The Solitary Farm

"No!" snapped Timson, whose meekness was giving way. "She called to make her will."

"Make her will – in whose favour?"

"I see no reason why I should not tell you," said the lawyer, "although I never reveal professional secrets. But I will tell, so that you may see how you have misjudged my client. She made a will in favour of Miss Isabella Faith – "

"Faith? Ah! she knew, then, that the girl was not her niece."

"Yes. But she did not tell me that, nor did I inquire. All she did was to make me, or, rather instruct me, to draw up a will leaving the Bleacres property and the five hundred a year she inherited from the late Captain Huxham, to Miss Faith, as some token of repentance for having misjudged her. And now," cried Timson, rising wrathfully, "my respected client is misjudged herself. I come to clear her character."

"I don't see how that will clears her character," said Inglis coolly, "and from the mere fact that she made it I daresay she has committed suicide."

"Impossible! Impossible!"

"I think it is very probable, indeed, Mr. Timson, Mrs. Vand cannot get out of England, as all the ports and railway stations are watched, and there is a full description of her appearance posted everywhere. Unless she wants to get a long sentence for complicity in this most brutal murder, she will have to commit suicide."

"I tell you she is innocent."

"Can you tell me that she is not an accomplice after the fact?"

"A wife is not bound to give evidence against her husband."

Inspector Inglis rose with a fatigued air. "I am not here to argue on points of law with you, Mr. Timson. All I ask is, if you know where your respected client is?" he laid a sneering emphasis on his last words.

"No, I do not," said Timson, taking up his hat, "and I bid you good day."

What the lawyer said was evidently correct, for although his office and himself were watched by the police, it could not be proved that he was in communication with the missing woman. The whereabouts of Mrs. Vand became more of a mystery than ever. Inglis told Bella of her good fortune, but of course until Mrs. Vand was dead she could not benefit. And there seemed to be no chance of proving the woman's death, even though the inspector firmly held to the opinion that she had committed suicide.

Meantime Timson went on to Marshely to look after his client's property, and seeing that the corn was ripe, he arranged with a number of labourers, under an overseer whom he could trust, that it should be reaped immediately. Thus it happened that four days after Mrs. Vand's disappearance, when Cyril came to tell Bella about the inquest, she was able to inform him that the Solitary Farm lands were about to be reaped.

"And we might go there in the evening to look," said Bella.

"My dear, I should think that the Manor was hateful to you."

"Well, it is. Even if I do inherit it from Mrs. Vand, I can never live there, Cyril. But I want you to come with me this evening, as I have a kind of idea that the body of Mrs. Vand" – she grew pale and shuddered – "may be found amidst the corn."

Cyril started back, astonished. "My dear girl, you must be mad!"

"No, I am not, Cyril. Think of how she is being hunted, and how her person is described everywhere, while all the ports and stations are watched. I believe that she, poor woman! went to see her lawyer, so as to prove her sorrow for having misjudged me, by making me her heiress, and that she then returned to die amidst the corn."

"Do you think she is dead there?"

"Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Granny Tunks is still in the hut, and she is very avaricious. Mrs. Vand had money. She may have bribed Granny to bring her food while she lay hid among the corn."

"But such a hiding-place!" said Lister, who nevertheless was much struck with what Bella was saying.

"A very good one and a place where no one would think of looking. Think how thick the corn is growing! No one ever enters it, and that scarlet coated scarecrow stands sentinel over it. Believe me, Cyril, Mrs. Vand has been hiding there. I wish you to come with me this evening. They have started to reap the corn by order of Mr. Timson. If Mrs. Vand is there, she will in the end be discovered. Let us find her, and save her, and get her out of the kingdom."

"That will bring us within reach of the law."

"I don't care," said Bella, quite recklessly; "after all, she had nothing to do with the crime, and only kept silent to shield her husband. I want to help the poor thing, and you must aid me to do so."

"But Bella, she never liked you."

"What has that got to do with it?" cried the girl passionately. "Our natures did not suit one another, and perhaps I behaved rather harshly towards her. She meant well. And remember, Cyril, she has made amends by leaving me all that would have been mine had I really been Captain Huxham's daughter."

Cyril nodded. "I admit that she has done her best to repent," he said after a pause, "and we should not judge her too harshly. I'll come."

"And help her to escape?"

"Yes. It won't be easy; but I'll do my best."

"That's my own dear boy," said the girl, kissing him, "and now what about the inquest?"

"A verdict of death by drowning has been brought in," said Cyril quickly. "I think if we can get Mrs. Vand away, everything concerning the Huxham mystery will be at an end."

"They won't put the whole story in the papers, Cyril?"

"No. Inglis will edit all that is to be given to the reporters and journalists. He will say as little as possible about the matter. It is known that Huxham was murdered by Vand, and in the absence of my father's body no cognisance can be taken of that alleged murder."

"Don't you believe that your father has been murdered?"

"I don't know; I can't tell. Tunks says so, and I don't suppose he would tell such a story against himself unless it were true. But no body has been found, and until the body of the missing man is found, it is presumed in law that he is alive. But" – Cyril shrugged his shoulders – "who can tell the truth?"

"It will be made manifest in time," said Bella firmly; "your father, or your father's body, will be found. Where are Durgo and Henry to be buried?"

"In Marshely churchyard to-morrow. I shall go to the funeral. I am sorry for Durgo. In spite of his skin he was a real white man. And when he is under the earth, Bella, I think we had better sell the jewels and marry, and take a trip round the world in order to forget all this terrible business. I am quite glad it is over."

"It is not over yet," insisted Bella, "your father has to be found, and Mrs. Vand must be discovered."

"Or their bodies," said Cyril significantly, and turned away.

It must not be thought that young Lister was callous. His father had never been one to him, and, moreover, his son had seen so little of him, that he was as strange to the young man as he had been to the boy. Cyril deeply regretted the gulf that was between them, as he was of a truly affectionate nature, but his father always had repelled the least sign of tenderness. He only looked on Cyril as one to be made use of, and borrowed from him on every occasion. Had he succeeded in getting the jewels and had aided Durgo to regain his chiefdom, he would have remained in Nigeria as a kind of savage prime minister, without casting a thought to his son. And whether his father was dead or alive, Cyril knew that he would have to repay the one thousand pounds which he had borrowed to cover his father's delinquency in respect of the forged cheque. How could such a son as Cyril Lister respect or love such a parent as Edwin of the same name?

Nevertheless, Cyril, although he said little to Bella, was very anxious to ascertain the fate of his father. It seemed very certain that Tunks had seen him murdered by the evil-hearted old sailor, but what that scoundrel had done with the body could not be discovered. In vain the police dug in the cellars of the Manor-house, tapped the walls, ripped up the floors, and dragged the boundary channel. The body of Edwin Lister could not be found, and as no one had seen him save Tunks, and Pence, and Bella, who had all mistaken him for Cyril, the police began to believe that Edwin, the father, was a myth. And Cyril could not make Inglis see otherwise for all his urging and confession.

"If the man is alive, why doesn't he turn up?" asked Inglis; "and if dead, why can't we find his body?"

There was no answer to this, and Cyril gave up his father's fate as a riddle, when he walked in the cool of the evening towards the Solitary Farm. The immediate object of his visit was to find if Mrs. Vand, dead or alive, was concealed in the thickly standing corn. Bella strolled by his side. But the lovers had taken no one into this particular confidence, not even Dora, and walked towards the well-known house, and up the corn-path, anxiously looking right and left. Then Cyril uttered an exclamation of annoyance. "What a bother!" he said, much vexed: "see, Bella, there are labourers still reaping – yonder, near the scarecrow."

"I suppose Mr. Timson wants the fields reaped quickly," said Bella, also much vexed. "I thought everyone would have been gone by this time. We must wait until the labourers depart, Cyril. It will never do to find Mrs. Vand while they are about. They would tell the police, and she would be arrested. That would be dangerous!"

"So it will be – if she is alive," said the young man, who was very doubtful on this point himself.

The setting sun cast a rosy glow over the fields of golden grain. The old house seemed to be buried in a treasure meadow. All round rolled the radiant waves, and the scarlet-coated scarecrow's task was nearly done. The corn was ripe for the harvest, and soon the acres of the Solitary Farm would consist of nothing but stubble.

As the lovers drew near the house, they saw a labourer approach the scarecrow. The corn had been reaped for some distance all round it, and now a man had cut a path direct to it in order to pull it down. Its task was over, and it was no longer needed to keep off the birds. Suddenly the man laid his hand on the quaint figure, which had been so familiar to every one for months, and uttered a loud cry of astonishment. Cyril saw him beckoning to other labourers, and shortly there was a crowd round the scarlet coat.

"What is the matter?" asked Bella, and the lovers hurried to join the group.

One of the labourers heard the question, and turned excitedly. "Master! Missus!" he said, in horrified tone, "it's a corpse."

He pulled the tattered gray felt hat from the scarecrow, and Cyril recoiled with a loud cry of surprise. "Bella! Bella!"

"What is it? what is it?" she said, startled by the discovery.

"It is my father. It is Edwin Lister."

All present knew of the tragedy, and of the hunt made for Edwin Lister. And now the missing man had been discovered. One of the labourers, mindful of public house gossip, touched the drooping neck of the figure, and shuddered. "Take missy away," he said softly to Cyril, and with a grey face, "this ain't no sight for her. His throat has been cut."

But it was not the man who led the girl away. Bella saw the labourer's face, guessed, with a shudder, what he had said, and, catching Cyril's arm, dragged him away from that awful spot. The young fellow, with a blanched face and tottering limbs, stumbled blindly along as she pulled him forward. In all his expectations, he had never counted upon such a terrible dramatic discovery as this. His father, the missing man, the murdered man, who had been hunted for alive and dead for many weeks, had been used by Captain Huxham as a scarecrow to frighten the birds. No wonder they had kept away from those sinister fields.

"Oh, great God!" moaned Cyril, sick and faint, "let this be the end."

CHAPTER XXV

RUN TO EARTH

The quiet village of Marshely, in Essex, was getting to be as well-known through the length and breadth of England as Westminster Abbey. The murder of Captain Huxham had caused a sensation, the death of Durgo and Vand had created another one, but the discovery of the ghastly scarecrow which had warned the birds from the corn-fields of Bleacres, startled everyone greatly. The news flew like wild fire through the village, and in less than an hour the inhabitants were surveying the terrible object.

Shortly the constable of the village who had superseded Dutton – in disgrace for his share in the escape of Mrs. Vand – appeared, and, armed with the authority of the law and assisted by willing hands, removed the poor relic of humanity from the pole whereupon it had hung for so long. The explanation of its being there was easy. Undoubtedly Captain Huxham, after he had committed the crime, and while Tunks and Pence were away, the one through horror and the other through sheer worry, had carried out the dead body to fasten it to the pole. He undressed the straw-stuffed figure, with which everyone was familiar, and having destroyed it arrayed the corpse of Edwin Lister in its military clothes. Then he pulled the tattered grey felt cap well over the face so that it should not be suspected as being that of a human being, and bound the dead to the pole. Of course, no one, not even the Vands, suspected that the figure was other than what it had always been, and it said much for the cruel ingenuity of Captain Jabez Huxham that he had selected so clever a mode of disposing of the body. Had he thrown it into the boundary channel it might have been fished out; had he concealed it in the house, it would probably have been discovered; and had he buried it in the garden near the house, it might have been dug up. But no one ever dreamed that the scarlet-coated scarecrow was the man who was wanted. Huxham had been struck down almost immediately after he had put his scheme into execution, and it was doubtful if he had intended to leave the body there. Probably he did, as it was isolated by the corn, and when the field was reaped he doubtless intended to get rid of the corpse in some equally ingenious way. The removal of the scarecrow would have excited no comment when the fields were reaped, as its career of usefulness would then be at an end. The dead man's clothes still clothed his corpse under the scarecrow's ragged garments.

One result of the discovery was that everyone decided not to buy the corn which had flourished under so terrible a guardian. Far and wide the newspapers spread the report of the discovery, and Timson became aware that a prejudice existed against making bread of the wheat grown on the Bleacres ground. Not wishing to spend more money, since he would have to account for everything he did to Mrs. Vand, he withdrew the labourers. The Solitary Farm now became solitary indeed, for no one would go near it, especially after night-fall. The golden fields of wheat spread round it like a sea, and the ancient house stood up greyly and lonely like a thing accursed. And indeed it was looked upon as damned by the villagers.

An inquest was held, and, going by the evidence of Luke Tunks, it was decided that Edwin Lister came by his end at the hands of Jabez Huxham. Cyril was compelled to attend and give evidence, but said as little as he could, not wishing to make his father's shady career too public. He simply stated that his father was a trader in Nigeria, and being the friend of Durgo, the dispossessed chief of a friendly tribe in the far Hinterland, had come home to see Huxham and get from him certain jewels. Of course he could not suppress the fact that these jewels had been given by Kawal to Maxwell Faith, and had been stolen from the dead body of the man by his murderer, Captain Huxham: nor could he fail to state that Bella was the daughter of Maxwell Faith, since had he not done so the jewels might have been taken from her. But Cyril spoke as clearly and carefully as he could, quite aware of the delicate position he occupied. There was no doubt that Huxham, dreading lest the murder of Faith should be brought home to him, and anxious to retain the jewels which were the price of blood, had murdered Lister; afterwards he had disposed of the body in the ingenious manner explained. But Lister was dead; Huxham was dead; Vand and Durgo were dead, so the papers suggested that there should be an end to the succession of terrible events which made Marshely so notorious.

"And I think this is the last," said Cyril, when he returned to Miss Ankers' cottage from his father's funeral. "Bella, we can't stay here."

"I'm sure I don't want to," replied the harassed girl, who looked worn and thin. "The place is getting on my nerves. I'll marry you as soon as you like, dear, and then we can go away. But this morning" – she hesitated – "I received a letter from my father's relatives. They ask me to come to them."

"What will you do?" asked Cyril gravely.

"Write and say that I am marrying you and intend to go abroad."

"But, Bella, if you reside with your relatives you may be able to make a much better match."

"Yes," said Bella with a grimace. "I might marry a Quaker. No, dear, I intend to stay with you and marry you. I have done without my relatives for all this time, and I hope to continue doing without them."

"Bella! Bella! I have nothing to offer you."

"Yourself, dear. That is all I want."

"A stupid gift on my part," said Cyril, looking ruefully in a near mirror at his face, which was now lean and haggard. "You have the money, and also the sympathy of the public. I can offer you nothing but a dishonoured name."

"Oh, nonsense!" she said vigorously. "I won't have you talk in that way. Why, one of the newspapers referred to your father as a pioneer of Empire."

Sad as he was Cyril could not help smiling. "That is just like my father's good luck," he exclaimed; "alive or dead, everything comes to him. I expect his shady doings will be overlooked, and – "

"No one knows of his shady doings, dear."

"Well, then, he will be looked upon as a hero. It's just as well he is buried in Marshely churchyard, for some fanatic might propose to bury him in Westminster Abbey."

"You will be congratulated on having such a father."

"No!" cried Cyril violently. "I won't stand that, Bella. We shall go to London next week and get married in a registry office. Miss Ankers can come with you to play propriety."

Bella laughed. "I rather think Dora is so busy nursing poor Mr. Pence back to health that she has no time."

"Why, you don't mean to say that she loves Pence?"

"Yes and no. I won't say what may happen. She pities him for his weakness, and pity, as you know, is akin to love. Besides, only ourselves and Inspector Inglis know of the temptation to which Mr. Pence was submitted."

"Why, Bella, everyone knows he saw the corpse of Huxham and held his tongue."

"Yes, but everyone doesn't know that he took the one hundred pounds which he restored to me. He is looked upon as somewhat weak for not having informed the police of the crime, but on the whole people are sorry for him."

"I shall be sorry, too, if a nice little woman like Miss Ankers marries such a backboneless creature."

"Cyril! Cyril! have not our late troubles shown you that we must judge no one? After what we have undergone I shall never, never give an opinion about anyone again. I am sorry now that I did not behave better to poor Mrs. Vand. When my supposed father was alive I did treat her haughtily. No wonder she disliked me."

"My dear," said Lister, taking her hand, "don't be too hard on yourself. You and your so-called aunt would never have got on well together."

"But I might have been kinder," said Bella, almost crying; "now that she is dead and gone I feel that I might have been kinder."

"How do you know that she is dead and gone?" asked Cyril, in so strange a tone that Bella, dashing the tears from her eyes, looked at him inquiringly. "She is alive," he replied to that mute interrogation.

"Oh, Cyril, I am so glad! Tell me all about it."

"I don't know that I am glad, poor soul," said Lister sadly. "The police are on her track. I didn't want to tell you, Bella, but for the last two days the papers have been full of the hunt after Mrs. Vand."

"Why didn't Dora tell me?"

"I asked her not to. You have had quite enough to bear."

"Well, now that you have told me some, tell me all."

"There isn't much to tell. Some too clever landlady in Bloomsbury suspected a quiet lady lodger. It certainly was Mrs. Vand, but she became suspicious of her landlady and cleared out. Then she was seen at Putney, and afterwards someone noticed her in Hampstead. The papers having been taunting the police about the matter, they'll catch her in the end."

"Poor Mrs. Vand! poor Mrs. Vand!" The girl's eyes again filled with tears.

"We can't help her, Bella. I wish Timson could get hold of her and induce her to stand her trial. I don't think either judge or jury would be hard on her; more, I fancy that her brain must be turned with all this misery."

"And she has lost her husband, too," sighed Bella; "she loved him so. Oh, dear Cyril, what should I do if I lost you?"

Before Lister could reply with the usual lover-like attentions there was a noise in the road, and looking through the window they saw many people hurrying along. Dora came in at the moment from the other room, whither she always discreetly withdrew when not nursing Pence.

"It is only some policeman they are running after. He declares that Mrs. Vand is in the neighbourhood. If she is I hope she will escape."

"By Jove! I must go out and see," said Cyril, seizing his hat.

"I shall come also," cried Bella, and in a few minutes the two were on the road. But by this time the people were not tearing along as they had been, and one villager told Lister that it had been a false alarm.

"The old vixen won't come back to her first hole," said the villager with a coarse laugh, and Bella frowned at him for his inhumanity.

As there really was nothing to hurry for the lovers strolled easily along the road talking of their future. "Bella, you haven't many boxes?" asked Cyril.

"Only two. Why do you ask?"

"Will you be ready to come with me to London to-morrow?"

"Yes; I shall be glad to get out of Marshely, where I have been so miserable. Only I wish I knew where Mrs. Vand is, poor soul."

Cyril passed over the reference to Mrs. Vand, as he was weary of discussing that unfortunate woman. "There's a chum of mine got a motor," said the young man. "I wrote and asked him for the loan of it. He brought it down last night, and it is safely bestowed in the stables of 'The Chequers.' To-morrow at nine o'clock let us start off with your boxes – "

"And Dora?"

"No," said Cyril, very decidedly. "Dora can remain with Pence, whom she probably will marry. We will go to London and get married at a registry office in the afternoon, and then cross to Paris for our honeymoon. I haven't much money, Miss Rothschild, but I have enough for that. In our own happiness let us forget all our troubles."

"I'll come," said Bella with a sigh. "After all, we can do nothing. By the way, Cyril, what about Durgo's things?"

"Well it's odd you should mention that. He evidently thought that something might happen to him on that night, for he left a note behind him saying that if he did not return they were to be given to me. So I have shifted them long since to my lodgings. There they lie packed up, and ready to be taken away in our motor to-morrow."

"Cyril, you have been arranging this for some time?"

"Well, I have. It's the only way of getting you to leave this place, and you will always be miserable while you remain here."

"I only stayed in the hope that poor Mrs. Vand might return, and then I would be able to comfort her. Oh! how I wish Durgo with his occult powers was here to help us."

"I don't; Durgo's occult powers brought him little happiness, and didn't solve the mystery of my father's death. One would have thought that Granny Tunks, in her trances, would have told Durgo that the scarecrow which he saw daily was his dearly-beloved master's dead body."

"It is strange," said Bella thoughtfully; "but then, as Durgo said about something else, perhaps it was not permitted. What's become of Granny Tunks, Cyril? Is she still at the hut?"

"Yes; but I heard to-day that she is going on the road again with her old tribe of the Lovels. I daresay Granny will be at all the fairs and race meetings, swindling people for many a long day."