THE TABLES TURNED
The agony of mind that Jasper suffered in leaving his cabin and meeting
the people of Creekdale on their return from old David's funeral was
only a part of the trial he endured on his journey to the county jail.
On the wharf, while waiting for the arrival of the steamer, he was
subjected to the pitiless stares and gibes of men, women and children.
News of the arrest had spread from house to house, and people had
flocked to the wharf to have a last look upon the suspected man.
Jasper stood with his face to the river watching the steamer off in the
distance, which was rapidly approaching. The actions of the crowd
disgusted him. There was not one friendly voice lifted up on his
behalf. Jim Goban strutted up and down keeping close watch upon his
prisoner, and gloating over his task. He was having his revenge now
for the blows he had received on the day of David's release.
When once on the steamer Jasper believed that he would be free from all
curious eyes. In this, however, he was mistaken. There were many on
board and all soon learned that the "terrible murderer" was in their
midst. Jasper was kept down below near the engine room and it was
remarkable how most of the people on that boat found it necessary to
pass him quite often. He could hear some of their comments as they
moved away.
"What a bad face he has," a woman remarked.
"Yes," her companion replied, "he surely does look like a desperate
character. Wasn't it awful for him to kill that poor old man?"
Jasper's face was really hard and stern; how could it have been
otherwise? Where was all their Christian charity? he asked himself.
Where was the spirit of justice? Those people knew that he had not yet
received a fair trial, and why were they so willing and eager to
believe him guilty?
Old Simon Squabbles was on board, and though he said nothing to Jasper,
he expressed his views to several men a short distance away.
"It's nothin' more than I expected," he boasted. "I knew he would soon
reach the end of his tether after the experience I had with him. I had
him workin' fer me, an' when I wouldn't pay him fer loafin' in the
potato patch, he got as mad as blazes an' said things I wouldn't like
to repeat."
Jasper endured such remarks without a word. He did not feel like
making any reply. In fact, he realised how useless it would be, and
the less said the better.
The limit of his bitterness was reached when a woman approached and
began to speak to him about his soul, and the danger of hell fire. She
dilated glibly upon the awfulness of sin, and even offered to pray for
him.
"Keep your prayers for yourself," Jasper retorted, stung almost to fury
by her impudence. "You'll do more good if you pray for these
snivelling hypocrites," and he motioned to those standing around him.
"Isn't it awful!" and the woman held up her hands in horror. "You
should be afraid to speak that way, and you in such danger. Read this,
poor man," and she held forth a tract she had been holding in her hand.
Jasper glanced at it and read the heading, "Flee from Hell Fire." He
took it, and then crushing it in his hand, threw it from him.
"I've had enough of this," he cried, "and I'll stand no more. Leave me
alone, is all I ask. Hell can be no worse than what you people are
dealing out to me now."
Jasper's look and attitude caused those near him to shrink back, and
during the rest of the voyage he had peace from the clatter of tongues,
at least.
It was a great relief to him when at last he was lodged in the cell of
the county jail. Here he was alone and free from all curious eyes, and
he had time and quietness for thought. His heart was nevertheless
heavy as he sat there in his solitude. He brooded over all that had
taken place, and the one and only ray of brightness which came to him
in his misery was the thought of Lois and the vision of her standing
where he last saw her with such deep sympathy expressed in her eyes.
The following day Mr. Westcote's lawyer came to see him, and they had a
long talk together. Dr. Turnsell was greatly impressed by Jasper and
the straightforward manner in which he told about his visit to David
the night of the murder.
"We shall do the best we can for you," the lawyer informed him as he
bade him good-bye. "We have tried to get you out on bail, but so far
have been unsuccessful."
This visit somewhat encouraged Jasper. He knew that able men were
working for him and that Mr. Westcote would spare no money on his
behalf. As he sat there in his cell he thought over his past life and
of the many struggles he had made to succeed. He brooded over the
injustice he had received from so many simply because he was poor and
forced to fight his own battles against almost overwhelming odds. "And
is this the end?" he asked himself. "Will all my efforts amount to
nothing?" He thought of several of his college companions, sons of
rich men, who knew not what it was to fight in order to win their way,
and who were now occupying important positions in life. He knew what
they would say about him now. "Poor Spuds," would be their laconic
comment. "He was always an odd one, anyway." Yes, that was the way
they would talk, and then dismiss him from their minds.
The afternoon slowly passed, and after a while he rose and paced up and
down his small room. He looked through the barred window and saw the
clouds sweeping across the "long savannahs of the blue." How precious
freedom seemed to him, and he longed to be once more in the open. He
thought of Lois, and wondered if she were thinking of him. Perhaps she
was out on the river in her little boat watching those same clouds.
There would be no one near now to rescue her should the water get rough.
Jasper was interrupted in his reverie by the entrance of the jailor.
He carried a letter in his hand, which he gave to the prisoner, and
then retired and bolted the door.
Jasper glanced at the writing and his heart gave a great bound as he at
once recognised Lois' handwriting. Quickly he tore open the envelope
and drew forth the letter.
"Dear Mr. Randall," it began, "I am sending you this little note to
remind you that all your friends have not forgotten you, and that we
are doing what we can on your behalf. Keep up courage. I am very
hopeful now and feel sure that everything will turn out right. I know
you are innocent, and am confident that you will soon be free.
Good-bye.
"Yours in haste,
"Lois Sinclair."
Next to Lois herself nothing could have been more welcome to Jasper
than that letter. He pressed it fervently to his lips, and read it
over and over again. It brought a great comfort to his burdened heart.
He was sure now that Lois was thinking of him and doing what she could
for his release. He wondered what she had discovered, and mused much
upon the words "I am very hopeful now."
Jasper slept well that night and awoke in the morning greatly
refreshed. He wondered what the day would bring forth, and as he paced
up and down his room in order to get a little exercise, he squared back
his shoulders and held his head high. He felt fit and ready for battle
and longed for activity of some kind. As the morning hours wore slowly
away he became restless and impatient. The silence of his room was
affecting his nerves, and he thought with a shudder of men who were
condemned for life to solitary confinement. What more horrible
punishment could be meted out to any man? He was sure that he would go
mad in a few days.
Jasper could eat but little of the meagre dinner the jailor brought
him. He was hoping that there would be a letter or some message for
him, and when there was none he felt sadly disappointed. How long
would it be before he had any word from the lawyer? he wondered.
He was brooding at the table when the door again opened and to his
great joy and surprise Mr. Westcote entered. Jasper sprang to his feet
and seized the hand held out to him.
"Are you quite repentant now?" Mr. Westcote smilingly asked.
"Quite," was the reply. "I think this dose will do me all my life. I
am willing to do anything you ask me, even to blacking your boots."
"That's good, so obey me at once and leave this confounded hole."
"What, go with you?"
"Certainly. What else would have brought me here but to take you away?"
"To the court-room, I suppose," was the bitter rejoinder.
"Not at all. But come now, and I will explain everything on our way to
the city. My car is just outside."
How good Jasper felt to be once again out of doors, and he expanded his
chest and inhaled great draughts of the fresh air.
"My, that's great!" he exclaimed. "It will take me a long time to get
the poison of that cell out of my lungs, and----"
"The bitterness out of your soul, eh?" Mr. Westcote quietly asked, as
Jasper paused.
"Yes, that's what I was going to say. But I'm afraid it will be a much
harder thing to do. I've been the sport of fools so long that the
bitterness of my soul has become a chronic disease."
"Tut, tut, don't talk that way any more," Mr. Westcote chided. "Jump
on board now, and let us be off. I'll tell you something that will
sweeten your soul and make life worth living."
To Jasper it seemed almost like a dream as he leaned back and listened
to what his companion told him about the net of evidence which had been
woven about Sydney Bramshaw. He did not mention Lois in connection
with the affair, but related the incidents of the letter, the threat to
Betty Bean, and old David's narrow escape from the falling log. He
told him also about the two sealed papers, and who David Findley and
Sydney Bramshaw really were.
"This is certainly remarkable!" Jasper exclaimed, when Mr. Westcote
ceased speaking and took a cigar from his pocket. "But where is
Bramshaw now?" he asked. "Surely he has not been allowed to escape."
"Indeed he hasn't. He's in the city jail, that's where he is."
"Oh, I see." It was all Jasper could say.
"Yes, he was arrested last night as he was about to board the C. P. R.
for New York. His grip was searched and letters of a most
incriminating nature were found. Why, the fellow must be a fool to
have kept them with him. Almost any man in his right mind would have
destroyed them at once."
"How did he take his arrest?" Jasper enquired.
"At first he put up a big bluff and threatened all sorts of things.
But after a night in the lock-up and a thorough grilling this morning,
he broke down and begged for mercy. He was confounded by the net which
had been woven about him, and the look of terror in his eyes was really
pathetic."
"And has he confessed to murdering old David?" Jasper eagerly asked.
"Not exactly. But he has come so near to it that not the shadow of a
doubt is left about his guilt. I believe that he will confess all
shortly in the hope that he may escape the death penalty by doing so."
Jasper remained silent for a while apparently studying the scenery as
they sped on their way. But he saw nothing of tree, flower or rich
rolling meadows. His thoughts were elsewhere, and his next question
revealed the working of his mind.
"To whom am I indebted for the collecting of all that valuable
evidence?" he questioned. "Some one must have been very busy."
"You are indebted to several," was the reply. "But Miss Sinclair has
been the most active."
"So I imagined," was all Jasper said and he once more lapsed into a
silence which he did not break until the car drew up before Mr.
Westcote's office. He knew now that Lois cared for him, and his heart
thrilled with joy as he thought of the efforts she had made on his
behalf. How he longed to see her and thank her for what she had done.
The surprise which came to Jasper upon his speedy release and
vindication was nothing compared to the shock he received when Mr.
Westcote told him about old David's will.
"Surely he has not left everything to me!" Jasper exclaimed.
"No, not all; merely half after a few bequests have been disposed of.
Then you and Miss Sinclair are to share alike."
"I don't seem to comprehend it all yet," and Jasper placed his hand to
his forehead in a bewildered manner.
"It's only natural that you shouldn't. It will take you some time to
grasp the significance of the bequest which has been made to you. Your
responsibility will be very heavy, but from what I know of you I
believe that you will be equal to the undertaking."
"I shall do the best I can," Jasper replied. "I am too much dazed at
present to think it carefully over. For a man to be freed from all
suspicion of a terrible crime, and then to find himself heir to a vast
fortune all in one day is enough to turn any one's brain."
A knock sounded upon the office door, and Dr. Turnsell at once entered.
He shook hands with Jasper and heartily congratulated him.
"I have come to tell you," he added, "that Bramshaw has made a full
confession of his crime. He is a nervous wreck, and this morning he
broke down completely."
"I am very thankful that he has confessed," and Jasper gave a sigh of
relief. "Wasn't it lucky that he was caught before he got over the
Border?"
"You have to thank Miss Sinclair for that," Mr. Westcote replied. "But
for her prompt action I am afraid we would be frantically searching for
Bramshaw now."
"And I would be still in jail," Jasper mused.
"Undoubtedly. Now, it seems to me that Miss Sinclair should be
informed of what has happened as soon as possible. Suppose we slip up
and tell her?"
"That will be great," and Jasper sprang to his feet. "When can we
start?"
"At once. The car is waiting outside. I knew that you would be
anxious to go, and so ordered the chauffeur to be ready."