Johnny Ludlow Fourth Series Part 60

"Yes, it is," sighed Jack.

"The s.h.i.+p's gone without you, I hear."

"She had to go. s.h.i.+ps cannot be delayed to await the convenience of one man: you must know that, Herbert."

"How came you to do it, John?"

"To do what?" asked Jack. "To stay? It was no fault of mine. I was one of the chief witnesses, and the coroner would not release me."

"You know what I mean. Not that. How came you to do it, I ask?"

"To do what?" repeated Jack.

"Kill Pym."

Jack's face took a terrible shade of pain as he looked at his brother.

"I should have thought, Herbert, that you, of all people, might have judged me better than that."

"I don't mean to say you did it deliberately; that you meant to do it,"

returned the Rector in his coldest manner. "But that was a very awkward threat of yours--that if the brokers persisted in sending Pym out with you, there'd be murder committed. Very incautious!"

"You can't mean what you say; you cannot surely reflect on what you would imply--that I spoke those words with intention!" flashed Jack.

"You did speak them--and they were verified," contended Herbert. Just the same thing, you see, that Mr. Freeman had said to Jack in London.

Poor Jack!

"How did you hear that I had said anything of the kind?"

"Somebody wrote it to Timberdale," answered the parson, crustily. There could be no question that the affair had crossed him more than anything that had ever happened in this world. "I think it was Coralie Fontaine."

"I am deeply sorry I ever spoke them, Herbert--as things have turned out."

"No doubt you are. The tongue's an evil and dangerous member. Let us drop the subject: the less it is recurred to now, the better."

Captain Tanerton saw how it was--that all the world suspected him, beginning with his brother.

And he certainly did not do as much to combat the feeling as he might have done. This was noticed. He did not a.s.sert his innocence strenuously and earnestly. He said he was not guilty, it's true, but he said it too quietly. A man accused of so terrible a crime would move heaven and earth to prove the charge false--if false it were. Jack denied his guilt, but denied it in a very tame fas.h.i.+on. And this had its effect upon his upholders.

There could be no mistaking that some inward trouble tormented him. His warm, genial manners had given place to thoughtfulness and care. Was Jack guilty?--his best friends acknowledged the doubt now, in the depths of their heart. Herbert Tanerton was worrying himself into a chronic fever: chiefly because disgrace was reflected on his immaculate self, Jack being his brother. Squire Todhetley, meeting Jack one day in Robert Ashton's cornfield, took Jack's hands in his, and whispered that if Jack did strike the blow unwittingly, he knew it was all the fault of that unhappy, cross-grained Pym. In short, the only person who retained full belief in Jack was his wife. Jack had surely done it, said Timberdale under the rose, but done it unintentionally.

Alice related her dream to Jack. Not being given to belief in dreams, Jack thought little of it. Nothing, in fact. It was no big, evil-faced man who harmed Pym, he answered, shaking his head; and he seemed to speak as one who knew.

Timberdale was no longer a pleasant resting-place for John Tanerton, and he quitted it for Liverpool, with Alice and their little girl.

Aunt Dean received him coolly and distantly. The misfortune had put her out frightfully: with Jack's income threatened, there would be less for herself to prey upon. She told him to his face that if he wanted to correct Pym, he might have waited till they got out to sea: blows were not thought much of on board s.h.i.+p.

The next day Jack paid a visit to the owners, and resigned his command.

For, he was still attached ostensibly to the _Rose of Delhi_, though another master had temporarily superseded him.

"Why do you do this?" asked Mr. Charles Freeman. "We can put you into another s.h.i.+p, one going on a shorter voyage, and when your own comes home you can take her again."

"No," said Jack. "Many thanks, though, for your confidence in me. All the world seems to believe me guilty. If I were guilty I am not fit to command a s.h.i.+p's crew."

"But you were not guilty?"

More emphatically than Jack had yet spoken upon the affair, he spoke now: and his truthful, candid eyes went straight into those of his questioner.

"_I was not._ Before Heaven, I say it."

Charles Freeman heaved a sigh of relief. He liked Jack, and the matter had somewhat troubled him.

"Then, Captain Tanerton--I fully believe you--why not reconsider your determination, and remain on active service? The _Shamrock_ is going to Madras; sails in a day or two; and you shall have her. She'll be home again before the _Rose of Delhi_. For your own sake I think you should do this--to still rancorous tongues."

Jack sighed. "I can't feel free to go," he said. "This suspicion has troubled me more than you can imagine. I must get some employment on sh.o.r.e."

"You should stand up before the world and a.s.sert your innocence in this same emphatic manner," returned the owner. "Why have you not done it?"

Jack's voice took a tone of evasion at once. "I have not cared to do it."

Charles Freeman looked at him. A sudden thought flashed into his mind.

"Are you screening some one, Captain Tanerton?"

"How can you ask such a question?" rejoined Jack. But the deep and sudden flush that rose with the words, gave fresh food for speculation to Mr. Freeman. He dropped his voice.

"Surely it was not Sir Dace Fontaine who--who killed him? The uncle and nephew were not on good terms."

Jack's face and voice brightened again--he could answer this with his whole heart. "No, no," he impressively said, "it was not Sir Dace Fontaine. You may at least rely upon that."

When I at length got back to Crabb, the Fontaines were there. After the inquest, they had gone again to Brighton. Poor Verena looked like a ghost, I thought, when I saw her on the Sunday in their pew at church.

"It has been a dreadful thing," I said to her, as we walked on together after service; "but I am sorry to see you look so ill."

"A dreadful thing!--ay, it has, Johnny Ludlow," was her answer, spoken in a wail. "I expect it will kill some of us."

Sir Dace looked ill too. His furtive eyes had glanced hither and thither during the service, like a man who has a scare upon him; but they seemed ever to come back to Verena.

Not another word was said by either of us until we were near the barn.

Then Verena spoke.

"Where is John Tanerton?"

"In Liverpool, I hear."

"Poor fellow!"

Her tone was as piteous as her words, as her looks. All the bloom had gone from her pretty face; its lips were white, dry, and trembling.

In Coralie there was no change; her smiles were pleasant as ever, her manners as easy. The calamity had evidently pa.s.sed lightly over her; as I expect most things in life did pa.s.s.