Johnny Ludlow Fifth Series Part 39

"Nothing else, sir; except that I fancied Mother Picker knew of it. When Tod and I went to ask her whether Monk was out that night, she looked frightened to death, and broke a basin."

"Did she say he was out?"

"She said he was not out; but I thought she said it more eagerly than truthfully."

"Squire, when you are in doubt as to people's morals, let this boy read them for you," said old Duff, in his quaint way. The Squire, thinking of his plants, looked as perplexed as could be.

"It is such a thing, you know, Duffham, to have one's whole hothouse destroyed in a night. It's no better than arson."

"And the incendiary who did it would have no scruple in attacking the barns next; therefore, he must be bowled out."

The pater looked rueful. He could bl.u.s.ter and threaten, but he could not _do_ much; he never knew how to set about it. In all emergencies he would send for Jones--the greatest old woman going.

"You don't seriously think it could have been Monk, Duffham?"

"I think there's strong suspicion that it was. Look here:" and the doctor began to tell off points with his cane and fingers. "_Somebody_ goes into the greenhouse to set the stuff alight in the pot-stands--for that's how it was done. Monk and Jenkins alone knew where the key was; Jenkins, a trusty man, years in the employ, comes on at six and finds the state of things. Where's Monk? Gone off by previous order to Evesham at five. Why should it happen the very morning he was away? What was to prevent his stealing into the greenhouse after dark last night putting his deleterious stuff to work, leaving it to burn, and stealing in again at four this morning to put all traces away? He thought he cleaned out all the tale-telling earthen saucers, but he overlooks one, as is usually the case. When he comes back, finding the wreck and the commotion consequent upon it, he relates a glib tale of other plants destroyed by a.r.s.enic from candles, and he never looks honestly into a single face as he tells it!"

The Squire drew a deep breath. "And you say Monk did all this?"

"Nonsense, Squire. I say he might have done it. I say, moreover, that it looks very like it. Putting Monk aside, your scent would be wholly at fault."

"What is to be done?"

"I'll go and see Mother Picker; she can tell what time he went in last night, and what time he came out this morning," cried Tod, who was just as hasty as the pater. But old Duff caught him as he was vaulting off.

"_I_ had better see Mother Picker. Will you let me act in this matter, Squire, and see what can be made of it?"

"Do, Duffham. Take Jones to help you?"

"Jones be shot," returned Duff in a pa.s.sion. "If I wanted any one--which I _don't_--I'd take Johnny. He is worth fifty Joneses.

_Say nothing_--nothing at all. Do you understand?"

He went off down a side path, and crossed Jenkins, who was at work now.

Monk stayed in the greenhouse.

"This is a sad calamity, Jenkins."

"It's the worst _I_ ever met with, sir," cried Jenkins, touching his hat. "And what have done it is the odd thing. Monk, he talks of the candles poisoning of 'em; but I don't know."

"Well, there's not a much surer poison than a.r.s.enic, Jenkins," said the doctor, candidly. "I hope it will be cleared up. Monk, too, has taken so much pains with the plants. He is a clever young man in his vocation.

Where did you hear of him?"

Jenkins's answer was a long one. Curtailed, it stated that he had heard of Monk "promiskeous." He had thought him a gentleman till he asked if he, Jenkins, could help him to a place as ornamental gardener. He had rather took to the young man, and recommended the Squire to employ him "temporay," for he, Jenkins, was just then falling sick with rheumatism.

Mr. Duffham nodded approvingly. "Didn't think it necessary to ask for references?"

"Monk said he could give me a cart-load a'most of them, sir, if I'd wanted to see 'em."

"Just so! Good-day, Jenkins, I can't stay gossiping my morning away."

He went straight to Mrs. Picker's, and caught her taking her luncheon off the kitchen-table--bread-and-cheese, and perry.

"It's a little cask o' last year's my son have made me a present of, sir; if you'd be pleased to drink a cup, Dr. Duff'm," said she, hospitably.

She drew a half-pint cup full; bright, sparkling, full-bodied perry, never better made in Gloucesters.h.i.+re. Mr. Duffham smacked his lips, and wished some of the champagne at gentlemen's tables was half as good. He talked, and she talked; and, it may be, he took her a little off her guard. Evidently, she was not cognizant of the mishap to the greenhouse.

A nice young man that lodger of hers? Well, yes, he was; steady and well-conducted. Talked quite like a gentleman, but wasn't uppish 'cause o' that, and seemed satisfied with all she did for him. He was gone off to Evesham after seeds and other things. Squire Todhetley put great confidence in him.

"Ay," said Mr. Duffham, "to be sure. One does put confidence in steady young men, you know, Goody. He was off by four o'clock, wasn't he?"

Earlier nor that, Goody Picker thought. Monk were one o' them who liked to take time by the forelock, and get his extra work forrard when he were put on to any.

"Nothing like putting the shoulder to the wheel. This _is_ perry! The next time I call to see your son Peter, at Alcester, I shall ask him if he can't get some for me. As to Monk--you might have had young fellows here who'd have idled their days away, and paid no rent, Goody. Monk was at his work late last night, too, I fancy?"

Goody fancied he had been; leastways he went out after supper, and were gone an hour or so. What with the fires, and what with the opening and shutting o' the winders to keep the hot-houses at proper temperture, an head-gardener didn't sit on a bed o' idle roses, as Dr. Duff'm knew.

Mr. Duffham was beginning to make pretty sure of winning his game. His manner suddenly changed. Pus.h.i.+ng the empty cup from him, he leaned forward, and laid hold of Mrs. Picker by the two wrists. Between the perry and the doctor's sociability and Monk's merits, her eyes had begun to sparkle.

"Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Picker. I have come here to ask you a question, _and you must answer me_. But you have nothing to fear on your own score, provided you tell me the truth honestly. Young men will do foolish things, however industrious they may be. Why did Monk play that prank on Easter Monday?"

The sparkle in the eyes faded with fright. She would have got away, but could not, and so put on an air of wonder.

"On Easter Monday! What were it he did on Easter Monday?"

"When he put himself and his face into white, and went to the churchyard by moonlight to represent the dead, you know, Mrs. Picker."

She gave a shrill scream, got one of her hands loose and flung it up to her face.

"Come, Goody, you had better answer me quietly than be taken to confess before Squire Todhetley. I dare say you were not to blame."

Afore Squire Todhetley! O-o-o-o-o-h! Did they know it at the Manor?

"Well," said Mr. Duffham, "you see I know it, and I have come straight from there. Now then, my good woman, I have not much time."

Goody Picker's will was good to hold out longer, but she surrendered a coup de main, as so many of us have to do when superior power is brought to bear. Monk overheered it, was the substance of her answer. On coming in from work that there same blessed evening--and look at him now! at his work on a Easter Monday till past dark!--he overheered the two servants, Molly and Hannah, talking of what they was going out to watch for--the shadows in the churchyard. He let 'em go, never showing hisself till they'd left the house. Then he got the sheets from his bed, and put the flour on his face, and went on there to frighten 'em; all in fun.

He never thought of hurting the women; he never knowed as the young girl, Phoebe, was to be there. n.o.body could be more sorry for it nor he was; but he'd never meant to do harm more nor a babby unborn.

Mr. Duffham released the hands. Looking back in reflection, he had little doubt it was as she said--that Monk had done it out of pure sport, not intending ill.

"He might have confessed: it would have been more honest. And you! why did you deny that it was Monk?"

Mrs. Picker at first could only stare in reply. Confess to it? Him?

What, and run the risk o' being put into ancuffs by that there Jones with his fat legs? And she! a poor old widder? If Monk went and said he didn't do it, she couldn't go and say he _did_. Doctor Duff'm might see as there were no choice left for _her_. Never should she forget the fright when the two young gents come in with their querries the next day; her fingers was took with the palsy and dropped the pudd'n basin, as she'd had fifteen year. Monk, poor fellow, couldn't sleep for a peck o' nights after, thinking o' Phoebe.

"There; that's enough," said Mr. Duffham. "Who is Monk? Where does he come from?"

From the moon, for all Mrs. Picker knew. A civiler young man she'd not wish to have lodging with her; paid reg'lar as the Sat.u.r.days come round; but he never told her nothing about hisself.