BRENT SPEAKS OUT.
"It was Mr. Lovel," repeated Iris; "and if he was not concerned in the
murder, what was he doing at midnight on the very spot where it
occurred?"
"He may have been there after twelve o'clock," said Paul; "but to
inculpate him you must prove that he met Milly between eight and
nine."
"I can't prove it; no one can prove it."
"I am not sure of that," replied Paul, with sudden recollection;
"there is a man called Brent who was in the Winding Lane on that
night, and about that time. I'll see him."
Iris shook her head. "If Brent had known anything he would have come
forward at the inquest."
"No doubt--if he had not been bribed."
"What makes you think that Brent has been bribed?" asked Iris, in
surprise.
"I do not think so; but Herne insists upon it."
"Mr. Herne!" said Iris, in a low voice, and with a flush--"he believes
Lovel guilty also?"
"Yes--and without your grounds for belief. Also, he declares that
Lovel bribed Brent to hold his tongue."
"Does Mr. Herne think that Brent saw the murder committed?"
"Oh, no! but he thinks that Brent saw Lovel with Milly."
"I am certain Milly, poor girl, was with Lovel on that night, and I
believe he killed her."
There was a few minutes' silence, and then Paul turned quickly towards
Iris. "I want to ask you a rather rude question," said he, awkwardly.
"What is it?"
"You won't be angry?"
"I am long past feeling anger after what I have gone through," said
Iris, sadly. "What is it you wish to know, friend?"
"You asked me not to search for the assassin of Milly; and now I find
that you believe the assassin to be Lovel. Are you in love with the
man, that you sought to screen him?"
"In love with Mr. Lovel!" cried Iris, indignantly. "Not I! I despise
him too much! A man who would act as he has done with Milly, knowing
that she was engaged to Herne, is not worthy of a woman's love! No; I
do not love, or even respect, Mr. Lovel."
"Then why do you seek to screen him?"
Iris rose to her feet with a cold look. "I cannot answer that question
now. I had my reasons for acting as I did."
"What do you mean?" asked Mexton, rising in his turn. "I don't
understand you."
"If I told you my reasons, you would understand still less," said Iris
bitterly. "I do not understand myself. But don't ask me any more
questions, Paul. I have told you all I know."
"All!" said Mexton, with emphasis, his eyes searching her face.
"All I can tell you now, at all events," she replied, obstinately.
After this last remark Mexton was satisfied that Iris, for reasons of
her own which he could not guess, had not confessed all she knew. Yet
as he was unaware of her motives for this reserve, he did not think it
wise to press his questions. Better, he thought, to accept her refusal
for the moment, and question her on some future occasion, when she
might be more inclined to take him into her confidence. Moreover, by
examining Brent, and forcing him into confession, he might get at her
knowledge without the necessity of procuring it through herself. The
matter thus settled in his own mind, Paul discarded the subject of the
murder, and addressed himself to the question of Miss Link's position.
"You will accept my mother's offer, I suppose?" said he, quietly. "At
all events you will stay with her until after the trial of your
stepfather?"
Iris winced. "I do not care about facing Marborough gossip," she said;
"but I think it best to stay with Mrs. Mexton, as I am afraid to
remain here alone. I shall go over to Marborough by the six o'clock
coach. Eliza can stay here in charge of the house."
"Very good, Iris. I shall meet you at six o'clock at The Herne Arms
and take you over."
"And in the meantime--?"
"I intend to find out Brent, and force him to confess the truth."
This arrangement having been come to, Paul left Poverty Villa, and
went off in the direction of the village. On his way towards the
market-place, where he expected to find Brent--for it was market-day
in Barnstead, and the town was full of farmers and labourers--Mexton
remembered that the ploughman had confessed to being with one Jane
Bilway in the Winding Lane. If this were so, the woman must have seen
as much as the man; and if she had not been bribed also, it was more
likely that he would be able to extract the truth from her. Mexton
knew most people, high and low, in Barnstead, amongst these Jane
Bilway, who was a servant at The Chequers, a little public-house on
the outskirts of the village. Thither he turned his steps to see what
he could learn from the woman.
Jane was a broad, squat wench with a healthy red face and dull eyes.
She had about as much intelligence as a cow, and was only useful in
doing rough work and common drudgery. She was, at the moment of Paul's
arrival, cleaning the front windows of The Chequers, and recognised
him with a friendly grin. At once Mexton began to ask her questions on
the subject which was uppermost in his mind.
"Jane," he said, quietly, "you are to marry Giles Brent, they say?"
"Yes, Mr. Mexton. We've bin keepin' company since Christmas."
"You see him occasionally?"
"Most ivery day. He comes here a lot; he's inside now, havin' a wet,"
said Jane, pointing to the window of the tap-room.
This was better news than Paul expected, for it gave him the chance
of an immediate conversation with Brent. But before entering the
public-house, he pursued his plan of gaining information from Jane.
"Were you walking with him on the night Miss Lester was killed?"
"I were," replied Miss Bilway, frankly. "We went to the Methody Chapel
together."
"Where did you meet him?"
"Just by the church, sir. We heard the shot fired when the bell was
ringing."
"But you were with him in the Winding Lane?"
Jane shook her head emphatically. "No, I wasn't, sir," she denied. "I
couldn't git away in time to go there. I wasn't in the lane on that
night."
"Oh!" Paul noted that Brent had been telling a lie. "You met Brent by
St. Dunstan's Church at nine o'clock, and went to the Methodist
Chapel?"
"Yes, I did. And I 'eard the shot fired, but I thought it was nothin',
though Giles he wanted to go back."
"You didn't see Miss Lester on that night?"
"No, sir; but I see Miss Iris, her sister, by the church at nine. She
must 'ave heard the shot, too."
"I daresay," replied Paul, with assumed carelessness. "Well, Jane,
here's a sovereign to buy yourself a wedding-present."
"Thank you, sir," said Jane, slipping the coin into her pocket. "I
wants all I can git, though to be sure Giles ain't badly off for
money."
"Oh, he has money, has he?" said Mexton, recollecting Herne's idea of
the bribery; "a few shillings, no doubt?"
"A good few shillings, sir! Five pounds of 'em! We're goin' to spend
'em on the weddin'. Giles saved up the money from his wages. He's a
good fellow, is Giles, sir."
"I'm sure he is; I hope he'll make you a good husband."
"I'll see to that!" replied Miss Bilway, grimly, and she went on
cleaning the windows.
Paul laughed as he entered the tap-room, and thought of the ingenious
Mr. Brent's device for accounting for his possession of the money. He
was well known to be a thriftless wastrel, who spent most of his
earnings in strong ale; and was as likely to save five pounds as he
was to do an honest day's work. No one but simple Jane Bilway, blinded
by love, would have believed so improbable a story. There was now no
doubt in Paul's mind that the theory of Herne was correct. Lovel and
Milly had met in the Winding Lane between eight and nine o'clock on
the night of the murder, and had been seen by Brent as he was on his
way to meet Jane near the church. Lest he should tell Herne of the
meeting Lovel had bribed him with the five pounds.
"Though it is a large sum for a man like Lovel to give," thought Paul;
"he is not well off, and would not part with so much money unless he
was forced to. I hope the five pounds was not given to conceal a worse
affair than a simple meeting. However, I'll play a game of bluff with
Brent, and wring the truth, whatever it may be, out of him."
Brent, who was a huge, bull-headed fellow with a sulky face, sat alone
in the tap-room with a mug of ale before him. He touched his hat to
Paul, whom he recognised, and looked puzzled for the moment at the
sight of a gentleman in a low-class public-house, which was usually
patronised by himself and those of his class.
"Well, Brent," said Paul, in a cheerful voice, "how are you? All
right--eh? I have just come to have a few moments of conversation with
you."
Brent took his pipe from his lips, and gave a sulky growl. "What
about, sir?"
"I'll tell you in good time," replied Paul, taking a chair, and
selecting a cigarette from his case. "In the meantime, I am thirsty,
and wish to drink. You'll have some ale with me?"
"I'd 'ave ale wi' anyone," said Brent, suspiciously; "but I don't
know, sir, what the likes o' you wants with the likes o' me."
"We'll come to that soon," said Mexton, and hammered on the table.
"Two tankards of bitter," he added to the slip-slop landlady, who
entered with a deferential smile.
The liquor was soon brought, and after a deep draught Paul lighted his
cigarette, and looked closely at the ploughman. Brent took a drink
also, and tried to appear at ease, although he was visibly disturbed
by the scrutiny of his visitor. Having reduced him to a doubtful frame
of mind, Mexton addressed himself to the matter in hand.
He knew the manner of the man he had to do with, and that it would not
be an easy matter to extract information from such a sulky brute.
Threats also would avail little, as Brent was one of these pig-headed
men, who begin by denying, and go on doing so in the face of the
clearest evidence with incredible obstinacy. The sole chance of
getting at the truth was to assume that Lovel had confessed the
bribery to him--that is, to Paul Mexton--and had sent him on an errand
connected therewith to Brent. This attitude necessitated the telling
of a few lies; but Mexton was quite prepared to tell them. He was
cool-headed and pertinacious, and not the man to stick at a trifle for
the gaining of his own ends.
"I have come to you from Mr. Lovel," said Paul, slowly.
Brent's jaw dropped. "What's the likes of him want with the likes of
me?" he said.
"A little decency, in the first place," replied Mexton. "You promised
to hold your tongue about the meeting of Mr. Lovel and Miss Lester on
the night of the murder."
"How d'ye know they met?" asked Brent, with dogged suspicion.
"Mr. Lovel told me. Do you think I would know if he had not?--or that
I would be aware that he paid you five pounds to hold your tongue?"
Brent, whose brain worked slowly, fell into the trap at once. Unless
Lovel had spoken, as Mexton declared, he did not think Paul could have
come by such exact information; the more particularly as the precise
amount of the bribe was mentioned. It never occurred to Brent at the
moment that Jane had innocently betrayed him.
"Well, I've earned the money all right, ain't I?" he growled.
"Indeed you have done no such thing!" replied Mexton. "You have been
talking about the meeting."
"I swear I ain't!" cried Brent, bringing down his huge fist on the
table. "I cud 'ave talked about it when they sat on the corpse; but I
didn't. I stayed here and shut up. I never told a single soul as I
seed Mr. Lovel and Miss Milly walking in the Winding Lane on that
night."
This was quite enough. Herne had been right and Lovel had met Milly by
appointment on the fatal night. Therefore the alibi proved by Mother
Jimboy was a deception to defeat the ends of justice; and Lovel was in
league with the gipsy. Paul began to believe that he might have killed
Milly after all; but he resolved to question Brent further before
coming to so important a conclusion.
"Well, I daresay Mr. Lovel was mistaken," said Paul, genially; "it
would be dangerous for him were it known that he met Miss Lester on
that night."
"I don't see it!" growled Brent.
"I do; and so does Mr. Lovel; that is why he asked me to see if you
had kept silence. If it was known that Mr. Lovel was in the Winding
Lane on that night, he might be accused of the murder."
"Let 'em accuse!" said Brent, grimly, "they can't prove he killed the
gal. And I knows he didn't, else I'd not held my tongue. If he was a
murderer, I'd get him hanged for all his five pounds!"
"Then you are certain Mr. Lovel is innocent?"
"Yes, I am."
"And you know who is guilty?"
"I ain't sure of that," replied Brent, after a pause; "but I saw her
creeping after Mr. Lovel and the gal, and when I heard the shot, I
ses: 'She's done it!'"
"She? Who?" asked Paul, much excited.
"Why, Miss Clyde, o' Clyde's Farm. Who else?" replied Brent, coolly.