A Tale of a Lonely Parish Part 33

"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously.

John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the strong east wind was pa.s.sing over the moon, and for some moments it was almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen.

John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart.

"I am afraid we must have pa.s.sed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs.

G.o.ddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to move off.

"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. G.o.ddard, going close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay, it was a nervous impulse.

"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall."

"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?"

"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall kitchen.

"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs.

G.o.ddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the gloom.

"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the hard ground, to keep himself warm.

"Then we must have pa.s.sed him on the road," said Mrs. G.o.ddard. "But I was so sure I saw n.o.body--"

"I think he will come presently," answered John in a rea.s.suring tone.

"Why do you wait, Mrs. G.o.ddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up."

"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. G.o.ddard, imploringly.

John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly pa.s.sed from before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly.

He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry, the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a feeble and antiquated fas.h.i.+on. For some minutes there was total silence.

Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save the strong east wind rus.h.i.+ng past the cottage and losing itself among the withered oaks of the park opposite.

Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air.

Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently.

"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. G.o.ddard leaned back against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed close to her mother's side.

"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was calling to his dog--"

"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. G.o.ddard in agonised tones, as soon as she could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr.

Short--do go and see--"

Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon John.

"Stay with Mrs. G.o.ddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the top of his speed up the dark avenue.

Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone, swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. G.o.ddard's strange position, and for the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground, where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and tramped along the hard road.

At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it pa.s.sed and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side.

At the same instant--it all happened in the s.p.a.ce of two seconds, Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover himself and turn to spring again, Walter G.o.ddard, who had chanced never to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the ditch and followed him into the gloom.

"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream broke the silence.

A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the prostrate body of Walter G.o.ddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud pa.s.sed from the moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering moonlight. Walter G.o.ddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was.

It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the scene of the disaster.

"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park.

"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he saw.

"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr.

Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is alive?"

John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by G.o.ddard's body and looked into his face.

"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter G.o.ddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground.

"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and drew back a little way from the body.

"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon, and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul by his side.

John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene enough. At his feet lay Walter G.o.ddard's body, faintly illuminated by the struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell Mrs. G.o.ddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. G.o.ddard, he thought. With one more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost close before him. He shouted to Reynolds.

"Whoa, January!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed that ancient functionary as he pulled up Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Ess.e.x and especially of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January"

is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the road. John could see that Mrs. G.o.ddard was seated by the side of Reynolds but that Nellie was not in the cart.

"Oh, Mrs. G.o.ddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad luck for the tramp, though!"

"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. G.o.ddard with a faint cry of horror.

"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching, very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon himself--he will tell you all about it."

The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the house.

"Good Heavens! Mrs. G.o.ddard!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in a tone of profound surprise. But Mrs. G.o.ddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his deeply furrowed face.

"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account t' evenin'."

"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to take Mrs. G.o.ddard home again and call her women to look after her. I fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?"

"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the dog-cart.

"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and you shall have some beer."

"All right, sir."

John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter G.o.ddard had fallen.