CHAPTER XII.
A FOOL'S ERRAND.
Mr. John Mockham was a short stout man, about five or six and fortyyears of age, ruddy, kind-hearted, and jocular. He thought very highlyof Jemmy Fox, both as a man and a doctor; moreover he had been a guestat Foxden, several times, and had met with the greatest hospitality. Butfor all that, he doubted not a little, in his heart--though his tonguewas not allowed to know it--concerning the young doctor's innocence ofthis most atrocious outrage. He bore in mind how the good and gentlemother had bemoaned (while Jemmy was in turn-down collars) the very sadperversity of his mind, towards anything bony and splintery. Nothingcould keep him from cutting up, even when his thumb was done round withoozing rag, anything jointed or cellular; and the smell of the bones hecollected was dreadful, even in the drawer where his frilled shirts werelaid.
The time was not come yet, and happily shall never--in spite of allmorbid suisection--when a man shall anatomise his own mind, and traceevery film of its histology. Squire Mockham would have laughed any oneto scorn, who had dared to suggest, that in the process of his brain,there was any connexion of the frills in Jemmy's drawer with theblacksmith's description of what he had seen; and yet without hisknowledge, it may even have been so. But whatever his opinion on thesubject was, he did not refuse to see this young friend; although he wasentertaining guests, and the evening was now far advanced.
Fox was shown into the library, by a very pale footman, who glanced atthe visitor, as if he feared instant dissection, and evidently longed tolock him in. "Is it come to this already?" thought poor Fox.
"Excuse me for not asking you to join us in there," Mr. Mockham beganrather stiffly, as he pointed to the dining-room; "but I thought youmight wish to see me privately."
"I care not how it is. I have come to you, as a Magistrate, and--and--""an old friend of the family," was what he meant to say, butsubstituted--"as a gentleman, and a sensible and clear-sighted one, toreceive my deposition on oath, concerning the wicked lies spread abroadabout me."
"Of what use will it be? The proper course is for you to wait, till theother side move in the matter; and then prove your innocence, ifpossible; and then proceed against them."
"That is to say, I am to lie, for six months, perhaps twelve months,under this horrible imputation, and be grateful for escaping at lastfrom it! I see that even you are half inclined to think me guilty."
"All this to a Magistrate is quite improper. It happens that I haveresolved not to act, to take no share in any proceedings that mayfollow; on account of my acquaintance with your family. But that youcould not know, until I told you. I am truly sorry for you; but you musteven bear it."
"You say that so calmly, because you think I deserve it. Now as you arenot going to act in the matter, and have referred to your friendshipwith my family, I will tell you a little thing in confidence, which willprove to you at once that I am innocent--that I never could by anypossibility have done it."
Before Mr. Mockham could draw back, the visitor had whispered a fewwords in his ear, which entirely changed the whole expression of hisface.
"Well, I am surprised! I had no idea of it. How could that fool Cranghave made such a mistake? But I saw from first how absurd it was, tolisten to such fellows. I refused to give a warrant. I said that noconnexion could be shown, between the two occurrences. How strange thatI should have hit the mark so well! But I seem to have that luckgenerally. Well, I am pleased, for your dear mother's sake, as well asyour own, Master Jemmy. There may be a lot of trouble; but you must keepyour heart up, and the winning card is yours. After all, what a thing itis to be a doctor!"
"Not so very fine, unless your nature drives you into it. And everybodythinks you make the worst of him, to exalt your blessed self. So theycame for a warrant against me, did they? Is it lawful to ask who theywere?"
"To be sure it is, my boy. Everybody has a right to that piece ofinformation. Tapscott was the man that came to swear--strong reason forbelieving, etc., with two or three witnesses, all from your parish;Crang among the others, hauled in by the neck, and each foremost in hisown opinion. But Crang wanted to be last, for he kept on shouting, thatif he had to swear against Doctor Jemmy, the Lord would know that henever meant it. This of course made it all the worse for your case; andevery one was grieved, yet gratified. You are too young to know thenoise, which the newspapers begin to call 'public opinion,'--worthabout as much as a blue-bottle's buzz, and as eager to pitch uponnastiness. I refused a warrant--as my duty was. Even if the blacksmith'stale was true--and there was no doubt that he believed it--what legalconnexion could they show betwixt that, and the matter at thechurchyard? In a case of urgency, and risk of disappearance of thesuspected person, I might have felt bound to grant it. But I knew thatyou would stand it out; and unless they could show any othersimplicated, their application was premature."
"Then, unless you had ventured to stem the I tide, I suppose that Ishould have been arrested, when I came back to-day from my father'ssick-bed. A pretty state of law, in this free country!"
"The law is not to blame. It must act promptly, in cases of strongsuspicion. Probably they will apply to-morrow, to some youngermagistrate. But your father is ill? How long have you been with him?They made a great deal out of your disappearance."
"My father has had a paralytic stroke. I trust that he will get over it;and I have left him in excellent hands. But to hear of this would killhim. His mind is much weakened, of course; and he loves me. I had noidea that he cared much for me. I thought he only cared for my sister."
"Excuse me for a moment. I must go to my guests;" Mr. Mockham perceivedthat the young man was overcome for the moment, and would rather bealone. "I will make it all right with them, and be back directly."
Fox was an active, and resolute young fellow, with great powers ofendurance, as behoved a man of medicine. Honest indignation, and strongsense of injustice, had stirred up his energy for some hours; but sincelast Thursday night he had slept very little, and the whole waking timehad been worry and exertion. So that now when he was left alone, and hadno foe to fire at, bodily weariness began to tell upon him, and he fellback in an easy chair into a peaceful slumber.
When the guests had all departed, and the Magistrate came back, hestopped short for a moment, with a broad smile on his face, and feltproud of his own discretion, in refusing to launch any criminal processagainst this trustful visitor. For the culprit of the outcry looked soplacid, gentle, good-natured, and forgiving--with the natural expressionrestored by deep oblivion--that a woman would have longed to kiss hisforehead, if she had known of his terrible mishap.
"I have brought you a little drop of cordial, Master Jemmy. I am sureyou must want something good, to keep you up." Mr. Mockham put aspirit-stand and glass upon the table, as Fox arose, and shook himself.
"That is very kind of you. But I never take spirits, though I prescribethem sometimes for old folk when much depressed. But a glass of your oldport wine, sir, would help me very much--if I am not giving you a lot oftrouble."
"You shall have a glass, almost as good as your father has given me.There it is! How sorry I am to hear about his illness! But I will dowhat he would have wished. I will talk to you as a friend, and one whoknows the world better than you can. First, however, you must forgiveme, for my vile suspicions. They were founded partly on your goodmother's account of your early doings. And I have known certaininstances of the zeal of your Profession, how in the name of science andthe benefits to humanity--but I won't go on about that just now. Thequestion is, how shall we clear you to the world? The fact that Idoubted you, is enough to show what others are likely to conclude.Unluckily the story has had three days' start, and has fallen uponfruitful ground. Your brother doctors about here are doing their best toclench the nail"--Mr. Mockham, like almost everybody else, was apt tomix metaphors in talking--"by making lame excuses for you, instead ofattempting to deny it."
"Such fellows as Jervis Jackson, I suppose. Several of them hate me,because I am not a humbug. P
erhaps they will get up a testimonial to me,for fear there should be any doubt of my guilt."
"That is the very thing they talk of doing. How well you understandthem, my young friend! Now, what have you to show, against this generalconclusion? For of course you cannot mention what you confessed to me."
"I can just do this--I can prove an alibi. You forget that I can showwhere I have been, and prove the receipt of the letter, which compelledme to leave home. Surely that will convince everybody, who has a fairmind. And for the rest, what do I care?"
"I don't see exactly what to say to that." Mr. Mockham was beginning tofeel tired also, after going through all his best stories to his guests."But what says Cicero, or some other fellow that old Dr. Richards usedto drive into my skin? 'To neglect what everyone thinks of oneself, isthe proof not only of an arrogant, but even of a dissolute man.' You areneither of these. You must contend with it, and confound your foes; orelse run away. And upon the whole, as you don't belong here, but up thecountry--as we call it--and your father wants your attention, the wisestthing you can do is, to bolt."
"Would you do that, if it were your own case?" Fox had not muchknowledge of Squire Mockham, except as a visitor at his father's house;and whether he should respect, or despise him, depended upon the answer.
"I would see them all d----d first;" the Magistrate replied, looking asif he would be glad to do it; "but that is because I am a Devonshireman. You are over the border; and not to be blamed."
"Well, there are some things one cannot get over," Dr. Jemmy answered,with a pleasant smile; "and the worst of them all is, to be born outsideof Devon. If I had been of true Devonshire birth, I believe you wouldnever have held me guilty."
"Others may take that view; but I do not;" said the Magistrate verymagnanimously. "It would have been better for you, no doubt. But we arenot narrow-minded. And your mother was a Devonshire woman, connectedwith our oldest families. No, no, the question is now of evidence; andthe law does not recognise the difference. The point is--to prove thatyou were really away."
"Outside the holy county, where this outrage was committed? Foxden isthirty miles from Perlycross, even by the shortest cuts, and nearerthirty-five, to all who are particular about good roads. I was at myfather's bed-side, some minutes before ten o'clock, on Saturdaymorning."
"That is not enough to show. We all know in common sense, that the ridewould have taken at least four hours. Probably more, over those badroads, in the darkness of a November morning. The simplest thing will befor you to tell me the whole of your movements, on the night of thisaffair."
"That I will, as nearly as I can remember; though I had no reason then,for keeping any special record. To begin with--I was at the funeral ofcourse, and saw you there, but did not cross over to speak to you. ThenI walked home to the Old Barn where I live, which stands as you know atthe foot of Hagdon Hill. It was nearly dark then, perhaps half-pastfive; and I felt out of spirits, and sadly cut up, for I was very fondof Sir Thomas. I sat thinking of him for an hour or so; and then Ichanged my clothes for riding togs, and had a morsel of cold beef and apipe, and went to look for the boy that brings my letters; for oldWalker, the postman, never comes near the Barn. There was no sign of theboy, so I saddled _Old Rock_--for my man was 'keeping funeral' still, asthey express it--and I rode to North-end, the furthest corner of theparish, to see to a little girl, who has had a dangerous attack ofcroup. Then I crossed Maiden Down by the gravel-pits, to see an oldstager at Old Bait, who abuses me every time, and expects a shilling.Then homewards through Priestwell, and knocked at Gronow's door, havinga general permission to come in at night. But he was not at home, or didnot want to be disturbed; so I lost very little time by that. It musthave been now at least nine o'clock, with the moon in the south-west,and getting very cold; but I had managed to leave my watch on thedrawers, when I pulled my mourning clothes off.
"From Priestwell, I came back to Perlycross, and was going straight hometo see about my letters--for I knew that my father had been slightly outof sorts, when I saw a man waiting at the cross-roads for me, to saythat I was wanted at the Whetstone-pits; for a man had tumbled down ahole, and broken both his legs. Without asking the name, I put spurs to_Old Rock_, and set off at a spanking pace for the Whetstone-pits,expecting to find the foreman there, to show me where it was. It is along roundabout way from our village, at least, for any one onhorseback, though not more than three miles perhaps in a straight line,because you have to go all round the butt of Hagdon Hill, which no onewould think of riding over in the dark. I should say it must be fivemiles at least, from our cross-roads."
"Every yard of that distance," says the Magistrate, who was followingthe doctor's tale intently, and making notes in his pocket-book; "fivemiles at least, and road out of repair. Your parish ought to beindicted."
"Very well. _Old Rock_ was getting rather tired. A better horse neverlooked through a bridle; but he can't be less than sixteen years of age.My father had him eight years, and I have had him three; and even for aman with both legs broken, I could not drive a willing horse to death.However, we let no grass grow beneath our feet; and dark as the laneswere, and wonderfully rough, even for this favoured county, I got to thepit at the corner of the hill, as soon as a man could get there, withoutbreaking his neck."
"In that case he never would get there at all."
"Perhaps not. Or at least, not in working condition. Well, you know whata queer sort of place it is. I had been there before, about a year ago.But then it was daylight; and that makes all the difference. I am not sovery fidgetty where I go, when I know that a man is in agony; but how toget along there in the dark, with the white grit up to my horse's knees,and black pines barring out the moonshine, was--I don't mind confessingit--a thing beyond me. And the strangest thing of all was, that nobodycame near me. I had the whole place to myself; so far as I couldsee--and I did not want it.
"I sat on _Old Rock_; and I had to sit close; for the old beauty'sspirit was up, in spite of all his weariness. His hunting days came tohis memory perhaps; and you should have seen how he jumped about. At therisk of his dear old bones of course; but a horse is much pluckier thanwe are. What got into his old head, who shall say? But I failed to seethe fun of it, as he did. There was all the white stuff, that comes outof the pits, like a great cascade of diamonds, glittering in the levelmoonlight, with broad bars of black thrown across it by the pines, alltrembling, and sparkling, and seeming to move.
"Those things tell upon a man somehow, and he seems to have no right todisturb them. But I felt that I was not brought here for nothing, andbegan to get vexed at seeing nobody. So I set up a shout, with a hand tomy mouth, and then a shrill whistle between my nails. The echo cameback, very punctually; but nothing else, except a little gliding of theshale, and shivering of black branches. Then I jumped off my horse, andmade him fast to a tree, and scrambled along the rough bottom of thehill.
"There are eight pits on the south side, and seven upon the north,besides the three big ones at the west end of the hill, which are prettywell worked out, according to report. Their mouths are pretty nearly ata level, about a hundred and fifty feet below the chine of hill. But thetumbledown--I forget what the proper name is--the excavated waste, thatcomes down, like a great beard, to the foot where the pine-trees stopit--"
"_Brekkles_ is their name for it;" interrupted Mr. Mockham; "_brekkles_,or _brokkles_--I am not sure which. You know they are a colony ofCornishmen."
"Yes, and a strange outlandish lot, having nothing to do with the peoplearound, whenever they can help it. It is useless for any man to seekwork there. They push him down the brekkles--if that is what they callthem. However, they did not push me down, although I made my way up tothe top, when I had shouted in vain along the bottom. I could not get upthe stuff itself; I knew better than to make the trial. But Icircumvented them at the further end; and there I found a sort ofterrace, where a cart could get along from one pit-mouth to another. Andfrom mouth to mouth, I passed along this rough and stony gallery, undert
he furzy crest of hill, without discovering a sign of life, while thelow moon across the broad western plains seemed to look up, rather thandown at me. Into every black pit-mouth, broad or narrow, bratticed withtimber or arched with flint, I sent a loud shout, but the only reply waslike the dead murmuring of a shell. And yet all the time, I feltsomehow, as if I were watched by invisible eyes, as a man upon a cliffis observed from the sea.
"This increased my anger, which was rising at the thought that some onehad made a great fool of me; and forgetting all the ludicrous side ofthe thing--as a man out of temper is apt to do--I mounted the mostconspicuous pile at the end of the hill, and threw up my arms, andshouted to the moon, 'Is this the way to treat a doctor?'
"The distant echoes answered--'Doctor! Doctor!' as if they wereconferring a degree upon me; and that made me laugh, and grow rationalagain, and resolved to have one more try, instead of giving in. So Iclimbed upon a ridge, where I could see along the chine, through patchesof white among the blackness of the furze; and in the distance thereseemed to be a low fire smouldering. For a moment I doubted about goingon, for I have heard that these people are uncommonly fierce, with anyone they take for a spy upon them; and here I was entirely at theirmercy. But whenever I have done a cowardly thing, I have always beenmiserable afterwards; and so I went cautiously forward towards the fire,with a sharp look-out, and my hunting-crop ready. Suddenly a man rose infront of me, almost as if he jumped out of the ground, a wild-lookingfellow, stretching out both arms. I thought I was in for a nasty sort offight, and he seemed a very ugly customer. But he only stepped back, andmade some enquiry, so far as I could gather from his tone, for his wordswere beyond my intelligence.
"Then I told him who I was, and what had brought me there; and hetouched his rough hat, and seemed astonished. He had not the leastdifficulty in making out my meaning; but I could not return thecompliment. 'Naw hoort along o' yussen'--was his nearest approach toEnglish; which I took to mean--'no accident among us;' and I saw by hisgestures that he meant this. In spite of some acquaintance with theMendip miners, and pretty fair mastery of their brogue, this Whetstonerwent beyond my linguistic powers, and I was naturally put out with him.Especially when in reply to my conclusion that I had been made a foolof, he answered 'yaw, yaw,' as if the thing was done with the greatestease, and must be familiar to me. But, in his rough style, he wasparticularly civil, as if he valued our Profession, and was sorry thatany one should play with it. He seemed to have nothing whatever toconceal; and so far as I could interpret, he was anxious to entertain meas his guest, supposing that time permitted it. But I showed him wheremy horse was, and he led me to him by a better way, and helped me withhim, and declined the good shilling which I offered him. This made meconsider him a superior sort of fellow; though to refuse a shillingshows neglected education.
"When I got back to the Ancient Barn--as I call my place, because it isin reality nothing else--it was two o'clock in the morning, and all myauthorities were locked in slumber. George was on a truss of hay up inthe tallat, making more noise than Perle-weir in a flood, although withless melody in it; and old Betty was under her 'Mark, Luke, andJohn'--as they called the four-poster, when one is gone. So I let them'bide, as you would say; gave _Old Rock_ a mash myself, because he wascoughing; and went in pretty well tired, I can assure you, to get a bitof bread and cheese, and then embrace the downy.
"But there on my table was a letter from my mother; which I ought tohave received before I started; but the funeral had even thrown the Postout, it appears. I don't believe that my boy was at all to blame. Butyou know what Walker the Postman is, when anything of interest ismoving. He simply stands still, to see the end of it; sounding his hornevery now and again, to show his right to look over other folk's heads.Every one respects him, because he walks so far. Thirty miles a day, byhis own account; but it must be eighteen, even when he gets no beer."
"A worthy old soul!" said the Magistrate. "And he had a lot of troubles,last winter. Nobody likes to complain, on that account. He is welcome toget his peck of nuts upon the road, and to sell them next day atPumpington, to eke out his miserable wages. But this is an age ofprogress; and a strict line must be drawn some where. The Post isimportant sometimes, as you know; though we pay so many eightpences, fornothing. Why, my friends were saying, only this very evening, thatWalker must submit henceforth to a rule to keep him out of the coppices.When he once gets there, all his sense of time is gone. And people arenow so impatient."
"But the nutting-time is over, and he has not that excuse. He must havebeen four hours late on Friday, and no doubt he was as happy as ever.But to me it would have made all the difference; for I should havestarted that evening for Foxden. My mother's letter begged me to come atonce; for she feared that my father would never speak again. There hadbeen some little trifles between us; as I don't mind telling you, whoare acquainted with the family. No doubt I was to blame; and you maysuppose, how much I was cut up by this sad news. It was folly to startin that tangle of cross-lanes, with the moon gone down, and my horseworn out. I threw myself down upon my bed, and sobbed, as I thought ofall the best parts of the Governor.
"What a fool a man is, when a big blow falls upon him. For two or threehours, I must have lain like that, as if all the world were in leagueagainst me, and nothing to be done but feel helpless, and rebel. I knewthat there was no horse near the place, to be hired for the ride toFoxden, even if the owner could be fetched out of his bed. And all thetime, I was forgetting the young mare that I had bought about a monthago--a sweet little thing, but not thoroughly broken, and I did not meanto use her much, until the Spring. She was loose in a straw-run at thetop of my home-meadow, with a nice bit of aftermath still pretty fresh,and a feed of corn at night, which I generally took to her myself. Nowshe came to the gate, and whinnied for me, because she had beenforgotten; and hearing the sound I went downstairs, and lit a lantern togo to the corn-bin. But she had better have gone without her supper, forI said to myself--why not try her? It was a long way for a young thingjust off grass; but if only she would take me to the great London road,I might hire on, if she became distressed.
"Of course I went gently and carefully at first, for I found her alittle raw and bridle-shy; but she carried me beautifully, when thedaylight came, and would have gone like a bird, if I had let her. Shewill make a rare trotter, in my opinion, and I only gave fifteen poundsfor her. I would not look at fifty now, after the style she brought meback--a mouth like a French kid-glove, and the kindest of the kind."
"You deserve a good horse, because you treat them well, Jemmy. But whatabout your good father?"
"Well, sir, thank God, he is in no danger now; but he must be kept veryquiet. If he were to hear of this lying tale, it might be fatal to him.And even my mother must not know it. Your Exeter paper never goes thatway; but the Bristol ones might copy it. My only sister, Christie, is awonderful girl, very firm, and quick, and sensible. Some say that shehas got more sense than I have; though I don't quite see it. I shallwrite to her to-morrow, just to put her upon guard, with a line for Dr.Freeborn too--my father's old friend and director, who knows exactly howto treat him. What a rage they will be in, when they hear of this! Butthey will keep it as close as a limpet. Now what do you advise me to do,about myself?"
"You must look it in the face, like a man, of course; though it isenough to sour you for life almost, after all your good works among thepoor."
"No fear of that, sir. It is the way of the world. 'Fair before fierce'is my family motto; and I shall try to act up to it. Though I daresay mytemper will give out sometimes, especially with brother pill-box."
"You take it much better than I should, I fear;" Mr. Mockham spoke thetruth in this; "you know that I will do my utmost for you; and if youkeep your head, you will tide over this, and be the idol of all who haveabused you--I mean, who have abused you honestly. You seem to have solidstuff inside you, as is natural to your father's son. But it will take alot out of your life; and it seems very hard upon a fine young fellow.Esp
ecially after what you have told me. Things will be very black there;as you must see."
"Certainly they will. But I am not a boy. I know a noble nature, when Icome across it. And if ever there was--but I won't go on with that. Ifshe believes in me, I am content, whatever the low world may say. I havenever been romantic."
"I am not at all sure of that, my boy. But I felt that sort of wildness,before I was married. Now let me put one or two questions to you; justto get up your case, as if I was your Counsel. Did any of your people atthe Old Barn see you, after your return from the Whetstone Pits?"
"Not one, to my knowledge. My household is small, in that ramshackleplace. Old Betty upstairs, and George over the stables, and the boy whogoes home to his mother at night. I have only those three in thedomestic line, except upon great occasions. Old Betty was snoring in herbed, George doing the like upon a truss of hay, and the boy of courseoff the premises. They must have found in the morning that I had beenthere, but without knowing when, or how long I stayed."
"That is most unlucky. Did you pass near the church? Did you meet anypeople who would know you, anywhere between midnight and morning?"
"Neither man, woman, nor child did I see, from the time I left theWhetstone Hill, until I passed Perlycombe next morning. It was eithertoo late, or too early, for our very quiet folk to be stirring."
"Bad again. Very bad. You cannot show your whereabouts, during any partof the critical time. I suppose you would know the man on the WhetstoneHill; but that was too early to help you much. The man at thecross-roads--would you know him?"
"Not to be certain. He kept in the shadow, and spoke as if he were shortof breath. And the message was so urgent, that I never stopped toexamine him."
"Very little comfort anywhere. Is it usual for Dr. Gronow to be fromhome at night?"
Mr. Mockham put this question abruptly, and pronounced the Doctor'sname, as if he did not love him.
"Not very usual. But I have known it happen. He is wild about fishing,though he cannot fish a bit; and he sometimes goes late to hisnight-lines."
"He would scarcely have night-lines laid in November, however big apoacher he may be. Betwixt you and me, Jemmy, in the very strictestconfidence, I believe he is at the bottom of all this."
"I will answer for it, that he is not. In the first place, he is agentleman, though rough in his manners, and very odd. And again he hadno motive--none whatever. He has given up his practice, and cares morefor Walton and Cotton, than for all the Hunterian Museum. And he knew,as well as I do, the nature of the case. No, sir, you must not suspecthim for a moment."
"Well, then it must be that man--I forget his name--who was staying withMr. Penniloe. A very sarcastic, unpleasant fellow, as several peoplesaid who spoke to him. He would take good care to leave no trace. Helooked as crafty as Old Nick himself. It will never be found out, ifthat man did it. No, no, Jemmy, don't attempt to argue. It must be oneof you three. It is neither you, nor Gronow; then it must be thatHarrison Gowler."