A FATAL SNARE
“Just now the whole neighborhood was excited over the situation at the
Hall. Young Mr. James Hawkhurst, nephew and heir of Squire Hawkhurst,
was a sort of Prince Hal, in his way, and had by his wild life and free
manners at the same time won the love of all his young tenants, whose
boon companion at the ale-house he frequently became, and the
indignation of his uncle, who threatened to disinherit him.
“This, the gossips of the village said, the squire had the legal power
to do, since the estate was not entailed; but they also urged that the
squire had no moral right to rob his heir of that land which he should
justly inherit, not only from his immediate progenitor, but from the
long line of ancestors who had gone before him.
“This was the view taken by all the youthful tenants and boon companions
of the young squire.
“At every evening gathering in the tap-room of the Tawny Lion, Joe heard
this matter discussed, and naturally he took sides with the young squire
and his followers.
“At length, when Joe and Lil had been in the neighborhood for about five
weeks, a crisis came in the affairs of the Hall.
“It was understood that a very violent scene had ensued between the old
squire and the young one, which had ended in the banishment of the young
squire, who had left the Hall in disgrace and had taken lodgings at the
Tawny Lion.
“In a day or two it was ascertained that the old squire had had a
‘stroke,’ and was not expected to live through the week.
“A servant from the Hall had brought the news to the circle at the
ale-house, that a telegram had been sent to the solicitor of the old
squire, Mr. John Ketcham, of Carlisle, to come immediately down to the
Hall to remain with the squire until the end, and to take charge of
affairs; also to bring with him the squire’s last will, which
disinherited the heir and left the estate to a hospital, and which was
already signed and sealed.
“Lawyer Ketcham, the man added, was expected to arrive at Stockbridge,
the nearest railway station, by the 9:50 express, and would come on to
the Hall by the railway stage coach, which ran twice a day between
Stockbridge and Orton.
“The news brought by the servant from the Hall excited a great deal of
indignation among the men present.
“Much foolish talk was indulged in. Many worse than foolish threats were
made.
“In the midst of it all, Joe, who was as usual present, got up and left
the place, and hurried home to Hayhurst Farm to take tea with Lil.
“He found the people at the farm all in a state of extreme excitement at
some news brought by a cowboy, to the effect that the old squire had
just breathed his last. Not that they were so much interested in the old
squire as the young one.
“Mrs. Claxton, the farmer’s wife, hoped that no will had been made, in
which case the young squire would of course inherit as heir-at-law.
“Then Joe contributed his mite of intelligence gleaned from the circle
in the tap-room of the Tawny Lion, to the effect that the obnoxious will
had been made, signed and sealed, and that it was then in the hands of
Lawyer Ketcham, who was on his way from London to Orton, to take charge
of affairs at the Hall.
“And now Mrs. Claxton prayed the Lord might forgive her for hoping that
some accident might happen to the train or to the stage coach, to
prevent that wicked will ever coming to light.
“After tea, some one suggested that the report of the old squire’s death
might possibly be a false one, and suggested that some one else should
go over to the Hall and ascertain the truth.
“Joe, the least tired of all the men present, because they had been hard
at work all day and he had not been at work at all, good-naturedly
volunteered for the service.
“Everybody thanked him, and he got up to go. Everybody laughed when he
kissed Lil, as if he had been going on a long journey instead of a short
walk.
“Ah me! how little we know what we do! Joe set out to be gone half an
hour; but he never saw the farm-house again.
“Joe went on to the Hall, gayly whistling and utterly unconscious of the
impending tragedy of his life.
“At the Hall he found the servants closing the window-shutters, although
it was not yet dark; from that circumstance he gained confirmation of
the report of the squire’s death, even before their words had given it.
“‘But Lawyer Ketcham is expected down to-night to look after affairs,
and nothing more can be done until his arrival,’ was the volunteered
communication of the old butler.
“Joe thanked the man and turned to go back to the farm. Ah! if he had
only gone back to the farm, what woe would have been spared him and all
connected with him. Strange on what seeming trifles human destiny hangs.
Venerable reflection that!
“If Joe had turned to the east instead of the west, on leaving the park
gates, his whole life would have been different. The east path would
have led him back to the farm and to safety. The west path led him to
the gates of perdition.
“The reason why, at the last moment, he turned to the west was simple
enough. He remembered that there was an evening mail due at the village,
and thought it just possible that Joseph Wyvil, relenting towards Lil
and Joe, might have written a letter, and that he should find it at the
post-office and have the delight of taking it home to rejoice the heart
of the young wife. So he turned to the west, instead of to the east, and
so decided his own fate.
“Joe trudged all the way to the village, whistling gayly as he went.
“He found no letter in the post-office, and feeling much disappointed,
he turned to go home to the farm-house, through the gathering darkness.
“The way was long, and the sky was black with night and clouds. Joe
thought to take a short cut through some thick woods, but in attempting
to do so lost his way and wandered about for some time before he came
out on a part of the high road unfamiliar to him.
“He turned into this; but was utterly at a loss what direction to take.
“Presently, however, he heard footsteps and voices approaching, and he
spoke aloud, asking to be directed the nearest way to Hayhurst Farm.
“By that time the approaching party had come up with him, and one of
them, who had recognized his voice, called out:
“‘Is that you, Joe?’
“‘Yes, Thomas Estel, it is I, and I have lost my way in the dark, and
want to be set on my right road for Hayhurst Farm,’ replied the youth.
“‘All right. But come with us first. We won’t keep you long. And you’ll
see some roaring fun.’
“‘But it is late, and I want to get home to Lil,’ objected Joe.
“‘And so you shall in good time; but come with us first.’
“‘Where are you going?’
“‘Not out of your way home. Quite on the same road. This road. Such a
lark! You’ll never forgive yourself if you miss it.’
“Poor Joe! He was always ready for a lark. He joined himself to the half
dozen boys, whom, as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he
began to recognize as his village acquaintances; but more from their
general appearance than from their faces, which were all half masked.
“‘Is it mumming?’ inquired Joe.
“‘Something like that,’ replied Estel.
“And they went on together down the road, which deepened into a dark
dell, or gully, between two high, wooded banks.
“Here they paused and waited.
“‘What are you stopping for?’ inquired Joe.
“‘Oh! you’ll soon see,’ replied a boy named Burton.
“‘I wish you would let me go on. I know Lil will be anxious,’ pleaded
Joe.
“‘So you shall in a minute or two. Wait a bit.’
“Estel and Burton were stretching a rope across the road and tying its
extremities to trees on the opposite sides.
“Joe watched them uneasily.
“‘What are you doing that for?’ he anxiously inquired.
“‘Ax us no questions and we’ll tell you no lies, youngster,’ laughed
Burton.
“‘I’m going home!’ retorted Joe; and he turned to leave the party and to
try to find his way to the farm alone.
“But at that moment the sound of wheels was heard rapidly approaching
from the direction to which Joe had set his face, and at the same time
the lanterns of the swiftly-rolling stage coach gleamed through the
darkness.
“Another instant and the leaders had reached the unseen barrier, tripped
and reared. At the same moment the bits were seized, the coach was
surrounded, and oaths and curses, cries and screams, and dire confusion
filled the scene. In the struggle with the rearing and plunging horses
the coach was overturned, the lanterns extinguished, and utter darkness
was added to the horror of the situation.
“Joe Wyvil stood at a little distance, transfixed with amazement at the
suddenness of the catastrophe that he did not in the least understand.
He never for a moment suspected that the stopping of the stage coach was
the ‘lark’ alluded to by his companions, for why should they stop the
stage coach? They were not highway robbers, even if highway robbers were
not utterly out of date in England in this century. No; he supposed the
whole affair to have been an accident, unintentionally caused by the
boys stretching that rope across the road in pursuit of some other
‘lark;’ to trip up some foot passenger, perhaps, whom they meant to make
the victim of some practical joke.
“Only for an instant he stood panic-stricken, and then he darted into
the horrible mêlée to find out if he could be of any assistance.
“At the same moment he perceived through the murky darkness the figures
of two men in silent, deadly struggle, and then he heard, through the
groans and shrieks, the stern voice of some man saying:
“‘Hand over that wicked will, you villainous law shark, or I will save
the hangman a job by strangling you with my own hands!’ or compliments
to that effect.
“A fiercer, deadlier struggle ensued, and then the flash and report of a
pistol, and the heavy fall of one of the men.
“Almost at the same instant the scene was filled with a posse comitatus
of constables and laborers, drawn to the spot by the shrieks and cries
that had given the alarm.
“A murder had been committed, and Joe Wyvil was found bending over the
dead man, with the fallen pistol on the ground at his feet, when he was
rudely collared and well shaken by the strong hand of the constable who
arrested him.
“But so utterly dazed and confounded was the boy by all that had so
suddenly happened to him, like a hurricane or an earthquake in its swift
destruction, that he was totally unable to give any intelligible account
of himself.
“His companions had fled, and taken to the covert of the woods on either
side. Joe, the guiltless, was the only one arrested.
“With the help of many hands the overturned stage coach was righted, and
the passengers—all of whom, except the murdered man, were more
frightened than hurt—got upon their feet and were helped to their
places.
“The stage driver, somewhat bruised and shaken, was assisted to mount
his box and take the reins once more in his hands, and so the coach
resumed its journey.
“Nothing but the dead man on the roadside and the wretched boy in
custody remained to tell the tale of the catastrophe.
“The dead body was placed on a hastily procured plank, and borne away to
the police station to await the action of the coroner. And the boy, with
handcuffs on his wrists, was marched off between two constables to the
lock-up house.
“Poor Joe was no hero. This violent separation from Lil; this stern
arrest and imprisonment; this sudden, overwhelming calamity was so
wondrous, so incredible that he could not realize or believe in it, but
rather imagined himself to be the victim of some horrible nightmare
dream from which he tried to awaken.
“Yet still he told a pitiable tale to the constable of how he had been
unconsciously drawn into that fatal adventure, and begged that some one
might be sent to Hayhurst to his little wife, to tell her that he was
only detained on business, and would return to her as soon as he
possibly could.
“The officer, half in pity for the boy, half in impatience at his
importunity, I suppose, promised to do all that he wished, and so locked
him up for the night.
“Poor Joe was but a child, after all, and he cried all night long.
“In the morning he was taken before a magistrate, and charged with
highway robbery and murder—the robbery of the stage coach and the murder
of Lawyer Ketcham.
“Joe, to save the name of his adopted family from reproach, gave his own
as John Weston, saying to himself that he had about as much right to the
one as to the other.
“He told his little story, but no one believed it, and he was duly
committed to jail, to take his trial at the forthcoming assizes.
“He had not seen or heard of his young wife since his arrest.
“Again he childishly implored constable and jailer not to let Lil know
the truth of his misery, but to send her word that he was detained on
business, and would come to her as soon as he could.
“And, as before, half in pity and half in impatience, they promised
everything he required.
“Joe was too deeply humiliated to write to any one. It is all very well
to talk about the support of conscious innocence, but it is reasonable
to conclude that a man who is by his nature utterly incapable of crime
suffers much more under its false imputation than does the darkest of
criminals. Conscious innocence did not help poor little Joe much. He
pined under the false charge, so ashamed of it that he could not prevail
upon himself to write to any friend.
“But one day his prison door was opened and Joseph Wyvil entered the
cell, his honest face full of sympathy, his kind eyes full of tears, his
voice full of affection, as he stretched out his hands and took Joe’s,
saying:
“‘My poor, poor boy!’
“‘You don’t believe I did it, Joseph?’ said Joe.
“‘I know you did not. I know you could not!’ answered Joseph, pressing
the hands he held.
“‘And, oh! Lil!’ cried Joe.
“‘Lil does not doubt you; but she is too ill to come to the prison. She
is with me in the town here.’
“‘Not—not—dangerously ill?’
“‘Oh, no. Only prostrated; but confident in your innocence, Joe.’
“‘God bless her! God bless you! You have forgiven us, Joseph?’
“‘I forgave you from the first; I only intended to teach you a lesson by
holding off for a bit. I wish I had not done it now. Perhaps if I had
not, this would not have happened; but, Joe, it will all come right. I
will take care of Lil until you are out again, and I will spend my last
shilling in securing the best counsel I can get to defend you and to
clear you, Joe, old fellow!’
“‘Oh, Joseph! I don’t deserve it from you! Not from you!’
“‘You are my cousin and my brother!’ said honest Joseph.
“It is nearly impossible to give the exact words of this conversation
from memory; but such, at least, was its purport.
“He stayed as long as the rules of the prison would permit, and then,
having cheered Joe with hopes of a happy issue out of his trouble, and
with promises to stand by him to the end, and to bring Lil to see him as
soon as she should be able to come, Joseph shook hands with the prisoner
and left him.
“The next day the faithful brother returned to the jail even before the
doors were opened, and waited until he could be admitted to see Joe.
“He brought cheering news that he had engaged the services of one of the
most distinguished lawyers in Carlisle, Mr. John Rocke, to defend the
accused boy, and that the counsel would visit the prisoner in the course
of the day.
“‘But how is Lil?’ eagerly demanded Joe, more concerned about the health
of his little bride than about his own vindication and deliverance.
“‘Lil is better since I saw you and reported well of you. Poor Lil
feared that you would be as heavily prostrated as she has been by this
sudden and overwhelming blow, but now since she knows that you bear it
so bravely, she is more hopeful and consequently stronger. I shall bring
her to see you to-morrow.’
“‘Thank Heaven for that! But as to my bearing this infernal wrong——’
“‘Don’t swear, my poor boy,’ Joseph mildly interposed here.
“‘I’m not swearing. Infernal isn’t an oath; but it is the truth. It is
an infernal wrong, and I have not borne it bravely at all! I have not
borne it in any way until you came to see me, dear Joseph!’ passionately
exclaimed the imprisoned boy.
“‘Stop that and listen to all the messages that Lil has sent you,’
pleaded Joseph.
“And then to attentive ears he repeated all the loving, confiding and
encouraging words of the little bride to her imprisoned husband.
“The arrival of the counsel, Mr. Rocke, interrupted this tête-à-tête.
“Joseph Wyvil introduced the visitor to Joe.
“And then when the three men were seated—the lawyer on the solitary
wooden chair and Joseph and Joe side by side on the narrow cot—the young
prisoner told his story, of how he was returning home from the Orton
post-office to Hayhurst Farm, when he accidentally fell in with a gang
of boys who told him they were going on a lark and pressed him to join
them; how, partly from curiosity to know what they were going to do and
partly from willingness to oblige them, he joined the gang without the
faintest suspicion that they intended to do any unlawful deed, and that
the stopping of the stage coach and the murder of the lawyer came upon
him with the sudden shock and horror of an earthquake.
“‘I said the murder of the lawyer, but I should rather have said the
death of the lawyer, for I am sure it was an accident.’
“‘An accident! Why, he was certainly shot by one of the assailants!’
said Mr. Rocke.
“‘No, he was shot by himself.’
“‘By himself!’ exclaimed Messrs. Rocke and Wyvil in a breath.
“‘Yes; listen,’ said Joe. ‘Now that I can look back coolly on all that
happened and put things together, I can understand much that at the time
of the action was incomprehensible to me. And I am sure that no violence
was intended beyond the seizure of a document in the green bag of the
family solicitor. When the coach was overturned I thought it was an
accident, and as soon as I recovered from the momentary shock I ran to
the rescue. In the mêlée, through the obscurity, I saw two men
struggling—one of the gang—Thomas Estel—the other a passenger of the
coach—the lawyer. The first was trying to get possession of the bag, the
second was holding it fast to his side with one hand, and with the other
drawing a pistol from his breast pocket, which he leveled at his
assailant. Estel struck the muzzle of the pistol up, and it went off,
shooting the lawyer under the chin. There! I saw all that,’ said Joe.
‘And the next minute the posse was upon us and I was in custody. All the
rest of the gang had fled.’
“‘And as usual,’ added Joseph Wyvil—‘as usual, the only guiltless one of
the party became the scapegoat for the guilty. Have any arrests been
made since?’
“‘Oh, yes! several noted roughs and poachers, on suspicion, but every
one proved an alibi and got off.’
“‘And Estel?’
“‘Estel and another chap, one Burton, both respectable young farmers,
and tenants of Squire Hawkhurst, have disappeared from the
neighborhood.’
“‘Do you know,’ inquired the young prisoner, ‘how it all goes on at the
Hall? I cannot help thinking that all this came about through the old
squire’s wicked will, and that it was only to get possession of that
will and destroy it that the stage coach was stopped.’
“‘Very likely,’ replied Mr. Rocke. ‘But as for affairs at the Hall, of
course, after the death of the lawyer, who was on his way down to take
them in charge, the bailiff, who was entirely in the interests of the
discharged nephew, notified Mr. James, who had gone to town, and the
young squire arrived in time to take charge of his uncle’s funeral.
After which, as heir-at-law, he entered into the undisputed possession
of the estate, inherited not only from his immediate progenitor who had
no just right to cut him off from it, but from a long line of
ancestors.’
“‘Well,’ sighed Joe, ‘I am glad he enjoys his own again, though it costs
so much, and though I never would have joined them that helped him to
it, if I had known they were going to break the peace.’
“The lawyer questioned Joe farther as to his unconscious connection with
the stage robbers of that fatal night, and after noting down all his
replies, retired to prepare his brief, leaving the boy cheered with
hope.