Part 39 (1/2)
”You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable,” he observed.
”Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too.”
”Hardly, I should say,” returned the detective coolly. ”But since you are so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable experience in that line.”
”You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes,” replied the squire, shocked at the man's indifference and hardness.
”It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or raving,” objected Mr. Booley.
”He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would very likely kill him.”
”That would decide the question of moving him,” answered Booley, taking his gla.s.ses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet.
”There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it may be my duty to do so.”
The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion.
”There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man; another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible.”
”Oh,” said Mr. Booley, ”if there is a lady in the case we must make some allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put yourself in my place.”
The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his personality for that of Mr. Booley.
”Well--what then?” he said. ”I think I would try to be merciful.”
”Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--”
”Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions,”
said Mr. Juxon severely. ”I cannot suppose any such thing.”
”Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging,”
returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire.
”Hanging?” repeated the latter in surprise. ”But G.o.ddard is not to be hanged.”
”Of course he is. What did you expect?” Mr. Booley looked surprised in his turn.
”But--what for?” asked the squire very anxiously. ”He has not killed anybody--”
”Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?”
”No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me.”
”I don't wonder you don't understand me, then,” said Mr. Booley. ”Well, it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story, with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such things will.” Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long sentence.
”This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?” inquired Mr. Juxon.
”Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say.
Somebody who had been connected with the G.o.ddard case was sure that if G.o.ddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted G.o.ddard's opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of Portland, and finds that G.o.ddard had a very good character in that inst.i.tution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler.