CHAPTER VIII
THE PANIC OF A CARPET MANUFACTURER
In the spacious library of Mr. Jasper Jarman's house, "Holmstrand," ina respectable suburb of Kidderminster, the wealthy carpet manufacturerwas sitting at his ease. On a tiny table drawn up to the fire stood asilver coffee service and a small decanter of brandy. Across his kneelay the unopened copy of the _Midland Echo_ which had just beendelivered.
Indifferently he took it up and turned to the market reports, readingthe comments from the London correspondent through carefully. Then heread half a report of a divorce case, then--he read the paragraph thathad caused his nephew by marriage to laugh for ten minutes in the UnionHotel at Penzance.
But the news that the flower of Scotland Yard were following up with akeen interest the movements of himself, Jasper Jarman, and his wifesince their eventful departure from Adderbury Cottage was notcalculated to draw a like explosion of mirth from the elderly gentlemantaking his after-dinner ease in his library at "Holmstrand." PerhapsMr. Jasper Jarman was deficient in his sense of humour.
He skimmed through the account hurriedly, then starting up from hisleather arm-chair he walked to the door and turned the key. For somereason for which he would have found it difficult to account he walkedon tiptoe. Then he took the paper, and standing under the cluster ofelectric bulbs that hung from the centre of the ceiling, he read thereport again, carefully this time, assimilating every point.
Then he put the _Midland Echo_ on the fire and watched it crumble awayinto ashes, continuing to stand there upon the hearthrug deep inthought.
There were many aspects of the position in which he found himself thathe alone could see. At first it seemed best to him that he should goto the police and explain to them fully the part he had taken in theaffair. But then it was hardly creditable for him to associate himselfin so scandalous a matter or to admit such a person as Edward Povey,who to his mind was clearly a guilty person, as a relative. Besides,his story might not be believed.
Inspector Melton, too, would make it as hot as he could for him. Hewas not likely to forget that Councillor Jarman had voted against theproposed increase of salary for the hard-worked police official. Hegrew cold and hot by turns, too, as he thought of the handle he wasgiving to his opponent in the forthcoming parliamentary election, inwhich he, Jasper Jarman, had been persuaded to stand in the interestsof Free Trade.
He remembered with a pang the affair of a fire which had taken place athis warehouse a year since. The insurance company involved had beenintroduced to him by his nephew, and had been curiously unenthusiasticin settling his claim.
To be mixed up in any police court affair with Povey would be to openthe question again. The company had been hard hit and had refused torenew his policy, and Jasper felt sure they would not let pass anychance to get even with him.
There were also some things in the past life of the carpet manufacturerwhich caused him to shun any chance of cross-examination. There was aman who had invented a new shuttle (a machine from which Jasper hadmade thousands), who was now living in poverty in the slums ofKidderminster, swearing revenge against the man who had sucked hisbrain and reaped the reward of his labours.
The more he thought, the more a blind and unreasoning panic seized thesoul of the carpet manufacturer. Any connection with Povey would causemuch dirty water to be stirred up. Better far, he told himself, toleave the country until the affair had blown over or had beensatisfactorily explained. He would have it given out that his healthhad broken down.
He took an "ABC Guide" from the top of a revolving bookcase and openedit at random: Draycot (Derby)--Draycot (Somerset)--Drayton(Norfolk)--147-1/2 miles from King's Cross--Population 486--Ah! thatought to suit in the mean time. He moved cautiously to the door. Fora moment he stood in an attitude of listening, then unlocked it. Thewhole framework of nerve which had made Jasper Jarman what he was,seemed to break and crumble away before the panic which had seized him.
On second thoughts, however, perhaps it were better to bury himself inthe heart of London, in the network of the metropolis where it is soeasy to lie hidden. He wrote a letter to his wife, who was spending afew days in Birmingham, telling her the fiction of his health, then herang the bell for the servant.
As the man entered the room and stood awaiting his orders, his masterscanned him narrowly. The man seemed quite normal.
Jasper, controlling his voice with an effort, ordered the car to bebrought round for him in a quarter of an hour, and after the man hadleft the room, he took a bunch of keys, and, selecting one, opened adrawer in his bureau. From it he took a small fortune in notes andgold, and going to his bedroom he changed his evening clothes for ablue serge suit and put on a heavy travelling ulster. As he made hisway down-stairs he heard the throbbing of the engine at the door.
At half-past eight that evening Jasper Jarman slid out of Kidderminsterin his Napier car, and in a wonderfully short space of time pulled upat the Warwick Arms Hotel at Warwick. Here he dismissed the car, andafter a light supper took train to London.
From a paper he bought at Euston he learnt nothing further relating tohis case, but after a day or two spent in London, he read the tidingsthat his identity had been established, and that an officer who hadbeen dispatched to interview him, not finding him at his house, hadapplied for a warrant for his apprehension.
On the shattered brain of the poor man this news had a terrible effect.He saw at once that his flight would be looked upon as a sign of hisguilt, and he racked his brain for the name of some country where thelaws of extradition were lax. The Argentine rose to his mind, but hehad no idea of going so far from England unless it were absolutelynecessary. He preferred somewhere where the living would be more orless civilized and where he could be handy for return whencircumstances permitted.
Spain he had heard of, but that was some time ago and there might benew laws now. Then the fate that has the moving of the pieces inlife's chessboard whispered in his ear--San Pietro.
Even at this late hour he told himself that it were better for him toface the music, but the good common sense of Stone-wall Jarman was in astate of complete disorganization, and to his panic-distorted brainflight seemed the only thing possible.
His wife would be interrogated, but he was convinced that the machineryof the law could not touch her. For himself, on the other hand, therewas a definite issue: if he returned it would be undoubtedly to standhis trial, and he knew what that meant even if he was acquitted, whichhe was not at all sure would be the case. In any event he said hewould be ruined beyond redemption, and his reputation would become thelegitimate sport of his many enemies, political and social, inKidderminster. The fact would remain that he, Jasper Jarman, had stoodin the dock beside a man like Povey, who had claimed him as a relative!Far rather would he spend the rest of his days in exile; it would meanleaving the country in any case, and by doing it now he would escapethe ordeal that he feared. "DO IT NOW"--that's what was on a littleprinted card in his office--and he had made it his motto.
Again, how could he hope to explain his hurried and agitated flightfrom Adderbury Cottage, taking place as it did immediately after thepublication in the _Evening News_ of Kyser's death? People would neverbelieve the evidence of the bad drainage if Povey liked to deny it--ashe doubtless would. Edward Povey to Jasper's mind was a guilty man,and he attributed to him all the motives and actions of the mosthardened of criminals; he would only be too glad to whitewash himselfat the expense of his uncle.
The morning after Mr. Jarman's arrival in London, he had called on hisbank and drawn a considerable sum of money in cash. It was not withoutfear and trepidation that he had done this, but he had told himselfthat it was then or never, and the hue and cry had not really begun.The manager had met him, and there was no suspicion in his manner.This important point settled, Jasper Jarman had made all haste to shakethe dust of his native country from the soles of his "sensible shape"boots.
It was a dull, dripping evening when the ca
rpet manufacturer stood onPaddington platform, waiting for the through express for Cardiff. Hewas rather a different man to the Jasper Jarman who had only a fewnights previously been reading in his library at "Holmstrand." He hadshaved off his moustache and side-whiskers, and his iron-grey hair hehad attempted to dye black, in which endeavour he had beensuccessful--in patches--and to hide this piebald appearance he hadtaken to a larger brimmed soft hat. He was buttoned up to the chin inhis heavy ulster, and a muffler covered his mouth. He looked for allthe world what he was--a disguised man. Had there been a detectivewatching for him on that train--which there was not--Jasper would havebeen the first man to merit his attention. His manner, too, wasfurtive and full of suspicion as he glanced from under the brim of hishat at each passer-by.
He had the carriage to himself, and he gave a sigh of relief as thetrain slid out of the station on its non-stop run to the westernseaport.
With an excess of cunning he disposed of his broad-brimmed hat, bydropping it out of the window as the train crawled through the SevernTunnel, replacing it with a cloth travelling hat, which he took fromhis bag.
It was past eleven when he arrived, and the hotel clerk lookedcuriously at the figure in the ulster who asked for a room.Remembering the looks which the Paddington passengers had given him, heresolved upon a further modification in his attire, and the man who forthe next few days lounged about the Bute Dock on the look-out for anunassuming-looking boat to take him as near San Pietro as possible wasby no means such a conspicuous figure.
He was successful, after many days, in bribing a passage to Bilbao on atramp steamer that was about to leave, and without loss of time Jaspertransferred his portmanteau, his ulster, and himself on board.
* * * * *
And so it came about that at the same time that Edward Povey Sydney wastravelling in luxury with his two lady companions between Calais andParis (which latter city had been decided upon as the firststopping-place in their journey), his unfortunate relative by marriagewas passing the great red light on the Scilly Isles in a rousingsouth-wester, a gale which sported with the poor little _Bella_ as witha cork.
Thus does necessity play games with the best of us, even with JasperJarman, who, poor fellow, could not cross the straits of Dover withoutthe most acute bodily suffering.