MISSING!
_"Sir,--I am directed by the Secretary of State for War to
acknowledge receipt of your letter of the 19th ultimo, the
contents of which shall receive his attention._
_"I am, sir,_
_"Your obedient servant,_
"J. FLEETWOOD CUNNINGHAM."
The Commandant, from long disuse, had forgotten the formalities of
official correspondence. His hand shook as he tore open the long
envelope, expecting to read his fate, and in the revulsion, as his eyes
fell on the few lines of acknowledgment, he caught at the table's edge
and sank into his chair with a sudden feeling of faintness.
For a few hours, then--possibly for a few days--he was respited. He put
the letter aside and walked out, to take his afternoon stroll around
the fortifications and steady his nerves.
By the Keg of Butter Battery he halted for a long look across the Sound
and towards Saaron. Unconsciously for a week past, he had fallen into a
habit of halting just here and letting his eyes travel towards Saaron.
It was just here that Vashti had seated herself the first morning, and
had asked him the fatal question, "For what, then, do they pay you?" He
remembered the words, the inflection of scorn in her tone. Here at his
feet on a cushion of wild thyme lay the stone she had prised out
absently, while she spoke, with the point of her sunshade. Just here,
too, she had taken leave of him on the night of her escapade, the night
when (it was bliss to remember) she had recanted her scorn, had asked
his forgiveness.
For a whole week he had not seen her. Was she careless, then, of the
answer?--of what resulted from the train she had fired?... But, after
all (the Commandant told himself), she had no need to concern herself
about it. She had but set him in the way of doing his duty; for the
rest, a man must accept his own responsibility, stand by his own
actions, abide his own fate.
Yet he would have given a great deal, just now, for speech with her, to
tell her that, unimportant though it was, some word from the War Office
had reached him.
Throughout his stroll his mind kept harking back to this letter,
seeking behind the few and formal words for meanings they did not
cover; and again that evening, after his frugal supper, he drew the
envelope from its pigeon-hole, spread the paper on the table before
him, and sat studying it.
He lifted his head, at a sound in the passage. The outer door had been
burst open violently, as though by a gust of wind, and a moment later
Archelaus came running in with a face of panic.
"The Lord behear us!" gasped Archelaus. "Oh, sir, here's awful, awful
news! The Lord Proprietor's been murdered, and his body flung over the
cliff, and Sam Leggo and Abe the gardener be running through the
streets wi' the news of it!"
"Murdered! The Lord Proprietor!" echoed the Commandant, laying down his
glasses and rising to his feet in blankest amaze.
"Yes, sir; shot with his own gun, and, they say, by Eli Tregarthen! The
two men have pulled across from Inniscaw for help, and to fetch the
constable.... I had the news from Sam Leggo hisself, as he raced off to
knock up Mr. Pope."
The Commandant sank back in his chair. Dreadful though the news was, he
saw in a flash that it was not incredible. Eli Tregarthen owed the Lord
Proprietor a grudge, and a bitter one. Eli Tregarthen was a man capable
of brooding over his wrongs and exacting wild justice for them. The
Commandant's thoughts flew to Vashti.
But even as he passed a hand over his eyes, another footstep invaded
the outer passage, and Mr. Pope himself rushed in, mopping his brow.
"My dear friend--" Not in his life before had Mr. Pope addressed the
Commandant as "my dear friend." He glanced from one scared face to the
other. "You have heard? Oh, but it is terrible!... And what on earth
are we to do?"
"I beg your pardon," answered the Commandant, recovering his presence
of mind. "'We,' did you say?"
"Naturally I came first to you.... You being a magistrate, and--if this
dreadful news be true--the chief magistrate left on the Islands."
"True," said the Commandant, yet more quietly. He had regained his
self-possession. "I had forgotten. To be sure, I had renounced the
office--as I supposed--at the Lord Proprietor's own wish; but doubtless
it reverts to me, and, in any case, this is no time to discuss
proprieties. Will you tell me what has happened and what has already
been done?"
"Done? I have done nothing except send for the constable, with word
that he was to follow me here to the Barracks and take your orders."
"But where is the body?"
"The body?" Mr. Pope shivered. "God knows. That, my dear Commandant, is
the cruellest part of the mystery--at least, according to Sam Leggo. It
appears that Sir Cæsar, Leggo and Eli Tregarthen were at North Inniscaw
this afternoon, taking stock of the farm, which Sir Cæsar was
persuading Tregarthen to rent. Tregarthen was sullen--you may have
heard that he resents being given notice to quit his holding on Saaron.
In the end, on some chance word of Sir Cæsar's he blazed up, completely
lost control of himself, and used threats of personal violence. Leggo
will swear to this; but it is immaterial, for I myself have heard him
indulge in similar threats, and so has Abe, the gardener. Well,
Tregarthen swung off in a huff, took his way down across Pare Coppa--it
was there, just under the Cam, that the outbreak occurred--apparently
for the landing-quay by the school, where his boat lay. He left Sir
Cæsar and Sam Leggo standing there."
"At what time?"
"The time, according to Leggo, was close upon sunset. Sir Cæsar--as his
habit is--carried a gun under his arm; but whether or not the gun was
loaded Leggo is unable to say. After expressing surprise at
Tregarthen's display of temper, Sir Cæsar turned the conversation upon
an old adit which lies under the seaward face of the Cam, and leads (I
am assured) down to Ogo Vean. Its existence is known to very few--and
Leggo was surprised to hear him mention it; but it now appears that he
had learnt of it this very afternoon, in casual talk with old Abe. He
desired then and there to explore it, and--having examined the
entrance--either because the adit itself is dark, or as a precaution in
the gathering dusk, he sent Leggo back to the farmhouse to fetch a
lantern. Leggo declares that it took him less than fifteen minutes to
reach the farm, find the lantern, and return with it to the lower gate
of Parc Coppa; also that he used his best speed because the dusk was
gathering. As he reached the gate he heard a shot from somewhere on the
edge of the cliffs. This did not perturb him, for he supposed that the
Lord Proprietor was potting at a stray rabbit. As he climbed the field,
however, towards the Carn, on the summit of which he had left Sir Cæsar
seated, he saw three small children running along the cliffs to his
left, making for the slope towards the landing-quay, and recognised
them for Tregarthen's three children. He called to them to stop, for
they seemed to be running in a panic. If they heard, they did not obey,
but ran down the hill out of sight. By this--and because he could not
see Sir Cæsar on the summit of the Carn--he began to grow alarmed, lit
the candle within his lantern (for it was now nearly dark), and
shouted. He received no answer. He ran to the edge of the Carn, climbed
down thence to the mouth of the adit, and--finding no trace of his
master--began to hunt, still shouting, along the cliffs to the left, in
the direction where he had first spied the children. To cut his story
short," resumed Mr. Pope, after taking breath, "his search led him to
the edge of the cliffs over Piper's Hole, and there, in a tangle of
brambles, his lantern shone on something bright, which proved, when at
no small risk he climbed down to it, to be the barrel of Sir Cæsar's
gun. Below the brambles (he says) the ground breaks away very
precipitately to a sheer fall of rock over the entrance of Piper's
Hole. He could not trust himself here, but declares that the earth
below the brambles--so much his lantern showed him--had evidently been
disturbed, and quite recently; as also that the slide was bare and
smooth, with no trace of a body between it and the last ledge over
which a falling body would plunge into the water; and the tide, as he
says--and as, indeed, we know--was almost at full flood. Having
satisfied himself of this, he ran back, down the hill and past the
school to carry the alarm to the house; and from the quay beside the
school he saw Tregarthen's boat crossing to Saaron, and Tregarthen in
it with his three children. Sam called to him, and his call brought out
the schoolmistress, who no sooner heard the story than she fell to
screaming. Tregarthen, though he must have heard the noise they made,
did not respond, but continued pulling calmly towards Saaron.
"Leggo could not say precisely, but admits that the boat was already
nearing Saaron, and that the man, if he heard, possibly did not
understand--that is, if one can suppose him innocent."
"We will suppose him innocent," said the Commandant, "until we have
better evidence that he is guilty. What was Leggo's next step?"
"He ran on smoking-hot to the house, the schoolmistress after him; up
through the gardens to the terrace, where they met old Abe returning
home from work. The schoolmistress went on to alarm the servants, while
the two men made for the private landing, unmoored the Lord
Proprietor's boat, and pulled across for Garland Town to break the news
to me. But on the quay and along the streets they told it to a score of
people, and it is spreading through the town like wildfire."
"Naturally." The Commandant had fetched and slipped on his great-coat,
and stood buttoning it. He glanced at his watch. "If the constable does
not turn up in a minute or so, we must start without him. Archelaus,
run you down and call up Mr. Rogers. Ask him, with my compliments, to
call out the coastguard----"
"Pardon me," Mr. Pope interrupted, "but that is unnecessary. Mr. Rogers
has already started for Inniscaw in the jolly-boat, taking Leggo with
him. They are to search the shore around Piper's Hole."
"Thank you," said the Commandant. "That was obviously the first step to
take, and I am obliged to you for having thought of it so promptly."
Mr. Pope coughed apologetically. He had grown of a sudden very red in
the face. "In point of fact," he confessed, "Mr. Rogers was at my house
when the news came. We were--er--indulging in a quiet rubber."
The Commandant understood. Had the occasion been less serious, he might
have smiled. Not since the night which brought Vashti to the Islands
had he received an invitation to Mrs. Pope's parties.
"Ah, to be sure!" said he, quietly, reaching for his forage-cap; "I had
forgotten that this was your whist-evening."
Mr. Pope coughed again awkwardly, and was about to make matters worse
by further apology, but a rat-tat on the door prevented this, and
Archelaus, hurrying out, admitted Dr. Bonaday, the physician of Garland
Town, followed by John Ward, the constable, and old Abe.
Of these three old men you would have found it difficult at first sight
to decide which was the eldest: and you have not made Dr. Bonaday's
acquaintance until now; because it was unnecessary. As the saying went
in the Islands, "the old doctor troubled about nobody, and nobody
troubled about he"--that is, unless an Islander needed to be helped
into the world or out of it. He was a bachelor, a recluse, and (albeit
his neighbours were ignorant of this) a European authority on lichens
and mosses. A small private income allowed him to indulge a habit of
forgetting to charge for his professional services; and, on the
strength of it, the Islanders forgave one who never remembered a face,
and who, when summoned to a sick-bed, had to be guided thither by a
messenger, lest he should knock at half a dozen doors in error by the
way. There was a tradition in St. Hugh's that once, running from his
surgery with a hot poultice, he had clapped it on the harbour-master,
who was politely intercepting him to point out that another two strides
would take him over the quay's edge into deep water. In person, Dr.
Bonaday was remarkable for a completely bald head, a hooked nose, and a
pair of vague, impercipient eyes, as of an owl astray and blinking in
the sunlight.
If Dr. Bonaday was an authority on lichens and mosses, Constable Ward
was an authority on nothing at all, even in his own house, where his
youngest grand-daughter attended to his wants. Amid a population which
seldom broke the law and never resisted it, he had sunk of late years
into a peaceful decay of all his faculties. He carried his emblem of
office, a small mace, attached to his wrist by a string, and his hand
shook pitiably as he fumbled for it, but less with excitement than from
shock at having been aroused and dragged from his bed into the night
air.
"I see no reason for taking the constable with us," the Commandant
decided, after a compassionate glance at the old man.
"In case of an arrest--" began Mr. Pope.
"First let us be certain that a crime has been committed."
"To my thinking, all the circumstances point to murder, and to nothing
else."
"And, if they do, we can accuse no one until we have found the body....
Constable, you can go back to bed."
"I thank you, sir." Constable Ward, for the instant plainly relieved,
checked himself, and stood trembling, irresolute. "You mustn't think,
gentlemen, that I'd shirk doing my duty."
"No, no, Ward: I quite understand," the Commandant assured him.
"The Governor," said Mr. Pope, slipping back to the old form of
address, disused for years--"The Governor rather doubts that you are
equal to it."
"For God's sake, gentlemen, don't put it in that way! This affair'll
get into the newspapers, over on the main, and if 'tis said that
Constable Ward was too old for his duty, whatever'll become of me?"
Mr. Pope turned away with a sniff of disgust. "People of a certain
class," said he half-audibly, "can see nothing but as it affects
themselves. Of his duty this old dotard thinks nothing at all, nor of
the scandal of his continuing to draw public pay: yet, mark you, how
keenly he scents a danger of losing it!"
The Commandant winced, and shot a glance at the aged, unheroic figure.
"And there," thought he, "but for God's grace and a woman's word,
stands Narcisse Vigoureux! Even so, a few days since, did I consent to
be incompetent and dread only to be detected."
Aloud he said: "Mr. Pope is too hasty, Ward, in suggesting that I don't
mean to use you. To-morrow, after a night's rest, there may be work
enough for you. Come, we are to pass your door, and will see you home.
You, Doctor, will accompany us, I hope? We may need you."
They set forth down the dark road towards the quay, Abe and Archelaus
walking ahead with lanterns, and guiding. Having restored Constable
Ward to his youngest grand-daughter, they pushed forward more briskly,
hailing the boat which (according to Mr. Pope) would be standing by for
them on Mr. Rogers' instructions. Sure enough, voices answered their
hail, and under the shadow of the quay steps they found the six-oared
Service gig, with her crew seated ready at their oars: also on the quay
itself the whole town gathered, canvassing the dreadful news.
At their approach the confused voices dropped to silence. In silence
the town watched its men of authority as they stepped down to the boat
and took their seats. And, amid silence, the coxswain called his order,
"Give way!"