CHAPTER XXVII
WHAT MOTHER JAEL KNEW
Now, when Baltic and his grizzled head had vanished, Sir Harry mustneeds betake himself to Dr Graham for the easing of his mind. The doctorhad known the young man since he was a little lad, and on more than oneoccasion had given him that practical kind of advice which results fromexperience; therefore, when Harry was perplexed over matters too deepfor him--as he was now--he invariably sought counsel of his old friend.In the present instance--for his own sake, for the sake of Lucy andLucy's father--he told Graham the whole story of Bishop Pendle'spresumed guilt; of Baltic's mission to disprove it; and of Cargrim'sunderhanded doings. Graham listened to the details in silence, andcontented himself with a grim smile or two when Cargrim's treachery wastouched upon. When in possession of the facts, he commented firstly onthe behaviour of the chaplain.
'I always thought that the fellow was a cur!' said he, contemptuously,'and now I am certain of it.'
'Curs bite, sir,' said Brace, sententiously, 'and we must muzzle thisone else there will be the devil to pay.'
'No doubt, when Cargrim receives his wages. Well, lad, and what do youpropose doing?'
'I came to ask your advice, doctor!'
'Here it is, then. Hold your tongue and do nothing.'
'What! and leave that hound to plot against the bishop?'
'A cleverer head than yours is counter-plotting him, Brace,' warned thedoctor. 'While Cargrim, having faith in Baltic, leaves the matter of themurder in his hands, there can be no open scandal.'
Harry stared, and moodily tugged at his moustache. 'I never thought tohear you hint that the bishop was guilty,' he grumbled.
'And I,' retorted Graham, 'never thought to hear a man of your sensemake so silly a speech. The bishop is innocent; I'll stake my life onthat. Nevertheless, he has a secret, and if there is a scandal aboutthis murder, the secret--whatever it is--may become public property.'
'Humph! that is to be avoided certainly. But the secret can be nothingharmful.'
'If it were not,' replied Graham, drily, 'Pendle would not take suchpains to conceal it. People don't pay two hundred pounds for nothingharmful, my lad.'
'Do you believe that the money was paid?'
'Yes, on Southberry Heath, shortly before the murder. And what is more,'added Graham, warmly, 'I believe that the assassin knew that Jentham hadreceived the money, and shot him to obtain it.'
'If that is so,' argued Harry, 'the assassin would no doubt wish to takethe benefit of his crime and use the money. If he did, the numbers ofthe notes being known, they would be traced, whereas--'
'Whereas Baltic, who got the numbers from the bank, has not yet had timeto trace them. Wait, Brace, wait! Time, in this matter, may workwonders.'
'But, doctor, do you trust Baltic?'
'Yes, my friend, I always trust fanatics in their own particular line ofmonomania. Besides, for all his religious craze, Baltic appears to be ashrewd man; also he is a silent one, so if anyone can carry the matterthrough judiciously, he is the person.'
'What about Cargrim?'
'Leave him alone, lad; with sufficient rope he'll surely hang himself.'
'Shouldn't the bishop be warned, doctor?'
'I think not. If we watch Cargrim and trust Baltic we shall be able toprotect Pendle from the consequences of his folly.'
'Folly! What folly?'
'The folly of having a secret. Only women should have secrets, for theyalone know how to keep them.'
'Everyone is of the opposite opinion,' said Brace, with a grin.
'And, as usual, everyone is wrong,' retorted Graham. 'Do you think Ihave been a doctor all these years and don't know the sex?--that is, sofar as a man may know them. You take my word for it, Brace, that a womanknows how to hold her tongue. It is a popular fallacy to suppose thatshe doesn't. You try and get a secret out of a woman which she thinks isworth keeping, and see how you'll fare. She will laugh, and talk andlie, and tell you everything--except what you want to know. Whatstrength is to a man, cunning is to a woman. They are the potters, weare the clay, and--and--and my discourse is as discursive as that ofPraed's vicar,' finished the doctor, with a dry chuckle.
'It has led us a long way from the main point,' agreed Harry, 'and thatis--what is Dr Pendle's secret?'
Graham shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. 'You ask more than Ican tell you,' he said sadly. 'Whatever it is, Pendle intends to keep itto himself. All we can do is to trust Baltic.'
'Well, doctor,' said Harry, taking a reluctant leave, for he wished tothresh out the matter into absolute chaff, 'you know best, so I shallfollow your advice.'
'I am glad of that,' was Graham's reply. 'My time is too valuable to bewasted.'
While this conversation was taking place, Baltic was walking brisklyacross the brown heath, in the full blaze of the noonday. A mercilesssun flamed like a furnace in the cloudless sky; and over the vastexpanse of dry burnt herbage lay a veil of misty, tremulous heat. Everypool of water flashed like a mirror in the sun-rays; the drone of myriadinsects rose from the ground; the lark's clear music rained down fromthe sky; and the ex-sailor, trudging along the white and dusty highway,almost persuaded himself that he was back in some tropical land, lessgorgeous, but quite as sultry, as the one he had left. The day wasfitter for mid June rather than late September.
Baltic made so much concession to the unusual weather as to drape hisred handkerchief over his head and place his Panama hat on top of it;but he still wore the thick pilot suit, buttoned up tightly, and steppedout smartly, as though he were a salamander impervious to heat. With hislong arms swinging by his side, his steady, grey eyes observant of allaround him, he rolled on, in true nautical style, towards the gipsycamp. This was not hard to discover, for it lay only a mile or so fromSouthberry Junction, some little distance off the main road. Themissionary saw a huddle of caravans, a few straying horses, a cluster oftawny, half-clad children rioting in the sunshine; and knowing that thiswas his port of call, he stepped off the road on to the grass, and madedirectly for the encampment. He had a warrant for Mother Jael's arrestin his pocket, but save himself there was no one to execute it, and itmight be difficult to take the old woman in charge when she was--so tospeak--safe in the heart of her kingdom. However, Baltic regarded thewarrant only as a means to an end, and did not intend to use it, otherthan as a bogey to terrify Mother Jael into confession. He trusted moreto his religiosity and persuasive capabilities than to the power of thelaw. Nevertheless, being practical as well as sentimental, he was gladto have the warrant in case of need; for it was possible that aheathenish witch like Mother Jael might fear man more than God. Finally,Baltic had some experience of casting religious pearls before paganswine, and therefore was discreet in his use of spiritual remedies.
Dogs barked and children screeched when Baltic stepped into the circleformed by caravans and tents; and several swart, sinewy, gipsy mendarted threatening glances at him as an intrusive stranger. There burneda fire near one of the caravans, over which was slung a kettle, swingingfrom a tripod of iron, and this was filled with some savoury stew, whichsent forth appetising odours. A dark, handsome girl, with goldenearrings, and a yellow handkerchief twisted picturesquely round herblack hair, was the cook, and she turned to face Baltic with a scowlwhen he inquired for Mother Jael. Evidently the Gentiles were nofavourites in the camp of these outcasts, for the men lounging aboutmurmured, the women tittered and sneered, and the very children spat outevil words in the Romany language. But Baltic, used to black skins andblack looks, was not daunted by this inhospitable reception, and ingrave tones repeated his inquiry for the sibyl.
'Who are you, juggel-mush?'[A] asked a sinister-looking Hercules.
[A] Juggel-mush: a dog-man.
'I am one who wishes to see Mother Jael,' replied Baltic, in his deepvoice.
'Arromali!'[B] sneered the Cleopatra-like cook. 'She has more to do thanto see every cheating, choring Gentile.'
[B] Arromali: truly.
'Give me money, my r
oyal master,' croaked a frightful cripple. 'My ownlittle purse is empty.'
'Oh, what a handsome Gorgio!' whined a hag, interspersing her speechwith curses. '(May evil befall him!) Good luck for gold, dearie. (I spiton your corpse, Gentile!) Charity! Charity!'
A girl seated on the steps of a caravan cracked her fingers, andspitting three times for the evil eye, burst into a song:--
'With my kissings and caressings I can gain gold from the Gentiles; But to evil change my blessings.'
All this clatter and clamour of harsh voices, mouthing the wild gipsies'jargon, had no effect on Baltic. Seeing that he could gain nothing fromthe mocking crowd, he pushed back one or two, who seemed disposed to beaffectionate with a view to robbing his pockets, and shouted loudly,'Mother Jael! Mother Jael!' till the place rang with his roaring.
Before the gipsies could recover from their astonishment at this suddenchange of front, a dishevelled grey head was poked out from one of theblack tents, and a thin high voice piped, 'Dearie! lovey! Mother Jael behere!'
'I thought I would bring you out of your burrow,' said Baltic, grimly,as he strode towards her; 'in with you again, old Witch of Endor, andlet me follow.'
'Hindity-Mush!'[C] growled one or two, but the appearance of MotherJael, and a few words from her, sent the whole gang back to their idlingand working; while Baltic, quite undisturbed, dropped on all fours andcrawled into the black tent, at the tail of the hag. She croaked out awelcome to her visitor, and squatting on a tumbled mattress, leered athim like a foul old toad. Baltic sat down near the opening of the tent,so as to get as much fresh air as possible, and also to watch MotherJael's face by the glimmer of light which crept in. Spreading hishandsome handkerchief on his knee, according to custom, and placing hishat thereon, he looked straightly at the old hag, and spoke slowly.
[C] Hindity-Mush: a dirty creature.
'Do you know why I am here, old woman?' he demanded.
'Yes, dearie, yes! Ain't it yer forting as y' wan's tole? Oh, my prettyone, you asks ole mother for a fair future! I knows! I knows!'
'You know wrong then!' retorted Baltic, coolly. 'I am one who has nodealings with witches and familiar spirits. I ask you to tell me, not myfortune--which lies in the hand of the Almighty--but the name of the manwho murdered the creature Jentham.'
Mother Jael made an odd whistling sound, and her cunning old face becameas expressionless as a mask. In a second, save for her wicked blackeyes, which smouldered like two sparks of fire under her drooping lids,she became a picture of stupidity and senility. 'Bless 'ee, my prettymaster, I knows nought; all I knows I told the Gentiles yonder,' and thehag pointed a crooked finger in the direction of Beorminster.
'Mother of the witches, you lie!' cried Baltic, in very good Romany.
The eyes of Mother Jael blazed up like torches at the sound of thefamiliar tongue, and she eyed the weather-beaten face of Baltic with anamazement too genuine to be feigned. 'Duvel!' said she, in a high key ofastonishment, 'who is this Gorgio who patters with the gab of a gentleRomany?'
'I am a brother of the tribe, my sister.'
'No gipsy, though,' said the hag, in the black language. 'You have notthe glossy eye of the true Roman.'
'No Roman am I, my sister, save by adoption. As a lad I left theGentiles' roof for the merry tent of Egypt, and for many years I calledLovels and Stanleys my blood-brothers.'
'Then why come you with a double face, little child?' croaked thebeldam, who knew that Baltic was speaking the truth from his knowledgeof the gipsy tongue. 'As a Gentile I would speak no word, but my brotheryou are, and as my brother you shall know.'
'Know who killed Jentham!' said Baltic, hastily.
'Of a truth, brother. But call him not Jentham, for he was of Pharaoh'sblood.'
'A gipsy, mother, or only a Romany rye?'
'Of the old blood, of the true blood, of our religion verily, mybrother. One of the Lovels he was, who left our merry life to eat withGorgios and fiddle gold out of their pockets.'
'He called himself Amaru then, did he not?' said Baltic, who had heardthis much from Cargrim, to whom it had filtered from Miss Whichellothrough Tinkler.
'It is so, brother. Amaru he called himself, and Jentham and Creagth,and a dozen other names when cheating and choring the Gentiles. But aBosvile he was born, and a Bosvile he died.'
'That is just it!' said Baltic, in English, for he grew weary of usingthe gipsy language, in which, from disuse, he was no great proficient.'How did he die?'
'He was shot, lovey,' replied Mother Jael, relapsing also into thevulgar tongue; 'shot, dearie, on this blessed common.'
'Who shot him?'
'Job! my noble rye, I can't say. Jentham, he come 'ere to patter thecalo jib and drink with us. He said as he had to see some Gentile onthat night! La! la! la!' she piped thinly, 'an evil night for him!'
'On Sunday night--the night he was killed?'
'Yes, pretty one. The Gorgio was to give him money for somethin' heknowed.'
'Who was the Gorgio?'
'I don' know, lovey! I don' know!'
'What was the secret, then?' asked Baltic, casting round forinformation.
'Bless 'ee, my tiny! Jentham nivir tole me. An' I was curis to know, mydove, so when he walks away half-seas over I goes too. I follows, lovey,I follow, but I nivir did cotch him up, fur rain and storm comed mos'dreful.'
'Did you not see him on that night, then?'
'Sight of my eyes, I sawr 'im dead. I 'eard a shot, and I run, and run,dearie, fur I know'd as 'e 'ad no pistol; but I los' m'way, my royalrye, and it was ony when th' storm rolled off as I foun' 'im. He waslyin' in a ditch. Such was his grave,' continued Mother Jael, speakingin her own tongue, 'water and grass and storm-clouds above, brother. Iwas afraid to touch him, afraid to wait, as these Gentiles might think Ihad slain the man. I got back into the road, I did, and there I pickedup this, which I brought to the camp with me. But I never showed it tothe police, brother, for I feared the Gentile jails.'
This proved to be a neat little silver-mounted pistol which Mother Jaelfished out from the interior of the mattress. Baltic balanced it in hishand, and believing, as was surely natural, that Jentham had been killedwith this weapon, he examined it carefully.
'G. P.,' said he, reading the initials graven on the silver shield ofthe butt.
'Ah!' chuckled Mother Jael, hugging herself. 'George Pendle that is,lovey. But which of 'em, my tender dove--the father or the son?'
'Humph!' remarked Baltic, meditatively, 'they are both called George.'
'But they ain't both called murderer, my brother. George Pendle shotthat Bosvile sure enough, an' ef y'arsk me, dearie, it was the son--thecaptain--the sodger. Ah, that it was!'