Before Gubblum Oglethorpe parted with Jabez, he tried to undo the
mischief he had done. "Give us a shak' o' thy daddle," he said, holding
out his hand. But Jabez had not forgotten the similitude of the swine
ring. He made no response.
"Dang him for a fool!" thought Gubblum. "He's as daft as a besom." Then
Gubblum remembered with what lavish generosity he had bribed the pot-boy
to no purpose. "He cover't a shilling dammish," he thought; "I'll dang
his silly head off!"
Jabez put down the candle and backed out of the room, his eyes fixed on
the peddler with a ghostly stare.
"You needn't boggle at me. I'll none hurt ye," said Gubblum. Jabez
pulled the door after him. "His head's no'but a lump of puddin' and a
daub o' pancake," thought Gubblum.
Then the peddler sat on the bed and began to wonder what possible reason
there might be for the lad's sudden change of temper. He sat long, and
many crude notions trotted through his brain. At last he recalled the
fact that he had said something about Jabez's snout carrying a swine
ring. That was the rub, sure enough. "I mak' no doobt he thowt it was a
by-wipe," thought Gubblum.
Just as the peddler had arrived at this sapient conclusion, he heard
heavy footsteps ascending and descending the ladder that stood in the
passage outside. Gubblum understood the sounds to mean that the inn was
so full of visitors that some of them had to be lodged even in the
loft. "Ey, I shouldn't wonder but this is a bonny paying consarn," he
thought.
He undressed, got into bed, and blew out his light. He lay awhile
waiting for sleep, and thinking of the failure of his plummets to sound
the depths of Jabez. Then he remembered with vexation that the lad had
even laughed at him in spite of the "shilling dammish."
"Shaf, it was no'but his guts crowkin'," thought Gubblum; and he rolled
over, face to the wall, and began to pay nasal tribute to sleep.
From the slowly tightening grip of unconsciousness Gubblum was roused to
sudden wakefulness. There was a noise as of heavy shuffling feet outside
his door. The peddler raised himself and listened.
"Too dark in this corner," said a voice. "Get a light."
Gubblum crept out of bed, held his head to the door, and listened.
There were retreating steps. Then the man who had spoken before spoke
again. "Quick, there! we must catch the train at eleven fifteen."
The voice pealed in Gubblum's memory. He knew it. It was the voice of
the last man he should have looked for in this house--Hugh Ritson.
Presently the footsteps approached, and thin fingers of light shot over
Gubblum's head into his dark room. He looked up at the door. Three small
round holes had been pierced into the styles for ventilation.
"Put the candle on the floor and take the feet--I'll go up first," said
the same voice.
Gubblum raised himself on tiptoe and tried to peer through the
perforations. He was too small a man to see through. There was a chair
by the side of his bed, and his extinguished candle stood on it. He
removed the candlestick, lifted the chair cautiously, placed its back to
the door, and mounted it. Then he saw all.
There were two men, and he knew both--the brothers Ritson. Ah! had he
not said that Paul Ritson kept this inn? "I'll shut up the whole boilin'
of 'em next time," thought the peddler, "Wait! what are they lugging
into the pigeon loft?"
"Easy!--damme, but the fence is a weight!"
It was the hoarse voice of the other man. The candle was behind him and
on the floor. It cast its light on his back. "If I could no'but get a
blink frae the cannel, I'd see what's atween them," thought Gubblum.
The men with their burden were now at the top of the ladder.
"Twist about, and go in sideways," muttered the voice first heard.
The man below twisted. This movement brought the full light of the
candle on to the faces of all three.
"Lord A'mighty, whativer's this?" Gubblum thought.
The burden was a man's body. But it was the face that startled the
peddler--the face of Paul Ritson.
Gubblum's eyes passed over the group in one quick glance. He saw two
Paul Ritsons there, and one of them lay as still as the dead.
A minute more of awful tension, and the door of the loft above was
slammed and shut, the heavy feet of the two men descended the ladder
quickly, and went down the stairs into the bar.
Gubblum listened as if with every sense. He knew that the outer door to
the road had opened and closed. He heard footsteps dying away in the
distance without. All was silent within the house.
* * * * *
Two men hastening in the night to the Hendon railway station paused at
that turn of the road which leads to the police offices and jail.
"You go on and take care of yourself--I'll follow in five minutes," said
one.
"You ain't going to give a man away?" said the other.
There was only a contemptuous snort for answer. The first speaker had
turned on his heel. When he reached the police offices, he rang the
bell. The door was answered by a sergeant in plain clothes. "I've found
your man for you," said Hugh Ritson.
"Where, sir?"
"At the Hawk and Heron."
"Who is he?"
"Paul Drayton. You'll find him lying in the garret at the west end of
the gable--drunk. Lose not an hour. Go at once."
"Is the gentleman who struggled with him still staying there--Mr. Paul
Ritson?"
"No; he goes back home to-night."
"What's his address in the country?"
"The Ghyll, Newlands, Cumberland."
"And yours, sir?"
"I am his brother, Hugh Ritson, and my address is the same."
"We'll go this instant."
"Well, take your piece of frieze with you and see if it fits. It was by
the torn ulster that I recognized your man. Good-night."