In the Toils
During the whole of this excitement, Mrs. Farrington had remained
motionless, striving to comprehend the meaning of it all. At first a great
rage filled her heart at the thought of Stephen Frenelle talking in such a
way to her husband. But when the papers had been read her anger was
changed to fear, which was much increased by Farrington's excited
condition. She realized that he was placed in an unenviable position, but
thought not so much of the meanness of his deed as of what the neighbours
would say. How could she ever hold up her head again? she wondered. How
the women would talk! And then to think that Si was in danger of losing
the election, all on account of this Stephen Frenelle. What business had
he to interfere? It was no concern of his. She watched everything which
took place, and listened eagerly to each word. She heard the chairman
ordering her husband to wait until several went with him to search his
safe. Then when she had seen him sink upon the seat at her side, she gave
one cry and fell prostrate upon the floor.
At once several people sprang forward, and strong arms bore her through
the crowd into the open air.
Farrington hardly noticed what was taking place. He sat huddled upon the
seat where he had dropped, helpless and full of despair.
"Come, Mr. Farrington"--it was the chairman's voice--"we must get through
with this business, and we are determined to get through with it to-night.
Will you go quietly and open that safe, or must we carry you there?"
No answer coming from the wretched man, the chairman continued: "Very
well, then, men, there's only one thing left--and what's your wish?"
"Drag him there," was the shout, and a yell of derision arose whilst a
number of sturdy forms rushed forward. The people were wildly excited now.
They realized the nature of the trick which had been imposed upon an
innocent man. Had the money been merely stolen, or had Farrington
committed forgery, they would have let the law take its course. But in
this case the vile meanness of the deed, the criminal silence of months,
stirred their hearts, inflamed their passions, and carried them beyond the
bounds of reason.
"Let me alone!" yelled Farrington, as a dozen hands were laid upon him.
"Will you come, then?"
"Y-y--es," was the quaking reply.
"Well, hurry up about it," and as the wretched man started for the door,
he was rushed forward by the crowd which surged about him. Hatless and
almost breathless, with wild staring eyes, Farrington staggered along the
road. The store was reached.
"Unlock the door," was the command, "and make haste about it."
This was soon done and the crowd pressed into the building.
"Now open the safe!" the chairman demanded, "and show us what's there."
But just here Farrington, terrified though he was, hesitated. Like the man
who, about to die on the gallows, cherishes hope of deliverance almost to
the last, so did he. Perhaps his friends would interfere to save him from
the ignominy. But alas! his former boon companions, Tom Fletcher and his
gang, were nowhere to be seen. They had quietly slunk away, fearful for
their own safety from the infuriated people. Now that safe door stood only
between Farrington and eternal disgrace. It was no wonder that he paused.
How could he do it? The perspiration stood in great beads upon his
forehead, and his knees would hardly support his body.
"I can't!" he gasped, looking imploringly around.
A yell was the only response to his appeal.
"Boys," cried the chairman, when the confusion had subsided, "there's a
coil of new rope over there in the corner, and a stout tree stands
outside. Suppose we give him his choice. He can either open the safe or go
up to the first limb."
"Hear, hear!" was the reply, and a rush was made for the rope, a long
piece cut off and a loop formed. The chairman had no idea of carrying out
the latter design, and he knew very well that such an extreme measure
would not be needed. It was simply a ruse to get the safe open. And in
this he was right. When Farrington heard their terrible words, and saw the
noose made ready, with a groan he sank upon his knees before the safe.
With trembling hands he turned the steel disk, but somehow the combination
would not work. Again and again he tried, the people becoming more and
more impatient. They believed he was only mocking them, while in reality
he was so confused that he hardly knew what he was doing. But at length
the right turn was made and the heavy door swung open upon its iron
hinges.
"Bring out the stuff," demanded the chairman.
One by one the articles were brought forward, and last of all from a back
corner Farrington slowly dragged forth an iron box with a white cross mark
upon it.
A shout of triumph rose from those who first beheld it, and then yells of
derision.
"Order!" commanded the chairman.
"Is that Billy Fletcher's box?"
"Y-y-es."
"And you knew it was there all the time, and let Parson John get the blame
for stealing it?"
"Y-y--es. B-b--ut fer God's sake have mercy! I--I--didn't mean to do it! I
was o-only j-j--okin'! I intended to ex-p-plain everything."
There was an ominous movement among the bystanders, and those in the rear
did some excited talking, while several left the building. Presently the
sound of heavy blows was heard in the store-room adjoining the shop. Then
a rush of feet ensued, and Farrington was suddenly caught and hurried
forward. The light of a small lamp shed its feeble beams over the place,
making it look more ghostly than ever. The intentions of his captors
flashed into Farrington's mind. Standing there was a large cask of tar
used for boats and the roofs of houses. The head had been smashed in, and
the odour was pouring forth.
"Fer God's sake not that!" shrieked the wretched man. "Oh, help, help!
Murder!"
But his cries were all in vain. Rough hands were laid upon him, his
clothes were hurriedly ripped off, and he was lifted bodily, and lowered
feet first into the black, slimy depth. He resisted, but it was useless.
He was forced down upon his knees, and the tar covered him to his very
ears. Silence reigned now in the room. They were determined men who were
handling this nasty job, and with set mouths and intense grimness they
watched the victim flounder about and then give up in despair.
When he had been soused and soaked to their satisfaction he was helped
out, and with the tar dripping from his body he was led back into the main
store. There a large feather-bed was seen spread out upon the floor. It
had been ripped open, and into this Farrington was plunged. He yelled and
cursed, but to no avail. He was rolled over and over among the yielding
feathers, and when at length he was allowed to stand upon his feet he
presented the picture of a strange, incongruous bird with the head and
feet of a man. No hand touched him now, and he stood there not knowing
what to expect.
"Go," cried the chairman pointing to the back door leading into his house,
"and the sooner you pull up stakes and leave the parish the better for
yourself and family."
As soon as Stephen knew that his services were no longer needed, he stood
back and let matters take their course. He followed the crowd to the store
to see what would happen. Not until he had seen the box with his own eyes
could he be completely satisfied with his evening's work. But when at
length the safe was opened and the box exposed to view, he gave a deep
sigh of relief. He had waited to see what the men would do with
Farrington. He knew that the punishment inflicted was just. Stephen did
not believe in the mob spirit, but he realized that the most effective
remedy at times was that administered when the people aroused in
righteous indignation tarred and feathered the culprit, bestowed the
cat-o'-nine-tails or ducked him in the nearest pond. Though not in
accordance with the British Constitution it is certainly the most
effective way of dealing with some mean, contemptible cases. And
Farrington's was one of them. With clever legal counsel he might be able
to prove that he was acting within his right in holding the money "until
called for," according to the wording of the paper he had signed, while
the real motive that prompted him to keep silence might not be considered
at all.
Having thus seen Farrington receive his just deserts, Stephen hurried
home. A light was burning in the sitting-room which his mother had left
for him ere she retired for the night. He threw himself into an armchair
and reviewed the exciting scenes of the evening. A weight had been
suddenly lifted from his mind, and his heart was filled with thankfulness.
He thought of the joy which would shine in Nellie's face when she learned
how her father had been cleared of that terrible charge. He longed to see
her, to look into her eyes, to clasp her hands and tell her what had so
unexpectedly happened. Was she thinking of him? he wondered, and what was
she doing? He realized more than ever what she meant to him. Life was
unbearable without her sweet, loving presence.
At length, taking the lamp in his hand he sought his own room, but not to
sleep. He threw himself upon the bed, clothes and all. But try as he might
his eyes would not close. Ever before him rose that white-haired old man,
with the weary face, bearing so patiently the burden of injustice. Why
should he carry the load any longer? Why should he not know the truth as
soon as possible? And how would he know unless someone went at once?
Acting upon the thought he sprang from the bed, lighted the lamp and stole
softly downstairs. He was about to leave the house, when he paused, and
turning back went to a little writing-desk and drew forth a sheet of
paper. Taking a pencil from his pocket he wrote a brief message to his
mother, and laid it upon the dining-room table, where she would be sure to
find it in the morning.
Having accomplished this he left the house and made his way to the barn.
His favourite horse was startled from his sleep, and laid back his ears in
resentment as the saddle was placed upon his back, and he was led out of
the stable. The moon was flooding the whole land with its silver beams as
Stephen sprang into the saddle and headed Dexter for the main road. Then
the ring of steel-shod hoofs echoed upon the still air as horse and rider
sped through the night, on to a little village far away beyond the hills.