Part 43 (1/2)
”No; I'm not content! But as I seem to be helpless, the fools who can only judge by appearances and the others who are quick to think the worst of me must believe what they like. Anyway, their opinion doesn't count for much.”
”How can people judge except by appearances?” Muriel argued. ”Besides, do you divide everybody you know into those two cla.s.ses?”
He looked hard at her and, to her annoyance, she grew confused.
”No,” he said slowly; ”that would be very wrong--I was too quick. There are a few with generous minds who haven't turned against me and I'm very grateful.”
”It might have been enough if you had said they had sense; but don't you feel you owe them something? Is it fair to keep silence and do nothing while they fight your battle?”
”Are there people who are doing so?”
”Yes,” Muriel answered steadily. ”You oughtn't to doubt it. You're wronging your friends.”
His expression betokened a strong effort at self-control.
”Well,” he said, ”it seems I have a duty to them, but how I'm to get about it is more than I know.”
”Have you thought of telling the police about your journey to British Columbia and what you learned about Cyril Jernyngham?”
”I'm afraid they wouldn't believe me. Then there's the trouble that the man I followed called himself Kermode.”
”Never mind. Tell them; tell everybody you know.”
”It would be useless,” Prescott said doggedly.
”You're wrong,” Muriel persisted. ”When a thing is talked about enough, people begin to believe it. Besides, it would give your supporters an argument against the doubtful. I'm afraid they need one after the finding of the clothes.”
”The clothes? What clothes?”
Muriel's faith in Prescott had never been shaken, but his surprise caused her keen satisfaction, and she told him all she knew about Jernyngham's discovery.
”Still, I don't see what finding them there could signify,” he said when she had finished.
”Then you don't know that a day or two after Cyril Jernyngham disappeared, a man dressed in clothes like those found, sold some land of his at a place called Navarino?”
Prescott started.
”It's the first I've heard of it. There's some villainy here; the things must have been hidden near my house with the object of strengthening suspicion against me!”
”Of course! But you can't think that Jernyngham had a hand in it?”
”Oh, no! The man is trying to ruin me, but that kind of meanness isn't in his line. Perhaps I'd better say that I never had clothes like those and that I sold no land of Cyril's.”
”Mr. Prescott,” Muriel murmured shyly, ”it isn't necessary to tell me this; I never doubted it.”
”Thank you,” he answered shortly, but there was trouble in his voice and the girl thought she knew what his reticence cost.
”Well,” she said, ”you will tell other people this and go to see Corporal Curtis? You agreed that women have some power here, and, even if you're not convinced, you will do what I ask because I wish it?”
”You have my promise.”