Through Russian Snows (10 page)

It was a horrible thought that suspicion might fall upon him. Those who
knew him would be sure that he could have had nothing whatever to do
with the murder; still, the more he thought of it the more he felt that
suspicions were certain to rise, and that he would find it extremely
difficult to explain matters on his return. The memory of his quarrel
with the magistrate was fresh in everybody's mind, and even his friends
might well consider it singular that his words to Faulkner should so
soon have been carried into effect. It is true that Joe Markham would be
missing too, and that the man's own acquaintances would have no great
difficulty in guessing that he had carried out his threats against
Faulkner, but they would certainly not communicate their opinion to the
constables, and the latter might not think of the man in connection with
the murder, nor notice that he was no longer to be seen about the town.

Even were he himself free to leave the cave now and return to Weymouth,
he would find himself in a most awkward position. There was, of course,
no shadow of evidence against him save that he was known to have
quarrelled with Faulkner, and must have been very near the spot the
moment he was killed, but how could he explain six or seven hours'
absence? He could but say that he had caught sight of a man in the
plantation and followed him for miles among the hills, and had lost
sight of him at last. He had not a shadow of evidence to produce in
confirmation of his story; in fact there was no direct evidence either
way. There could be no doubt he would have to remain under a cloud of
suspicion. It was bad enough before, but this would be altogether
intolerable, and it was perhaps best, after all, that he was to be taken
away, and his future decided for him.

He should have gone anyhow, and no doubt he would be able to get some
opportunity of writing to Frank and setting his mind at rest as to his
safety, and telling him something about what had happened, and that he
had been kidnapped and carried over to France. He had acted like a fool,
no doubt, but Frank would understand why he had followed his first
impulse and gone alone after the man who committed the murder, instead
of going to the constables and telling them that some unknown man had
killed the magistrate. One thing seemed certain, he should never be able
to go back to Weymouth again unless the affair was cleared up, and he
did not see how that ever could be.

At this point Julian's thoughts became confused. The voices of the men
talking at the table seemed to get further and further away, and then he
was conscious of nothing more until he heard a bell tinkle faintly
somewhere overhead. There was a movement in the cave, and he sat up. All
the men went out by the upper door. When they had left he got up and
went to see if the lower door was so fastened that he could not open it.
He had no idea of breaking his word, but did so out of curiosity rather
than from any other feeling. He found that the bolts could be pulled
back, but that the lock was a very strong one, and the jamb was, at the
point where the bolt shot into it, covered with a piece of iron, so that
no instrument could be used for forcing back the bolt.

"It may be," he thought, "that some other prisoner has been confined
here at some time or other, or possibly this has been done in order that
if the trap-door above should be found, and the revenue men come down
that way, the smugglers in their flight might lock the door behind them
and so have time to get away in a boat or along at the foot of the
cliffs before their pursuers could get down to the lower entrance and
open fire upon them."

Then he lay down again. He wondered whether the pull of the bell he had
heard could be hidden in the grass like the handle of the trap. It might
only be a very small knob, but he had looked so closely among the
bushes that he wondered it had escaped him. In three or four minutes the
French captain came down again, and walked across to where he was lying:

"
Pauvre diable!
" he muttered, and then went back to the table, filled
himself a glass of spirits and water, and lit his pipe. A moment later a
thought seemed to strike him, and he came across to Julian again and
touched him. He at once sat up. The Frenchman motioned him to come to
the table, went to a cupboard, brought out a wooden platter with a large
lump of cold beef and a loaf of bread and some cheese, poured him out a
horn of brandy and water, and motioned him to eat. Julian attacked the
food vigorously. He had had some lunch with his friends before starting
for his walk back to Weymouth, but that had been nearly seven hours
before, and his run across the hills in the keen air had given him a
sharp appetite, so he did full justice to the food.

"This is not a bad fellow after all," he said to himself, as the
smuggler, when he had finished, brought out a box of cigars and placed
it before him. "He would have knocked me on the head without
compunction, in the way of business; but now when he has concluded that
I am not dangerous, he comes out as a good fellow." He nodded pleasantly
to the Frenchman as he lit the cigar, which was an excellent one, and
far better than any Julian had been accustomed to smoke with his
associates in the billiard room.

The Frenchman's thoughts were not dissimilar to his own. "He is a brave
garçon
," he said to himself, "and makes the best of things. He is a
fine-looking fellow, too, and will be a big man in another year or two.
It is a misfortune that we have got to take him and shut him up in
prison. Why did he mix himself up in this affair of Markham? That is the
way with boys. Instead of being grateful to the man that had killed his
enemy, he must needs run after him as if he had done him an injury.
Well, it can't be helped now; but, at least, I will make him as
comfortable as I can as long as he is on board the lugger."

In another half hour Joe Markham returned with the French sailors.
"There is a big stir down in Weymouth," he said to Julian. "I heard from
our friend that the place is like a hive of bees. I tell you, Mr. Wyatt,
that it is a lucky thing for you that you found the trap-door and came
down here. You mayn't like being our prisoner; but it is a lot better
than being in a cell down in Weymouth with a charge of murder hanging
over you, which you would have been if you had gone straight back
again."

"A charge of murder!" Julian repeated, springing to his feet. "How could
such a charge be brought? It could not have been known so soon that I
was missing. I must go back and face it. If I run away, now I have been
openly accused, everyone will make sure of my guilt."

"Well, sir, I should say it is a sight better that they should suspect
you, and you safely over in France, than that they should suspect you
with you in their hands; but at any rate, you see you have no choice in
the matter. You could only clear yourself by bringing me into it; though
I doubt, as things have turned out, that that would help you a bit."

"I warn you that I shall make my escape, and come back again as soon as
I can," Julian said passionately.

"Well, sir, if you have a fancy for hanging, of course you can do so;
but from what I hear, hanging it would be, as sure as you stand there.
There is a warrant out against you, and the constables are scouring all
the country."

"But what possible ground can they have to go upon except that smuggling
affair?"

"Well, if what our friend told me is true, they have very good grounds,
as they think, to go on. He was talking with one of the constables, and
he told him that Faulkner is not dead yet, though he ain't expected to
last till morning. His servants came out to look for him when the horse
came back to the house without him. A man rode into Weymouth for the
doctor, and another went to Colonel Chambers and Mr. Harrington. By the
time they got there Faulkner was conscious, and they took his dying
deposition. He said that he had had a row with you a short distance
before he had got to his gate, and that you said you would be even with
him. As he was riding up through the wood to his house, he suddenly
heard a gun and at the same moment fell from his horse. A minute later
you came out from the wood at the point where the shot had been fired.
You had a gun in your hand. Feeling sure that your intention was to
ascertain if he was done for, and to finish him off if you found that he
was not, he shut his eyes and pretended to be dead. You stooped over
him, and then made off at full speed. Now, sir, that will be awkward
evidence to get over, and you must see that you will be a long way safer
in France than you would in Weymouth."

Julian sank down, crushed by the blow. He saw that what the poacher said
was true. What would his unsupported assertion go for as against the
dying man's deposition? No doubt Faulkner had stated what he believed to
be the truth, though he might not have given quite a fair account of
what had taken place in the road; still, there would be no
cross-examining him as to what had passed there, and his statement would
stand unchallenged. As things now stood, Julian's own story that he had
pursued a man over the hills, and had lost him, would, wholly
unsupported as it was, be received with absolute incredulity. He had
been at the spot certainly at the time. He had had words with Faulkner;
he had had a gun in his hands; he had come out and leaned over the
wounded man within less than a minute of the shot being fired. The chain
of evidence against him seemed to be complete, and he sat appalled at
the position in which he found himself.

"Look here, youngster," the poacher said, "it is a bad job, and I don't
say it isn't. I am sorry for you, but I ain't so sorry as to go and give
myself up and get hung in your place; but I'll tell you what I will do.
When I get across to France I will draw up a statement and swear it
before a magistrate, giving an account of the whole affair, and I will
put it in a tin case and always carry it about with me. I will direct it
to Colonel Chambers, and whenever anything happens to me it shall be
sent to him. I am five-and-twenty years older than you are, and the life
I lead ain't likely to give me old age. To make matters safer, I will
have two copies made of my statement—one I will leave in the hands of
one of our friends here. The craft I am in may be wrecked some day, or
sunk by one of the cutters; anyhow, whichever way it comes, he is
certain to hear of my death, and I shall tell him that when he hears of
it he is to send that letter to Chambers."

"Thank you," Julian said earnestly. "It may not come for a long time,
but it will be something for me to know that some day or other my name
will be cleared of this horrible accusation; but I would rather have
gone and faced it out now."

"It would be just suicide," the man said. "Weymouth ain't the only place
in the world; and it is better for you to live out of it, and know you
will get cleared some day, than to get hung, with only the consolation
that perhaps twenty years hence they may find out they have made a
mistake."

"It isn't so much myself I am thinking of as my brother and aunt. My
going away and never sending them a word will be like confessing my
guilt. It will ruin my brother's life, and kill my aunt."

"Well, I'll tell you what I will do," Markham said. "You shall write a
letter to your brother, and tell him your story, except, of course,
about this cave. You can say you followed me, and that I and some
smugglers sprang on you and captured you, and have carried you across to
France. All the rest you can tell just as it happened. I don't know as
it will do me any harm. Your folks may believe it, but no one else is
likely to do so. I don't mean to go back to Weymouth again, and if I did
that letter would not be evidence that anyone would send me to trial on.
Anyhow, I will risk that."

"Thank you, with all my heart," Julian said gratefully. "I shall not so
much mind, if Frank and Aunt get my story. I know that they will believe
it if no one else does, and they can move away from Weymouth to some
place where it will not follow them. It won't be so hard for me to bear
then, especially if some day the truth gets to be known. Only please
direct your letters to 'Colonel Chambers, or the Chairman of the
Weymouth magistrates,' because he is at least ten years older than you
are, and might die long before you, and the letter might never be opened
if directed only to him."

"Right you are, lad. I will see to that."

Just at this moment one of the sailors came down from the look-out
above, and said that the signal had just been made from the offing, and
that the lugger's boat would be below in a quarter of an hour. All
prepared for departure; the lower door was unbolted, the lights
extinguished, and they went down to the lower entrance. It was reached
by a staircase cut in the chalk, and coming down into a long and narrow
passage, at the further end of which was the opening Julian had seen
from the sea. The party gathered at the entrance. In a few minutes a
boat with muffled oars approached silently; a rope was lowered, a noose
at its upper end being placed over a short iron bar projecting three or
four inches from the chalk a foot or two inside the entrance.

The French captain went down first. Julian was told to follow. The
sailors and Markham then descended. A sharp jerk shook the rope off the
bar, and the boat then rowed out to the smuggler, which was lying half a
mile from shore. As soon as they were on board the sails were sheeted
home, and the craft began to steal quietly through the water, towing the
boat behind it. The whole operation had been conducted in perfect
silence. The men were accustomed to their work; there was no occasion
for orders, and it was not until they were another mile out that a word
was spoken.

"All has gone off well," the captain then said. "We got the laces and
silks safely away, and the money has been paid for them. The revenue
cutter started early this morning, and was off Lyme Regis this
afternoon, so we shall have a clear run out. We will keep on the course
we are laying till we are well beyond the race, and then make for the
west. We have sent word for them to be on the look-out for us at the old
place near Dartmouth to-morrow night, and if we are not there then, the
night after; if there is danger, they are to send up a rocket from the
hill inland."