The Solitary Farm Part 10

"Ugh," s.h.i.+vered the witness, "and that's just where he was, depend upon it, sir, getting through the window, when he'd dropped the knife behind the desk. Oh, what an escape I've had," wept Mrs. Coppersley.

"There, there, don't bellow," said the Coroner, testily, "get down and let the witness, Luke Tunks, be called."

The Bleacres handy-man had very little to say, but gave his evidence in a straightforward manner. He had left the house with Mrs. Coppersley at seven and had gone straight home to bed, as he was tired. His grandmother could depose to the fact that he was in bed until the morning. Then he came as usual to the Manor-house, and found that his master was dead. He admitted that he had quarrelled with his master over a possible curtailment of wages, and they had not parted in a very friendly spirit. "But you can't say as I did for him," ended the witness defiantly.

"No one suggests such a thing," snapped the Coroner. "Had you any reason to believe that deceased expected to be murdered?"

Tunks scratched his head, "I have and I haven't," he said at length; "master did seem afraid of someone, as he was always looking over his shoulder. He said that he planted the corn so that there should be only one path up to the house. Then he rigged up that out-look round the chimney there," witness jerked his head towards the ceiling, "and he's got a search-light there also, which he turned on at times."

The Coroner nodded. The late Captain's search-light was well-known, but it was only put down as another freak on the part of a freakish man. But the remark of the witness about the corn was new. "Do you mean to say that the deceased planted the corn as a protection against some one coming on him unawares?"

"Yes, I do," said Tunks, st.u.r.dily, "corn don't pay, and there was always only one pathway left. Now my idea is----"

"We don't want to hear your ideas," said the Coroner; "get down. Silas Pence."

The young preacher's examination occupied only a few minutes. He said that he was absent from his lodgings until eleven, and then returned to find the note. As it was late he did not call, and went to bed, as his landlady could prove. He had no reason to believe that Captain Huxham expected to be murdered, and considered that the old sailor was more than capable of looking after himself. Witness was very friendly with the Captain and wished to marry Miss Huxham, an arrangement to which the Captain was quite agreeable. Witness presumed that Huxham wished to see him about the projected marriage when he wrote the note asking witness to call. Next morning when about to pay the visit, witness heard of the murder.

Bella was the final witness, and stepped before the Coroner and the inquisitive jurymen, looking pale, but composed. She gave her evidence carefully, as she made up her mind to say nothing about Cyril's visit on the fatal night. Also she was grateful that in his statement Pence had said nothing of Lister's rivalry. She noted also that Pence had kept quiet about the offer of her hand as a reward for the death of Cyril made by her father to the preacher. More than ever she believed this wild declaration to be due to imagination on the young man's part.

"What have you to say about this matter, Miss Huxham?" asked the coroner in his usual gruff way.

"Nothing at all," she replied.

"Nothing at all," he echoed, and the jurymen looked at one another.

"No. I had quarrelled with my father on the afternoon of the night when he met with his terrible death. He refused to let me come to supper, so I retired to my room. Mrs. Coppersley brought me up tea and toast and then locked me in my room."

"By her father's orders," cried Mrs. Coppersley, rising.

"Silence," said the Coroner scowling; "but surely, Miss Huxham, you could have heard if----"

"I heard nothing," interrupted Bella, straightening her slim figure, "for I was drugged."

"H'm!" The Coroner looked at her shrewdly. "Mrs. Coppersley said something of that. Why were you drugged? Who drugged you?"

"My father drugged the cup of tea, brought by my aunt, with laudanum,"

said Bella bravely, determined to speak out, yet conscious of the curious faces.

"Yes, he did," cried Mrs. Coppersley. "I brought the tea to the study and then went to get the toast. Jabez had poured out the tea when I came back, and giving me a cup told me to take it to Bella. I never knew myself that it was drugged."

"But I can state that it was," said Dr. Ward, rising. "Miss Huxham gave me the dregs to examine. I can prove----"

The Coroner intervened testily. "All this is very much out of order," he said. "Let us proceed with caution. Miss Huxham, tell your story, and then we can hear Dr. Ward and Mrs. Coppersley."

"I have scarcely any story to tell," said Bella, still apprehensive, yet still brave and discreet. "I am engaged to be married, but my father did not approve of my choice. He interrupted my meeting with my future husband----"

"Who is he, if I may ask?"

"Mr. Lister. He is a gentleman who has been stopping here----"

"Yes, yes, I know;" and the Coroner did know, for his wife was a great gossip and collected all the scandal for miles around. In fact he had heard something of the philandering of Lister after Miss Huxham. "Go on."

Bella proceeded. "My father would not allow me to come to supper, and sent up my aunt with tea and toast to lock me in my room. She did so. I did not eat the toast, but I drank the tea, and then fell asleep half on the floor and half on my bed. My aunt awoke me in the morning with the news of what had happened."

"And you heard nothing?"

"How could she," growled Ward, "when she was drugged."

"Silence there," said the Coroner sharply. "What time did you fall under the influence of the opiate, Miss Huxham?"

"Shortly after eight, so far as I can recollect."

"Did you know that the tea was drugged?"

"If I had I should not have drunk it," retorted the witness. "It was only next morning that I guessed the truth, and then I kept the dregs for Dr. Ward to examine. He says----"

"He can give his evidence himself," interrupted the Coroner. "Why did your father drug you?"

"I can't say, sir, unless he feared lest I should elope with Mr.

Lister."

"Had you any such intention?"

"No, I had not."

The Coroner looked at her earnestly and pinched his lip, apparently nonplussed. The whole affair struck him as strange, and he cross-examined the girl carefully. When he examined Mrs. Coppersley and Ward, both of them bore out the improbable story--in the Coroner's opinion--told by the girl. Finally the old doctor accepted the testimony and dismissed the witnesses.

"I can't compliment you on the conduct of this case, Inspector Inglis,"

he said, when informed that no more witnesses were forthcoming. "You have collected nothing likely to solve the mystery."

"I cannot manufacture evidence, sir," said Inglis stiffly.

The Coroner grunted and made an acid speech in which he pointed out that the evidence laid before him and the jury amounted to absolutely nothing. Only one verdict could be brought in--"Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown." This was accordingly done, and the a.s.sembly dispersed. Only the Coroner remained to state sourly to Inglis that he considered the police in general to be fools, and the Pierside inspector to be the king of them.

CHAPTER VII

CYRIL AND BELLA

Captain Huxham's death having been legally relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes, his gnarled old body was committed to a damp grave in Marshely cemetery. There was a vast concourse of people from far and near to a.s.sist at the funeral of one who had been so mysteriously murdered. So greatly had the strangeness of the deed appealed to the imagination of metropolitan readers, that many London reporters came down to see the last of the case, and if possible to begin it again by making enquiries. But ask as they might, they could learn nothing. They were therefore compelled to content themselves with picturesque descriptions of the ancient Manor-house amidst its corn-fields, and with inaccurately lurid accounts of the late owner's career as a sailor.

Mrs. Coppersley went to the funeral as chief mourner, as Bella resolutely declined to do so. She was sorry for her tyrannical father's violent death, but being very human, found it difficult to forgive him for the way in which he had behaved. He had bullied her and shut her in her room, and finally had drugged her by stealth. But as it turned out it was just as well that he had done so, as thereby she was able to prove that she knew nothing of the crime, even though she was alone in the house. Then again, there was the other side of the question to take--that if Huxham had not administered the laudanum he might have been alive and well at the moment. It seemed to Bella, overstrung with nerves, that some higher powers had dealt out a punishment to the Captain for crimes committed but undiscovered. Certainly she agreed with Tunks that her father had some dark secret in his mind, which led him to isolate himself in the midst of the corn.

However, he was dead and buried, so all debts were paid, and Bella sitting in the vast drawing-room of the Manor-house with a church-service open on her lap, tried hard to forget Huxham's bad traits of character, and to remember his good ones. This was somewhat difficult, as the captain had few engaging qualities. But Bella recalled that he had been kind in a gruff sort of way and had never grudged her the best of food and the gaudiest of frocks. Huxham had been one of those so-called good people, who are amiable so long as everything is done according to their liking; but who display the tyrant when crossed.

But on the whole he might have been worse, and after all, as she anxiously kept in mind, he was her father.