by
his side. But the lovers had taken no one into this particular
confidence, not even Dora, and walked towards the well-known house, and
up the corn-path, anxiously looking right and left. Then Cyril uttered
an exclamation of annoyance. "What a bother!" he said, much vexed: "see,
Bella, there are labourers still reaping--yonder, near the scarecrow."
"I suppose Mr. Timson wants the fields reaped quickly," said Bella, also
much vexed. "I thought everyone would have been gone by this time. We
must wait until the labourers depart, Cyril. It will never do to find
Mrs. Vand while they are about. They would tell the police, and she
would be arrested. That would be dangerous!"
"So it will be--if she is alive," said the young man, who was very
doubtful on this point himself.
The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the fields of golden grain. The
old house seemed to be buried in a treasure meadow. All round rolled the
radiant waves, and the scarlet-coated scarecrow's task was nearly done.
The corn was ripe for the harvest, and soon the acres of the Solitary
Farm would consist of nothing but stubble.
As the lovers drew near the house, they saw a labourer approach the
scarecrow. The corn had been reaped for some distance all round it, and
now a man had cut a path direct to it in order to pull it down. Its task
was over, and it was no longer needed to keep off the birds. Suddenly
the man laid his hand on the quaint figure, which had been so familiar
to every one for months, and uttered a loud cry of astonishment. Cyril
saw him beckoning to other labourers, and shortly there was a crowd
round the scarlet coat.
"What is the matter?" asked Bella, and the lovers hurried to join the
group.
One of the labourers heard the question, and turned excitedly. "Master!
Missus!" he said, in horrified tone, "it's a corpse."
He pulled the tattered gray felt hat from the scarecrow, and Cyril
recoiled with a loud cry of surprise. "Bella! Bella!"
"What is it? what is it?" she said, startled by the discovery.
"It is my father. It is Edwin Lister."
All present knew of the tragedy, and of the hunt made for Edwin Lister.
And now the missing man had been discovered. One of the labourers,
mindful of public house gossip, touched the drooping neck of the figure,
and shuddered. "Take missy away," he said softly to Cyril, and with a
grey face, "this ain't no sight for her. His throat has been cut."
But it was not the man who led the girl away. Bella saw the labourer's
face, guessed, with a shudder, what he had said, and, catching Cyril's
arm, dragged him away from that awful spot. The young fellow, with a
blanched face and tottering limbs, stumbled blindly along as she pulled
him forward. In all his expectations, he had never counted upon such a
terrible dramatic discovery as this. His father, the missing man, the
murdered man, who had been hunted for alive and dead for many weeks, had
been used by Captain Huxham as a scarecrow to frighten the birds. No
wonder they had kept away from those sinister fields.
"Oh, great God!" moaned Cyril, sick and faint, "let this be the end."