A CRUEL IMPLICATION
"My dear lad, it is foolish to give way to grief before you are sure
that there is cause for it"--so said Mr. St. Clive to Ralph Rexworth,
trying to comfort the boy and restore his confidence. "I admit that
this, coupled with your father's absence, looks serious; but still,
we do not know what explanation there may be to it. Come, try and be
brave; trust in God, even though the very worst may have befallen; idle
grief is useless. Let us go to Stow Wood and examine the place; perhaps
we may discover something which this man may have overlooked. Pluck up
your courage, and hope for the best; and Ralph, remember, that whatever
happens you have a friend in myself, who counts it a privilege to be
able to do anything to show how grateful he is to you for what you did
yesterday."
Ralph, with an effort, subdued his feelings, and replied gratefully--
"You are very kind to me, sir. Let us do as you suggest. Will you
take me to the place? I do not know anything of the country here, of
course."
"I will go with you, and we will have this man accompany us, and show
us exactly where he found this hat. Come, we will start at once."
Stow Wood was about a mile and a half from the inn, a rather
dismal-looking place, where the grass grew long and dank, and where
stoats and rats found a safe retreat from which to sally forth at night
upon their marauding expeditions; and the grimmest, most lonely spot
was around the deep pool, known locally as the Black Mere.
A dark, motionless pool it was; in some parts covered with green weed,
surrounded by coarse grass.
Local superstition said that it was haunted, and though sensible people
laughed at that, still the appearance of the spot was enough to give
rise to such a legend.
"I found the hat just here, sir," said the man, bending down and
pointing to a clump of blind-nettle. "You can see where it was lying,
sir."
Mr. St. Clive and Ralph stopped and examined the place. It was clear
that something resembling a struggle had taken place here, for the tall
grass was trampled and beaten flat, and, in some places, the earth
itself had been cut up, as though by the heels of boots. Mr. St. Clive
felt very grave--if ever anything seemed to tell of a tragedy, this
did--and he said to Ralph--
"My poor boy, I must own that there seems every appearance of foul play
here. We shall have to see the police. You are quite sure that your
father told you nothing, however unimportant it may seem, which might
give us an inkling of where he was going?"
"He said nothing, sir," answered Ralph sadly. "It is all a mystery to
me. But now we are here we may as well learn all that we can."
"What more can we learn, Ralph?" asked Mr. St. Clive. "This silent spot
will not speak and tell us what happened."
"Not to you perhaps, but it will speak to me, sir. I have been brought
up on the plains, remember, and grass and trees may tell me more than
they can tell to you. First, sir, is this a direct road to anywhere? I
mean, is it a general thoroughfare?"
Mr. St. Clive shook his head.
"No, Ralph. It is a rarely frequented spot. The village people are half
afraid of it. It is a short cut from Stow Ormond to Great Stow, and it
would argue that your father must have been familiar with the place for
him to have taken it."
"Where else besides Great Stow does it lead to, sir?"
"Why, my lad, to nowhere in particular. It takes you out the other side
of Stow Common, and, of course, from there you can go where you will."
Ralph nodded.
"So that we may suppose that any one crossing here would be going to
Great Stow?"
"Yes. It would save him going all round through Little Stow."
"Very well, sir. Now we will go to the side of the wood nearest to the
inn."
"Why?" asked Mr. St. Clive in surprise.
"Because I want to know whether my father crossed this place in going
from the inn; and if so, I want to try and see where he went to. There
is a lot to learn here, sir; but I must start at the beginning."
Mr. St. Clive was impressed, though he could not understand what Ralph
meant; and so together they went back to that part of the wood which
bordered upon Stow Ormond, and here Ralph began to walk to and fro,
carefully surveying the grass, until presently he stopped and said--
"My father did cross here. He got over that stile."
"How do you know, Ralph?" asked Mr. St. Clive. "I confess that I see
nothing to indicate it."
"Why, it is quite clear, sir," answered the boy. "See, the ground here
is soft and muddy, and this is the imprint of my father's foot here
in this soft red clay. That has taken the mark like wax. That is his
square-toed boot."
Mr. St. Clive had to admit that so far the boy was correct. Some one
wearing a square-toed boot had stepped into a little heap of clay, and
the footmark was quite clearly defined.
"Now," Ralph went on, pointing to the stile, "here is a mark of clay on
the stile, so he must have crossed here, and here the grass has been
trodden down as he went on."
This latter sign was nothing like so clear, but the boy, used to
reading tracks in the far-off West, showed the man how the blades of
grass were turned from the weight that had trodden on them; and as
they walked forward the traces became even plainer, leading past the
pool, and on towards the common; and Ralph gave a cry as he studied the
ground.
"Here are two people walking now," he said; "and one wears pointed
boots!"
"The man who brought the hat to us," suggested Mr. St. Clive.
"No, sir. He wore big boots, with nails in them. You can see the marks
of those quite plainly, and he came here last of all."
"How do you know that?" demanded Mr. St. Clive, very interested.
"Because the marks that he has made are over all the others," was the
explanation. "Let us go on."
They followed the traces, faint though they seemed, until they reached
the common; and here, though Ralph studied the ground for nearly an
hour, he could discover nothing. Several roads crossed the common,
and the men must have traversed one of these, but which one there was
nothing to show.
Back to the pool they went, and here Ralph paused; and Mr. St. Clive,
looking at him inquiringly, said--
"Well, what now, my boy? Have you learnt anything?"
"Yes--a lot, sir; but I do not understand it. Let me tell you what
these signs tell me. My father crossed here alone, and went somewhere
across the common, and I do not think that it could have been very far
away. Then he came back alone----"
"But the second man?" queried Mr. St. Clive.
"One moment, sir. He came alone, and he stopped to light another cigar
just here. Look, here is the match half-burnt, and the stump of the one
he threw away."
"Yes; go on," said Mr. St. Clive, nodding his head. "You have reason
for what you say."
"Now, some one followed my father back, and he wore rather small boots
with pointed toes----"
"Plenty of gentlemen do that. I wear such boots myself, you see."
"I know, sir. This man was dodging my father, and when he stopped to
light his cigar the man stopped too, just over there behind that hedge."
"My dear lad, what makes you say that?"
"The mark of his feet are there, and I think he fired at my father more
than once. He fired once and missed, I know, because this tree has
got a bullet in the bark, and I am going to have it out! Then he ran
forward, and there must have been a fight, and father fell just here.
Look, you can surely see where he lay? See the length where the grass
is crushed; and see these two marks--a heel and a toe; that means,
that some one knelt beside him, and----. Look, look, sir!"
A glimmer of something bright in the long grass caught Ralph's eye,
and, stooping, he picked up a watch and chain, and a purse, which had
evidently been thrown hastily aside.
"Whoever killed my father searched him, and wanted something in
particular. It was no robber, for then he would have taken these and
not thrown them down."
Mr. St. Clive could only look on in silence. There was something very
strange in the boy thus unfolding the incidents of a strange mystery,
reading them from almost invisible signs upon the grass. And Ralph
continued--
"Then the man ran away and came back with a cart--you can see the marks
of the wheels. See, they come close up here! And here he drove off
again. I suppose that father was in the cart--that is what he brought
it for. The horse went a bit lame, too, in the off forefoot. That is
all the place can tell me, sir."
All! Mr. St. Clive was amazed that the boy was able to see so much, and
he followed his reasoning, noting how one footmark partly obliterated
another, proving that it had been made after it. That a strange meeting
had taken place in that lonely wood seemed indeed all too likely, but
beyond that all was mystery. Why had Mr. Rexworth entered this place,
whither was he going, and who was the man who had come after him?
Ralph had his knife out, and was busily cutting away the bark of one of
the trees which stood close by. His action proved that he had not been
wrong in his conjecture--a flattened piece of lead was embedded there,
and Frank put it into his pocket.
"Perhaps one day that may tell me some more," he said.
But there was nothing more to do there, though Mr. St. Clive said that
he would see that the wood was searched through, and that the mere
was dragged; and then, trying to speak comforting words to Ralph, he
returned with him to Stow Ormond. And as they entered the inn, a tall,
handsome gentleman, with one hand in a sling, came out, and seeing Mr.
St. Clive, greeted him with: "Hallo, St. Clive, I hear that your little
girl had a narrow escape last night!"
Mr. St. Clive frowned.
"Yes, from your bull, Lord Elgert. You ought to have the brute properly
guarded. If it had not been for this young gentleman, Irene might have
been killed."
Lord Elgert stared at Ralph, and his look was not pleasant.
"Oh, is this the young man who noosed him? Well, he has broken the
bull's knees; but, however, it is fortunate that he was at hand. By the
way, what is this that Simon tells me. Something has happened in Stow
Wood?"
"I fear so," replied Mr. St. Clive; and he narrated briefly what they
had discovered.
Was it fancy, or did Ralph notice that handsome face turn a shade paler
when mention was made of the bullet cut from the tree? Somehow the boy
did not like this wealthy gentleman, though he knew not why he should
regard him with enmity. When Mr. St. Clive had concluded, Lord Elgert
said--
"Dear, dear! How strange! But still, you do not know that anything
has happened. You will tell the police, of course. Can you give a
description of your father, my boy?"
"I can show his likeness, sir," replied Ralph, taking out his
pocket-book. "Here it is!"
Lord Elgert took the photograph, but as he looked at it he gave a
whistle of surprise.
"So this is the missing man?" he said. "St. Clive, perhaps, I can tell
you something of interest. Last night my place was broken into, and
I woke up to hear a man in my study. I went down and switched on the
electric light, so that I could see the rascal quite plainly. He turned
and tried to bolt, but I closed with him, and in the rough-and-tumble
he managed to cut my hand open and clear off. St. Clive, I am positive
that the man was none other than the original of this likeness, and----"
He was interrupted by a passionate cry of pain and anger, and Ralph,
snatching the photograph from his hand, stood confronting him with
blazing eyes.
"It is false!" he cried. "You know it is false! I believe that you are
responsible for my father's disappearance!"