Part 38 (1/2)

”Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him myself. Mrs. G.o.ddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also acquainted with the circ.u.mstances, is at this moment taking care of the sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient guarantee--”

”Oh, there is no question of guarantee,” said Mr. Booley. ”I a.s.sure you, Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best.

Can you tell me how long G.o.ddard has been in the neighbourhood?”

The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate Mrs. G.o.ddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that G.o.ddard could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him.

”That is doubtful,” said the squire. ”When I left him just now he was quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a time might kill him outright.”

”It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man,” remarked Mr. Booley. ”Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. G.o.ddard, too.”

”That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house, now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her very much.”

”Well, well, we will see about it,” answered Mr. Booley. They reached the house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to wait for his return.

It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the house waiting to carry off G.o.ddard, so soon as he should be well enough to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. G.o.ddard of Booley's arrival.

He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing her to her husband's bedside.

He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account of what had happened.

”You are not hurt?” she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on her friend's face with a wistful look.

”No, I a.s.sure you, not in the least,” he said. ”But your poor husband is very ill--very ill indeed.”

”Tell me,” said she quietly, ”is he dead? Are you trying to break it to me?”

”No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I will come back and fetch you--”

”Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good.”

So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house.

”Do you know,” said Mary G.o.ddard, as they walked together, ”it is very hard to wish that he may recover--” she stopped short.

”Very hard,” answered the squire. ”His life must be one of misery, if he lives.”

”Of course you would send him back?” she asked nervously.

”My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety requires it.”

”G.o.d knows--you would only be doing right,” she said and was silent again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter G.o.ddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now, in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate.

”You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?” she asked after a time.

”Yes--he was quite sure of it,” answered the squire.

”Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me,” she said in a low voice, as though speaking to herself.

The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They pa.s.sed the spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly real.

”Where is he?” she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the windows.