CHAPTER XV
THE UNWRITTEN LAW
Martin's evidence was concise. He happened to be in the "Black Lion"yard with other children at a quarter past ten on Monday night. He hearda woman's scream, followed by a man's loud cry of pain, and both soundsseemed to come from the extreme end of the garden.
Kitty Thwaites ran toward the hotel shrieking, "Oh, Betsy, Betsy,you've killed him!" She screamed "Murder" and called for someone tocome, "for God's sake!" She fell exactly opposite the place where hewas standing. Then he saw Betsy Thwaites--he identified her now asMrs. Pickering--running after her sister and brandishing a knife. Sheappeared to be very excited, and cried out, "I'll swing for him. Maythe Lord deal wi' him as he dealt wi' me!" She called her sister a"strumpet," and said it would "serve her right to stick her with thesame knife." He was quite sure those were the exact words. He was notalarmed in any way, only surprised by the sudden uproar, and he sawthe two women and the knife as plainly as if it were broad daylight.
Mr. Dane concluded the examination-in-chief, which he punctuated withexpressive glances at the jury, by touching on a point which he expectedhis acute rival to raise.
"What were you doing in the 'Black Lion' yard at that hour, Bolland?"
"I was having a dispute with Master Frank Beckett-Smythe."
"What sort of a dispute?"
"Well, we were fighting."
A grin ran through the court.
"He is an intelligent boy and older than you. Can you suggest any reasonwhy he should have failed to see and hear all that you saw and heard?"
Martin paused. He disliked to pose as a vainglorious pugilist, but therewas no help for it.
"I got the better of him," he said quietly. "One, at least, of his eyeswere closed, and I had just given him an uppercut on the nose."
"But his brother was there, too?"
"Master Ernest was looking after him."
"How about the other children?"
"They ran away."
"All of them?"
"Well, nearly all. I can only speak for myself, sir. No doubt the otherswill tell you what they saw."
Obviously, Mr. Dane was unprepared for the cool self-possessiondisplayed by this farmer's son. He nodded acquiescence with Martin'sviews and sat down.
Mr. Stockwell, watching the boy narrowly, had caught the momentary gleamof surprise when his look encountered that of the pretty dark-eyed childwhose fashionable attire distinguished her from the village urchinsamong whom she was sitting.
"By the way," he began, "why do you call yourself Bolland?"
"That is my name, sir."
"Are you John Bolland's son?"
"No, sir."
"Then whose son are you?"
"I do not know. My father and mother adopted me thirteen years ago."
The lawyer gathered by the expression on the stolid faces of the jurythat this line of inquiry would be fruitless.
"What was the cause of the fight between you and young Beckett-Smythe?"
This was the signal for an interruption from the jury. Mr. Webster, theforeman, did not wish any slight to be placed on Mrs. Saumarez. Theupshot might be that he would lose a good customer. The Squire dealt atthe Stores. Let him protect his own children. But Mrs. Saumarez needed achampion.
"May I ask, sir," he said to the Coroner, "what a bit of a row atweenyoungsters hez te do wi' t' case?"
"Nothing that I can see," was the answer.
"It has a highly important bearing," put in Mr. Stockwell. "If myinformation is correct, this witness is the only one whose evidenceconnects Mrs. Pickering even remotely with the injuries received by herhusband. I assume, of course, that Marshall's testimony is not worth astraw. I shall endeavor to elicit facts that may tend to prove the boy'sstatements unreliable."
"I cannot interfere with your discretion, Mr. Stockwell," was theruling.
"Now, answer my question," cried the lawyer.
Martin's brown eyes flashed back indignantly.
"We fought because I wished to take a young lady home, and he tried toprevent me."
"A young lady! What young lady?"
"I refuse to mention her name. You asked why we fought, and I've toldyou."
"Why this squeamishness, my young squire of dames? Was it not AngeleSaumarez?"
Martin turned to the Coroner.
"Must I reply, sir?"
"Yes.... I fail still to see the drift of the cross-examination, Mr.Stockwell."
"It will become apparent quickly. Yes, or no, Bolland?"
"Yes; it was."
"Was she committed to your care by her mother?"
"No. She came out to see the fair. I promised to look after her."
"Were you better fitted to protect this child than the two sons of Mr.Beckett-Smythe?"
"I thought so."
"From what evil influences, then, was it necessary to rescue her?"
"That's not a fair way to put it. It was too late for her to be out."
"When did you discover this undeniable fact?"
"Just then."
"Not when you were taking her through the fair in lordly style?"
"No. There was no harm in the shows, and I realized the time only whenthe clock struck ten."
Every adult listener nodded approval. The adroit lawyer saw that he wasmerely strengthening the jury's good opinion of the boy. He must strikehard and unmercifully if he would shake their belief in Martin's goodfaith.
"There were several other children there--a boy named Bates, anothernamed Beadlam, Mrs. Atkinson's three girls, and others?"
"Bates was with me. The others were in the yard."
"Ah, yes; they had left you a few minutes earlier. Now, is it not a factthat these children, and you with them, had gone to this hiding-place toescape being caught by your seniors?"
"No; it is a lie."
"Is that your honest belief? Do you swear it?"
"I shirked nothing. Neither did the others. Hundreds of people saw us.As for Miss Saumarez, I think she went there for a lark more thananything else."
"A questionable sort of lark. It is amazing to hear of respectablechildren being out at such an hour. Did your parents--did the parents ofany of the others realize what was going on?"
"I think not. The whole thing was an accident."
"But, surely, there must be some adequate explanation of this fightbetween you and Beckett-Smythe. It was no mere scuffle, but a severeset-to. He bears even yet the marks of the encounter."
Master Frank was supremely uncomfortable when the united gaze of thecourt was thus directed to him. His right eye was discolored, as allmight see, but his nose was normal.
"I have told you the exact truth. I wished her to go home----"
"Did she wish it?"
"She meant to tease me, and said she would remain. Frank Beckett-Smytheand I agreed to fight, and settle whether she should go or stay."
"So you ask us to believe that not only did you engage in a bout offisticuffs in order to convoy to her home a girl already hours too lateabroad, but that you alone, of all these children, can give us a correctversion of occurrences on the other side of the hedge?"
"I don't remember asking you that, sir," said Martin seriously, and thecourt laughed.
Mr. Stockwell betrayed a little heat.
"You know well what I mean," he said. "You are a clever boy. Are you notdepending on your imagination for some of your facts?"
"I wish I were, sir," was the sorrowful answer.
Quite unconsciously, Martin looked at Betsy. Some magnetic influencecaused her to raise her eyes for the first time, and each gazed into thesoul of the other.
Mr. Stockwell covered his retreat by an assumption of indifference.
"Fortunately, there is a host of witnesses to be heard in regard tothese particular events," he exclaimed, and Martin's inquisition ceased.
The superintendent whispered something to Mr. Dane, who rose.
"A great deal has been made out of this quarrel about a little girl,"
hesaid to the boy. "Is it not the fact that you have endeavoredconsistently to keep her name out of the affair altogether?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Mrs. Saumarez is only a visitor here, and her daughter couldnot know anything of village ways. I was mostly to blame for allowingher to be there at all, so I tried to take it onto my shoulders."
It was interesting to note how Angele received this statement. Her blackeyes became tearful. Her hero was rehabilitated. She worshiped him againpassionately. Someone else had peached. She brushed away the tears anddarted a quick look at the Squire's eldest son.
He was the next witness. He saw George Pickering and Kitty go down thegarden, the man's arm being around Kitty's neck. Then he fought withMartin. Afterwards he heard some screaming, but could not tell a wordthat was said--he was too dazed.
"Is it not possible the hubbub was too confused that you should gain anyintelligible idea of it?" asked Mr. Stockwell.
"Yes, that might be so."
"You are a bigger boy than young Bolland. Surely he could not pummel thewits out of you?"
"I don't think he will next time. He caught me a stinger by chance."
A roar of laughter greeted this candid confession of future intentions.Even Mr. Beckett-Smythe and the vicar joined in.
"Why did you wish to keep this girl, Angele Saumarez, away from herresidence?"
"She's a jolly sort of girl, and I think we were all a bit off ourheads," said Frank ruefully.
"But you had some motive, some design. Remember, you fought to retainher."
"I wish I hadn't," said the boy, glancing at his father. His mostactive memory was of a certain painful interview on Wednesday night.
"_You_ were not groggy on your legs," was Mr. Stockwell's first remarkto Ernest. "What did you hear or see beyond the garden hedge?"
"There was a lot of yelling, and two women ran toward the hotel. Thewoman with a knife was threatening to stick it into somebody, but Icouldn't tell who."
"Ah. She was running after the other woman. Don't you think she mighthave been threatening her only?"
"It certainly looked like it."
"Can't you help us by being more definite?"
"No. Frank was asking for a pump. I was thinking of that more than ofthe beastly row in the garden."
He was dismissed.
"Angele Saumarez."
The strangers present surveyed the girl with expectant interest. Shelooked a delightfully innocent child. She was attired in the dark dressshe wore on the Monday evening. Her hat, gloves, and shoes were inperfect taste. No personality could be more oddly at variance with avillage brawl than this delicate, gossamer, fairy-like little mortal.
She gave her evidence without constraint or shyness. Her prettycontinental accent enhanced the charm of her manners. In no senseforward, she won instant approbation, and the general view was that shehad drifted into an unpleasant predicament by sheer force ofcircumstances. The mere love of fun brought her out to see the fair, andher presence in the stackyard was accounted for by a girlish delight insetting boys at loggerheads.
But she helped the police contention by declaring that she heard Betsysay:
"I'll swing for him."
"I remember," she said sweetly, "wondering what she meant. To swing foranybody! That is odd."
"Might it not have been 'for her' and not 'for him'?" suggested Mr.Stockwell.
"Oh, yes," agreed Angele. "I wouldn't be sure about that. They talkqueerly, these people. I am certain about the 'swing'."
Really, there never was a more simple little maid.
"You must never again go out at night to such places," remarked theCoroner paternally.
She cast down her eyes.
"Mamma was very angry," she simpered. "I have been kept at home for daysand days on account of it."
She glanced at Martin. That explanation was intended for him. As amatter of fact, Mr. Beckett-Smythe called at The Elms on Thursdaymorning and told Mrs. Saumarez that her child needed more control. Hehad thrashed Frank soundly the previous evening for riding off to arendezvous fixed with Angele for nine o'clock. He whispered thisinformation to Mr. Herbert, and the vicar's eyes opened wide.
The other non-professional witnesses, children and adults, did notadvance the inquiry materially. Many heard Kitty shrieking that hersister had murdered George Pickering, but Kitty herself had admittedsaying so under a misapprehension.
P. C. Benson raised an important point. The pitchfork was firstmentioned about eleven o'clock, when Mr. Pickering was able to talkcoherently, after being laid on a bed and drinking some brandy. Neitherof the two women had spoken of it. And there were footprints that didnot bear out the movements described in the dead man's deposition.
"But Mr. Pickering's first lucid thought referred to this implement?"said Mr. Stockwell.
"Neaebody was holdin' him, sir."
The policeman imagined the lawyer had said "loosened."
"I mean that the first account he ever gave of this accident referred tothe pitchfork, and his subsequent statements were to the same effect."
"Oah, yes. There's no denyin' that."
"And you found the fork lying exactly where he described its position?"
"Why, yes; but he was a desp'rate lang time i' studdyin' t' matter ootafore he's speak."
"Do you suggest that someone placed the fork there by his instructions?"
"Noa, sir. Most like he'd seen it there hissen."
"Then why do you refuse to accept his statement that an accident tookplace?"
"Because I f'und his footprints where he ran across t' garden te t' spotwhere he was picked up."
"Footprints! After a month of fine weather!"
"It was soft mold, sir, an' they were plain enough."
"Were not a dozen men running about this garden at twenty minutes pastten?"
"Ay--quite that."
"And you tell us coolly that you could distinguish those of one man?"
"There was on'y one man's track i' that pleaece, sir."
Benson was not to be flurried. Mr. Jonas and a police sergeantcorroborated his opinion.
Dr. MacGregor followed. He described Pickering's wound, the nature ofhis illness, and the cause of death. The stab itself was not of a fatalcharacter. Had it diverged slightly it must have reached the lung. As itwas, the poison, not the knife, had done the mischief.
The county analyst was scientifically dogmatic. His analyses had beenconducted with the utmost care. The knife was contaminated, thepitchfork was only rusty. The latter was a dangerous implement, but inno way responsible for the state of Pickering's blood corpuscles.
Mr. Dane, of course, made the most of these witnesses, but Mr. Stockwellwisely forbore from pressing them, and thus hammering the main itemsagain into the heads of the jury.
The Coroner glanced at his watch. It was six o'clock. Neither of thesolicitors was permitted to address the court, and he made up his mindto conclude the inquiry forthwith.
"There is one matter which might be cleared up," he said. "Where isMarshall, the groom?"
It was discovered that the man had left the court half an hour ago. Hehad not returned. P.C. Benson was sent to find him. The two came back infive minutes. Their arrival was heralded by loud shouts and laughteroutside. When they entered the schoolroom Marshall presented aludicrous spectacle. He was dripping wet, and not from rain, for hisclothes were covered with slime and mud.
It transpired that he had gone to a public house for a pint of beer.Several men and youths who could not gain admittance to the court tookadvantage of the absence of the police and amused themselves by duckinghim in a convenient horse pond.
The Coroner, having expressed his official annoyance at the incident,asked the shivering man if he followed Betsy into the garden.
No; he saw her go out through the back door.
"Then the threats you heard were uttered while she was in the passage ofthe hotel or in the kitchen?"
Yes; that was so.
/> "It is noteworthy," said the Coroner, "that none of the children heardthis young woman going toward the couple. She must have run swiftly andsilently down the path, and the witnesses were so absorbed in the fightthat she passed them unheard and unseen."
Mr. Stockwell frowned. If this gave any indication of the Coroner'ssumming-up, it was not favorable to his client.
Dr. Magnus showed at once that he meant to cast aside all sentimentalconsiderations and adhere solely to the judicial elements. He treatedGeorge Pickering's deposition with all respect, but pointed out that thedying man might be actuated by the desire to make atonement to the womanhe had wronged. The human mind was capable of strange vagaries. A manwho would slight, or, at any rate, be indifferent, to one of theopposite sex, when far removed from personal contact, was often swayedby latent ties of affection when brought face to face with the womanherself.
In a word, the Coroner threw all his weight on the side of the policeand against Betsy. He regarded Fred Marshall and young Bolland astruthful witnesses, though inspired by different motives, and deemed themedical evidence conclusive.
Betsy sat sphinx-like through this ordeal. Her unhappy parents, and evenmore unhappy sister, were profoundly distressed, and Stockwell watchedthe jury keenly as each damning point against his client was emphasized.
"The law is quite clear in affairs of this kind," concluded Dr. Magnusgravely. "Either this unfortunate man was murdered, in which event yourverdict can only take one form, or he met with an accident. Mostfortunately, the last word does not rest with this court, or it would beimpossible to close the inquiry to-day. The deceased himself raised apertinent question: Why did his wife escape blood-poisoning, although hebecame infected? But the solicitors present apparently concur with methat this is a matter which must be determined elsewhere----"
"No, no," broke in Mr. Stockwell. "I admit nothing of the sort."
The Coroner bowed.
"You have the benefit of my opinion, gentlemen," he said to the jury."You must retire now and consider your verdict."
The jury filed out into a classroom, an unusual proceeding, but highlyexpedient in an inquiry of such importance. Tongues were loosenedinstantly, and a hum of talk arose, while the witnesses signed theirrecorded statements. Kitty endeavored to arouse her sister from thecondition of stupor in which she remained, and the girl's mother placedan arm around her shoulders. But Betsy paid little heed. Her mind dwelton one object only--a sheet-covered form, lying cold and inanimate in aroom of the neighboring hotel.
Angele sidled toward Martin when a movement in court permitted.Francoise would have restrained her, but the child slid along a bench soquickly that the nurse's protest came too late.
"Martin," she whispered, "you behaved beautifully. I was so angry withyou at first. But it was not you. I know now. Evelyn Atkinson told."
"I wish it had never happened," said the boy bitterly. He hated thenotion that his evidence was the strongest link in the chain encirclingthe hapless Betsy.
"Oh, I don't find it bad, this court. One is all pins and needles atfirst. But the men are nice."
"I am not thinking of ourselves," he growled.
"Tiens! Of whom, then?"
"Angele, you're awfully selfish. What have we to endure, compared withpoor Mrs. Pickering?"
"Oh, pouf! That is her affair. Mamma beat me on Thursday. Beat me, lookyou! But I made her stop, oh, so quickly. Miss Walker pretends thatmamma was ill. I know better, and so do you. I said if she hit meagain----"
He caught her wrist.
"Shut up!" he said in a firm whisper.
"Don't. You are hurting me. Why are you so horrid? Do you want me to bebeaten?"
"No; but how can you dare threaten your mother?"
"I would dare anything rather than be kept in the house--away from you."
Frank Beckett-Smythe, sitting near his father, was wondering dully whyhe had been such a fool as to incur severe penalties for the sake ofthis "silly kid," who was now ogling his rival and whispering coyly inthat rival's ear. Martin was welcome to her, for all he cared. No girlwas worth the uneasiness of the chair he occupied, for his father'shunting-crop had fallen with such emphasis that he felt the bruises yet.
The jury returned. They had been absent half an hour. Mr. Webster wasflustered--that was perceptible instantly. He, as foreman, had todeliver the finding.
"Have you agreed as to your verdict?" said the Coroner.
"We have."
"And it is?"
"Not guilty!"
"What are you talking about? This is not a criminal court. You are askedto determine how George Pickering met his death."
"I beg pardon," stammered Mr. Webster. He turned anxiously to hiscolleagues. Some of them prompted him.
"I mean," he went on, "that our verdict is 'Accidental death.' That'sit, sir. 'Accidental death,' I should hev said. Mr. Pickerin's ownwords----"
The Coroner frowned.
"It is an amazing verdict," he said. "I feel it my bounden duty----"
Mr. Stockwell, pale but determined, sprang to his feet.
"Do hear me for one moment!" he cried.
The Coroner did not answer, so the solicitor took advantage of the tacitpermission.
"I well recognize that the police cannot let the matter rest here," hepleaded. "On your warrant they will arrest my client. Such a proceedingis unnecessary. In her present state of health it might be fatal. Surelyit will suffice if you record your dissent and the inquiry is left toother authorities. I am sure that you, that Mr. Dane, will forgive theinformality of my request. It arises solely from motives of humanity."
The Coroner shook his head.
"I am sorry, Mr. Stockwell, but I must discharge my dutyconscientiously. The verdict is against the weight of evidence, and theultimate decision rests with me, not with the jury. They have chosendeliberately to ignore my directions, and I have no option but to setaside their finding. I am compelled to issue a warrant charging yourclient with 'wilful murder.' Protests only render the task more painful,and I may point out that, under any circumstances, the date of arrestcannot be long deferred."
A howl of vehement indignation came from the packed court. Nearlyeveryone present sympathized with Betsy. They accepted GeorgePickering's dying declaration as final; they regarded the Coroner'sattitude as outrageous.
For an instant the situation was threatening. It looked as though thepeople would wrest the girl from the hands of the police by main force.Old Mrs. Thwaites fainted, Kitty screamed dreadful words at theCoroner, and the girl's father sprawled across the table with his facein his hands and crying pitifully.
Mr. Beckett-Smythe rose, but none would listen. There was a scene oftense excitement. Already men were crowding to the center of the room,while an irresistible rush from outside drove a policeman headlong fromthe door.
Mr. Herbert strove to make himself heard, but an overwrought member ofthe jury bellowed:
"Mak' him record oor vardict, parson. What right hez he te go ageaen t'opinion o' twelve honest men?"
Solicitors and reporters gathered their papers hastily, fearing aninstant onslaught on the Coroner, and someone chanced to step onAngele's foot as she clung in fright to Martin. The child squealedloudly; her toes had been squeezed under a heavy boot.
Francoise, whose broad Norman face depicted every sort of bewildermentat the tumult which had sprung up for some cause she in no wayunderstood, rose at the child's cry of anguish, and incontinently flungtwo pressmen out of her path. She reached Angele and faced the crowdwith splendid courage.
The voluble harangue she poured forth in French, her uncommon costume,and fierce gesticulations gained her a hearing which would have beendenied any other person in the room, save, perhaps, Betsy. And Betsy wasstriving to bring her mother back to consciousness, without, however,departing in the least particular from her own attitude of stoicdespair.
The Coroner availed himself of the momentary lull. Francoise paused forsheer lack of breath, and Dr. Magnus made his voice heard
far out intothe village street.
"Why all this excitement?" he shouted. "The jury's verdict will berecorded, but you cannot force me to agree with it. The police need notarrest Mrs. Pickering on my warrant at once. I hope they will not do so.Surely, as men of sense, you will not endeavor to defy the law? You areinjuring this poor woman's cause by an unseemly turmoil. Make way,there, at the door, and allow Mrs. Pickering to escort her mother to thehotel. You are frightening women and children by your bluster."
Mr. Stockwell joined the superintendent in appealing to the crowd todisperse, and the crisis passed. In a few minutes the members of theThwaites family were safe within the portals of the inn, and theschoolroom was empty of all save a few officials and busy reporters.
Francoise held fast to Angele, but the girl appealed to Martin toaccompany her a little way. He yielded, though he turned back beforereaching the vicarage.
"Mother and I are coming to tea to-morrow," she cried as they parted.
"All right," he replied. "Mind you don't vex her again."
"Not I. She will want to hear all about the inquest. It was as good as aplay. Wasn't Francoise funny? Oh, I do wish you had understood her. Shecalled the men 'sacres cochons d'Anglais!' It is so naughty in English."
On the green, and dotted about the roadway, excited groups discussed thelively episode in the schoolroom. They were rancorous against theCoroner, and not a few boohed as he entered his carriage with Mr. Dane.
"Ay, they'd hang t' poor lass, t' pair of 'em, if they could," shouted abuxom woman.
"Sheaem on ye!" screamed another. "I'll lay owt ye won't sleep soond i'yer beds te-night."
But these vaporings broke no bones, and the Coroner drove away, gladenough that so far as he was concerned a distasteful experience hadended.
The persistent rain soon cleared loiterers from the center of thevillage. John Bolland came to the farm while Martin was eating a belatedmeal.
"A nice deed there was at t' inquest, I hear," he said. "I don't knowwhat's come te Elmsdale. It's fair smitten wi' a moral pestilence. Onereads o' sike doin's i' foreign lands, but I nivver thowt te see 'em i'this law-abidin' counthry."
Then Martha flared up.
"Wheae's i' t' fault?" she cried. "Can ye bleaem t' folk for lossin' theirtempers when a daft Crowner cooms here an' puts hissen up ageaen t' jury?If he had a bit o' my tongue, I'd teng (sting) him!"
So Elmsdale declared itself unhesitatingly on Betsy's side. A dead man'sword carried more weight than all the law in the land.