Children of the Mist Part 77

"Guess you 'm dreamin', Blee," said Mr. Lyddon, as he took his hat and walked into the farmyard.

Billy was hurt.

"Dreamin', be I? I'm a man as dreams blue murders, of coourse! Tu auld to be relied on now, I s'pose. Theer! Theer!" he changed his voice and it ran into a cracked scream of excitement. "Theer! P'r'aps I'm dreamin', as Inspector Chown an' Constable Lamacraft be walkin' in the gate this instant moment!"

But there was no mistaking this fact. Abraham Chown entered, marched solemnly to the party at the door, cried "Halt!" to his subordinate, then turned to Mr. Lyddon.

"Good-day to you, Miller," he said, "though 't is a bad day, I'm fearin'. I be here for Will Blanchard, _alias_ Tom Newcombe."

"If you mean my son-in-law, he 's not out of bed to my knawledge."

"Dear sawls! Doan't 'e say 't is blue murder--doan't 'e say that!"

implored Mr. Blee. His head shook and his tongue revolved round his lips.

"Not as I knaws. We 'm actin' on instructions from the military to Plymouth."

"Theer 's allus wickedness hid under a alias notwithstanding," declared Billy, rather disappointed; "have 'e found Jan Grimbal?"

"They be searchin' for un. Jim Luke, Inspector to Moreton, an' his men be out beatin' the country. But I'm here, wi' my staff, for William Blanchard. March!"

Lamacraft, thus addressed, proceeded a pace or two until stopped by Mr.

Lyddon.

"No call to go in. He'll come down. But I'm sore puzzled to knaw what this means, for awnly last night I heard tell from Jan Grimbal's awn lips that he'd chaanged his mind about a private matter bearin' on this."

"I want the man, anyways, an' I be gwaine to have un," declared Inspector Chown. He brought a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and gave them to the constable.

"Put up them gashly things, Abraham Chown," said the miller sternly.

"Doan't 'e knaw Blanchard better 'n that?"

"Handcuffed he'll be, whether he likes it or not," answered the other; "an' if theer's trouble, I bid all present an' any able-bodied men 'pon the premises to help me take him in the Queen's name."

Billy hobbled round the corner, thrust two fingers into his mouth, and blew a quavering whistle; whereupon two labourers, working a few hundred yards off, immediately dropped their tools and joined him.

"Run you here," he cried. "P'lice be corned to taake Will Blanchard, an'

us must all give the Law a hand, for theer'll be blows struck if I knaw un."

"Will Blanchard! What have he done?"

"Been under a alias--that's the least of it, but--G.o.d, He knaws--it may rise to murder. 'T is our bounden duty to help Chown against un."

"Be danged if I do!" said one of the men.

"Nor me," declared the other. "Let Chown do his job hisself--an' get his jaw broke for his trouble."

But they followed Mr. Blee to where the miller still argued against Lamacraft's entrance.

"Why didn't they send soldiers for un? That's what he reckoned on,"

said Mr. Lyddon.

"'T is my job fust."

"I'm sorry you've come in this high spirit. You knaw the man and ought to taake his word he'd go quiet and my guarantee for it."

"I knaw my duty, an' doan't want no teachin' from you."

"You're a fule!" said Miller, in some anger. "An' 't will take more 'n you an' that moon-faced lout to put them things on the man, or I'm much mistaken."

He went indoors while the labourers laughed, and the younger constable blushed at the insult.

"How do 'e like that, Peter Lamacraft?" asked a labourer.

"No odds to me," answered the policeman, licking his hands nervously and looking at the door. "I ban't feared of nought said or done if I've got the Law behind me. An' you'm liable yourself if you doan't help."

"Caan't wait no more," declared Mr. Chown. "If he's in bed, us'll take un in bed. Come on, you!"

Thus ordered to proceed, Lamacraft set his face resolutely forward and was just entering the farm when Phoebe appeared. Her tears were dry, though her voice was unsteady and her eyelids red.

"Gude mornin', Mr. Chown," she said.

"Marnin', ma'am. Let us pa.s.s, if you please."

"Are you coming in? Why?"

"Us caan't bide no more, an' us caan't give no more reasons. The Law ban't 'spected to give reasons for its deeds, an' us won't be bamboozled an' put off a minute longer," answered Chown grimly. "March, I tell 'e, Peter Lamacraft."

"You caan't see my husband."

"But we'm gwaine to see un. He've got to see me, an' come along wi' me, tu. An' if he's wise, he'll come quiet an' keep his mouth shut. That much I'll tell un for his gude."

"If you'll listen, I might make you onderstand how 'tis you caan't see Will," said Phoebe quietly. "You must knaw he runned away an' went soldiering before he married me. Then he comed back for love of me wi'out axin' any man's leave."

"So much the worse, ma'am; he'm a desarter!"

"The dark wickedness!" gasped Mr. Blee; "an' him dumb as a newt 'bout it all these years an' years! The conscience of un!"

"Well, you needn't trouble any more," continued Phoebe to the policemen.

"My husband be gwaine to take this matter into his awn hands now."

Inspector Chown laughed.

"That's gude, that is!--now he 'm blawn upon!"

"He 's gwaine to give himself up--he caan't do more," said Phoebe, turning to her father who now reappeared.

"Coourse he caan't do more. What more do 'e want?" the miller inquired.

"Him," answered Mr. Chown. "No more an' no less; an' everything said will be used against him."