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Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 32. Circumstantial Evidence |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE "Now, sir," cried Sir Francis angrily, "have the goodness to explain what you were doing there." This was to Ike, who seemed stupid and confused. The excitement of the fight had roused him up for a few minutes; but as soon as that was over he yawned very loudly, and when Sir Francis turned fiercely upon him and asked him that question he said aloud: "Eh?" "Answer me, you scoundrel!" cried Sir Francis. "You heard what I said." "Eh? Hah, yes. What had I been a-doing--heigh--ho--hum! Oh, how sleepy I am! What had I been a-doing here? What I been doing, Mars Grant?" "You were asleep," I said on being appealed to; and I spoke angrily, for I was smarting under the accusation and suspicion of being a thief. "Asleep!" cried Ike. "To be sure. That's it. Asleep I was under the bushes there. Dropped right off." "You repeat your lesson well," said Sir Francis. "Pray, go up to the house--to the library, you boys--you, sir, follow me." Courtenay and Philip went on in advance, Sir Francis followed, and we were bringing up the rear when Ike exclaimed in remonstrance: "That ain't fair, master. You ought to sep'rate them two or a nyste bit of a tale they'll make up between them." "You insolent scoundrel!" roared Sir Francis. "All right, sir; scoundrel it is, just as you like. Wonder who'll tell the truth, and who won't?" "Hold your tongue, Ike!" I said angrily. _Plop_! That strange sound was made by Ike, who struck his mouth with his hand as if to stop it up and prevent more words coming. Meanwhile we were going up the garden, and came suddenly upon a spot of fire which kept glowing and fading, and resolved itself into Mr Solomon's evening pipe in the kitchen-garden middle walk. "Hallo! young gentlemen!" he exclaimed; and then, seeing his master: "Anything the matter, Sir Francis?" "Matter!" cried Sir Francis, who was in a great passion. "Why are you, my head gardener, not protecting my place with the idle scoundrels I pay? Here am I and my sons obliged to turn out of an evening to keep thieves from the fruit." "Thieves! What thieves?" cried Mr Solomon. "Why, Isaac, what are you doing here?" "Me!" said Ike. "Don't quite know. Thought I'd been having a nap. The master says I've been stealing o' pears." "Silence!" cried Sir Francis. "You, Brownsmith, see that those two fellows come straight up to the library. I hold you answerable for their appearance." Sir Francis went on first and we followed, to find ourselves, about ten minutes later, in the big library, with Sir Francis seated behind a large table, and a lamp and some silver candlesticks on table and mantel-piece, trying to make the gloomy room light. They did not succeed, but there was light enough to show Courtenay and Philip all the better for running up to their rooms and getting a wash and brush, while I was ragged, dirty and torn, bruised and bleeding, for I could not keep my nose from giving forth tokens of the fierce fight. Courtenay was not perfect, though, for his mouth looked puffy and his eyes were swelling up in a curious way that seemed to promise to reduce them to a couple of slits. I glanced at Mr Solomon, and saw that he was looking very anxious, and as our eyes met his lips moved, and he seemed to be saying to me: "How could you do such a disgraceful thing?" but I smiled at him and looked him full in the eyes without flinching, and he appeared to be more cheerful directly. "Attention!" cried Sir Francis as if he were drilling his men; but there was no more fierceness. The officer and angry master had given place to the magistrate, and he cleared his throat and proceeded to try the case. There was a little shuffling about, and Philip whispered to Courtenay. "Silence!" cried Sir Francis. "Now, Courtenay, you are the elder: tell me what you were doing down the garden." "We were up by the big conservatory door, papa," said Courtenay boldly--"Phil and I--and we were talking together about getting some bait for fishing, when all at once there came a whistle from down the garden, and directly after some one seemed to answer it; and then, sir--'what's that?' said 'Phil,' and I knew directly." "How did you know?" cried Sir Francis. "Well, I guessed it, sir, and I said it was someone after the fruit; and I asked Phil if he'd come with me and watch and see who it was." "And he did?" "Yes, sir; and we went down the garden and couldn't hear or see anything, and we went right to the bottom, and as we were coming back we heard the pear-trees being shaken." "How did you know it was the pear-trees, sir?--it was dark." "It sounded like pear-trees, sir, and you could hear the big pears tumbling on the ground." "Well, sir?" Courtenay spoke out boldly and well. He did not hesitate in the least; and I could not help feeling what a ragged dejected-looking object I seemed, and how much appearances were against me. "I said to Phil that we ought to try and catch the thieves, and he said we would, so we crept up and charged them, and I had this boy, and I suppose Phil brought that man, but it was so dark I could not see what he did." "Well, sir?" "Well, papa, this boy knocked me about shamefully, and called me all sorts of names." "And you knocked him about too, I suppose?" said Sir Francis. "Yes, I suppose I did, sir. He hurt me, and I was in a passion." "Now, Philip, what have you to say?" Philip looked uneasy as he glanced at his brother and then at Sir Francis. "Well, go on, sir." "We were up by the big con--" "Yes, yes, we have heard all about that," cried Sir Francis. "Yes, pa; and we heard whistles, and Courtenay said, 'What's that?'" "I thought it was you said 'What's that?'" "No, pa, it was Courtenay," cried the boy quickly: "he said it. And then I wanted to go down and catch the thieves, and Courtenay came too, and we could hear them shaking down the pears. Then I went one way and Courtenay went the other, and I saw that new labourer--that man--" "Fine eyes for his age," said Ike in a low growl. "How dare you speak, sir, till you are called upon for your defence!" cried Sir Francis. "Oh, all right, your worship!" growled Ike. "On'y you know how dark it weer." "Silence, man!" _Plop_! That was Ike's hand over his mouth again to enforce silence. "Go on, Philip," said Sir Francis quietly. "Yes, pa," cried the boy excitedly. "As soon as I saw that man shaking down the big pears I ran at him to try and catch him." "You should ha' took off your cap, young un, and ketched me like a butterfly," growled Ike. "Will you be silent, sir!" _Plop_! "He struck me, then, in the chest, pa, and knocked me right down in among the bushes." "No, he did not," I exclaimed indignantly; "it was I." "It was not; it was that man," cried Philip; and Ike burst out into a hearty laugh. "Am I to order you out of the room, sir?" cried Sir Francis, severely. "All right, your worship! No," cried Ike. _Plop_! "Now, Philip, go on." "Yes, pa. I'm not very strong, and he shook me and banged me about ever so; but I was determined that I would not let him go, and held on till we heard you come; and then instead of trying to get away any more he turned round and began to drag me towards you, pretending that he had caught me, when I had caught him, you know." "Go and sit down," said Sir Francis. "You boys talk well." "Yes, papa, we are trying to tell you everything," said Philip. "Thank you," said Sir Francis, and then he turned to me and looked me all over. "Well, sir," he said, "your appearance and the evidence are very much against you." "Yes, Sir Francis," I said; "very much indeed." "Well, what have you to say?" I could not answer for some moments, for my feelings of indignation got the better of me, but at last I blurted out: "I went down the garden Sir Francis, to try and catch some moths." "With this, eh?" said Sir Francis picking up something from the floor, and placing my old dark lantern on the table. "Yes, Sir Francis," I said. "I am making a collection." "Where is it, then?" "Down at the cottage, Sir Francis." "Humph!" ejaculated Sir Francis. "Have you seen his collection, Brownsmith?" "Yes, Sir Francis; he has a great many--butterflies and moths." "Humph! Sugar the trees, eh?" "Yes, sir," I said quickly. "And do you know that he goes down the garden of a night?" "Yes, Sir Francis, often," said Mr Solomon. "Isn't it enough to tempt him to take the pears?" "No, Sir Francis," replied Mr Solomon boldly. "I might just as well say to you, 'Isn't it enough to tempt him to take the grapes or the peaches to trust him among them alone.'" "He did steal the peaches when he first came. I caught him at it," cried Philip viciously. "No, you did not, young gentleman," said Mr Solomon sternly; "but I saw you cut two bunches of grapes one evening--the Muscat of Alexandria--and take them away." "Oh what a wicked story!" cried Philip, angrily. "Call it what you like, young gentleman," said Mr Solomon; "but it's a fact. I meant to speak to Sir Francis, for I hate the choice fruit to be touched till it's wanted for the house; but I said to myself he's only a schoolboy and he was tempted, and here are the young gentleman's nail scissors, Sir Francis, that he dropped in his hurry and left behind." As Mr Solomon spoke he handed a pair of pearl-handled scissors--a pair of those spring affairs with a tiny knife-blade in each handle--and in the midst of a dead silence laid them on the table before Sir Francis. "Those are not mine," said Philip hastily. "Humph!" ejaculated Sir Francis, picking them up and examining them. "I shall have to order you out of the room, man, if you make that noise," he cried, as he turned to Ike. "I weer on'y laughin', your worship," said Ike. "Then leave off laughing, sir," continued Sir Francis, "and have the goodness to tell me what you were doing down the garden. Were you collecting moths with a dark lantern?" "Me, your honour! not I." "What were you doing, then?" "Well, your honour's worship, I was having a bit of a sleep--tired, you see." "Oh!" exclaimed Sir Francis. "Now, look here, Grant, you knew that man was down the garden." "Yes, Sir Francis." "And didn't you go to join him?" "Yes, Sir Francis." "To get a lot of my pears?" "No, Sir Francis." "Then why did you go?" he thundered. I was silent. "Do you hear, sir?" "Yes, Sir Francis." "Then speak, sir." I remained silent. "Will you tell me why you went down the garden to join that man?" I looked at poor Ike, and felt that if I spoke it would be to get him discharged, so I preferred to remain silent, and said not a word. "Will you speak, sir?" cried Sir Francis, beating the table with his fist. "I can't tell you, Sir Francis." "You mean you won't, sir?" "Yes, Sir Francis." "Why not tell the whole truth, Grant?" said Mr Solomon, reproachfully. "Because I can't, sir," I replied sadly. "Be silent, Brownsmith," cried Sir Francis fiercely. "He's too good a mate to tell," said Ike stoutly. "Here, I may as well make a clean breast of it, and here it is. I'm an old soldier, sir, and--well, theer, it got hold of me at dinner-time. 'Stead of having anything to eat I had a lot to drink, having had some salt herrin' for breakfast, and I suppose I took too much." "Herring, my man?" "No, your worship, beer; and I went to sleep down among the bushes. There, that's the honest truth, Mr Brownsmith's brother. Fact as fact." "I believe you, Ike," said Mr Solomon. "He's a very honest workman, Sir Francis." "Thank ye; I call that handsome, I do," said Ike. "Stop! this is getting very irregular," cried Sir Francis. "Now, Grant, once more. Did you not go down the garden thinking you would get some of those pears?" "No, Sir Francis." "To meet that man, and let him take them away?" "No, Sir Francis." "Do you mean to tell me, sir, that you did not go down to join that man?" "I did go down to join him, Sir Francis," I replied. "I saw him asleep and tipsy in among the black currants and I left him there, and took this key to-night to wake him up and let him out by the gate in the wall." "Why not through the coach-yard?" "Because I was afraid he would meet Mr Solomon Brownsmith, and get into disgrace for drinking." "Thankye, Mars Grant, thankye kindly," said Ike. "Silence!" _Plop_! "A nice tale?" said Sir Francis. "We are getting to the bottom of a pretty state of things." Just then I saw Courtenay look at Philip as if he were uneasy. Then I glanced at Sir Francis and saw him gnawing at his moustache. "Lookye here, sir," said Ike sturdily. "Is it likely as we two would take the fruit? Why, we're always amongst it, and think no more of it than if it was so much stones and dirt. We ain't thieves." "Look here," said Sir Francis, suddenly taking a tack in another direction, "you own that you beat my son--my stepson," he added correctively, "in that way?" "Yes, Sir Francis," I said, "I didn't know who he was in the dark." "You couldn't see him?" "Only just, Sir Francis; and I hit him as hard as I could." "And you, my man, do you own that you struck my other stepson as hard as you could in the chest?" "No!" cried Ike fiercely; and to the surprise of all he threw off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve, displaying a great red-brown mass of bone and muscle, and a mighty fist. "Lookye here, your worship. See there. Why, if I'd hit that boy with that there fist as hard as ever I could, there wouldn't be no boy now, only a coroner's inquess. Bah! I wonder at you, Sir Francis! There's none of my marks on him, only where I gripped his arms. Take off your jacket, youngster, and show your pa." "How dare you!" cried Philip indignantly. "Take off your jacket, sir!" roared Sir Francis, and trembling and flushing, Philip did as he was told, and at a second bidding rolled up his sleeves to show the marks of Ike's fingers plainly enough. Ike said nothing now, but uttered a low grunt. "He did hit me," cried Philip excitedly. "No; I hit you," I cried, "when I rushed at you first. I followed you after I'd heard you scramble over the wall." "Oh!" cried Philip with an indignant look. "You heard them scramble over the wall?" said Sir Francis sharply. "Yes, Sir Francis. I think it was by the big keeping-pear that is trained horizontally--that large old tree, the last in the row." Sir Francis sat back in his chair for a few moments in silence; and Courtenay said to his brother in a whisper, but loud enough for everyone to hear: "Did you ever hear anyone go on like that!" Sir Francis took no notice, but slowly rose from his seat, crossed the room, opened the French window that looked out upon the lawn, and then said: "Hand me a candle, Brownsmith." The candle was placed in his hands, and he walked with it right out on to the lawn and then held it above his head. Then, walking back into the room, he took up another candlestick. "Let everyone stay as he is till I come back." "Do you mean us to stay here, papa--with these people?" said Courtenay haughtily. Sir Francis stopped short and looked at him sternly without speaking, making the boy blench. Then he turned away without a word, and followed by Mr Solomon bearing a lighted candle, which hardly flickered in the still autumn evening, he went on down the garden. "Haw--haw--haw!" laughed Ike as soon as we were alone. "You're a pair o' nice uns--you are! But you're ketched this time," he added. "How dare you speak to us, sir!" cried Courtenay indignantly. "Hold your tongue, sir!" "No use to hold it now," said Ike laughing. "I say, don't you feel warm?" "Don't take any notice of the fellow, Court," cried Phil; "and as for pauper--" "You leave him to me," said Courtenay with a vindictive look. "I'll make him remember telling his lies of me--yes, and of you too. He shall remember to-night as long as he lives, unless he asks our pardon, as soon as Sir Francis comes back and owns that it was he who was taking the pears." I turned away from them and spoke to Ike, who was asking me about my hurts. "Oh! they're nothing," I said--"only a few scratches and bruises. I don't mind them." The two boys were whispering eagerly together, and I heard Philip say: "Well, ask him; he'd do anything for money." "Look here," said Courtenay. I believe he was going to offer to bribe us; but just then there was the sound of voices in the garden and Sir Francis appeared directly after, candle in hand, closely followed by Mr Solomon, and both of them looking very serious, though somehow it did not have the slightest effect on me, for I was watching the faces of Courtenay and Philip. "Shut that window, Brownsmith," said Sir Francis, as he set down his candle and went back to his chair behind the table. Mr Solomon shut the window, and then came forward and set down his candle in turn. "Now," said Sir Francis, "we can finish this business, I think. You say, Grant, that you heard someone climb over the wall by the big trained pear-tree?" "I heard two people come over, sir, and one of them fell down, and, I think, broke a small tree or bush." "Yes," said Sir Francis, "a bush is broken, and someone has climbed over by that big pear-tree." "I digged that bit along that wall only yesterday," said Ike. "Be silent, sir," cried Sir Francis; "stop. Come forward; set a candle down on the floor, Brownsmith." It was done. "You, Isaac, hold up one of your feet--there, by the candle. No, no, man; I want to see the sole." Ike held up a foot as if he were a horse about to be shod, and growled out: "Fifteen and six, master, and warranted water-tights." "That will do, my man," said Sir Francis, frowning severely as if to hide a smile; and Ike put down his great boot and went softly back to his place. "Now you, Grant," said Sir Francis. I walked boldly to the candle and held up my heavily-nailed garden boots, so that Sir Francis could see the soles. "That will do, my lad," he said. "Now you, Courtenay, and you, Philip." They came forward half-puzzled, but I saw clearly enough Sir Francis' reasons, Ike's remark about the fresh digging having given me the clue. "That will do," said Sir Francis; and as the boys passed me to go back to their places I heard Philip utter a sigh of relief. "What time did you hear these people climb over the wall, Grant?" said Sir Francis. "I can't tell exactly, Sir Francis," I replied. "I think it must have been about eight o'clock." "What time is it now, Courtenay?" said Sir Francis. The lad clapped his hand to his pocket, but his watch was not there. "I've left it in the bed-room," he said hastily; and he turned to leave the library, but stopped as if turned to stone as he heard Sir Francis thunder out: "You left it hanging on the Easter Beurre pear-tree, sir, when you climbed down with your brother--on one of the short spurs, before you both left your foot-marks all over the newly-dug bed. Courtenay Dalton--Philip Dalton, if you were my own sons I should feel that a terrible stain had fallen upon my name." The boys stood staring at him, looking yellow, and almost ghastly. "And as if that proof were not enough, Courtenay, Dalton; when you fell and broke that currant bush--" "It was Phil who fell," cried the boy with a vicious snarl. "The truth for the first time," said Sir Francis. Then bitterly: "And I thought you were both gentlemen! Leave the room." "It was Phil who proposed it all, papa," cried Courtenay appealingly. "Ah, you sneak!" cried Philip. "I didn't, sir. I was as bad as he was, I suppose, and I thought it good fun, but I shouldn't have told all those lies if he hadn't made me. There, they were all lies! Now you can punish me if you like." "Leave the room!" said Sir Francis again; and he stood pointing to the door as the brothers went out, looking miserably crestfallen. Then the door closed, and the silence was broken by a sharp cry, a scuffle, the sound of blows, and a fall, accompanied by the smashing of some vessel on the stone floor. Sir Francis strode out into the hall, and there was a hubbub of voices, and I heard Philip cry passionately: "Yes; I did hit him. He began on me, and I'll do it again--a coward!" Then there was a low murmur for a few minutes, and Sir Francis came back into the library and stood by the table, with the light shining on his great silver moustache; and I thought what a fine, handsome, fierce old fellow he looked as he stood frowning there for quite a minute without speaking. Then, turning to Mr Solomon, he said quickly: "I beg your pardon, Brownsmith. I was excited and irritable to-night, and said what I am sorry for now." "Then don't say any more, Sir Francis," replied Mr Solomon quietly. "I've been your servant--" "Faithful servant, Brownsmith." "Well, Sir Francis, 'faithful servant,'" said Mr Solomon smiling, "these twenty years, and you don't suppose I'm going to heed a word or two like that." "Thank you, Brownsmith," said Sir Francis, and he turned to Ike and spoke sharply once more. "What regiment were you in, sir?" "Eighth Hoozoars, Captain," said Ike, drawing himself up and standing at attention. "Colonel," whispered Mr Solomon. "All right!" growled Ike. "Well, then, Isaac Barnes, speaking as one old soldier to another, I said words to you to-night for which I am heartily sorry. I beg your pardon." "God bless you, Colonel! If you talk to me like that arterward, you may call me what you like." "Eh?" cried Sir Francis sharply; "then I will. How dare you then, you scoundrel, go and disgrace yourself; you, an ex-British soldier--a man who has worn the king's uniform--disgrace yourself by getting drunk? Shame on you, man, shame!" "Go on, Colonel. Give it to me," growled Ike. "I desarve it." "No," said Sir Francis, smiling; "not another word; but don't let it occur again." Ike drew his right hand across one eye, and the left over the other, and gave each a flip as if to shake off a tear, as he growled something about "never no more." I hardly heard him, though, for I was trembling with agitation as I saw Sir Francis turn to me, and I knew that my turn had come. "Grant, my lad," he said quietly; "I can't tell you how hurt and sorry I felt to-night when I believed you to be mixed up with that contemptible bit of filching. There is an abundance of fruit grown here, and I should never grudge you sharing in that which you help to produce. I was the more sorry because I have been watching your progress, and I was more than satisfied: I beg your pardon too, for all that I have said. Those boys shall beg it too." He held out his hand, and I caught it eagerly in mine as I said, in choking tones. "My father was an officer and a gentleman, sir, and to be called a thief was very hard to bear." "It was, my lad; it was," he said, shaking my hand warmly. "There, there, I'll talk to you another time." I drew back, and we were leaving the room, I last, when, obeying an impulse, I ran back. "Well, my lad?" he said kindly. "I beg your pardon, Sir Francis; but you said that they should beg my pardon." "Yes," he said hotly; "and they shall." "If you please, Sir Francis," I said, "I would rather they did not." "Why, sir?" "I think they have been humbled enough." "By their own conduct?" said Sir Francis. "Yes, you are right. I will not mention it again." _ |
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