CHAPTER XVIII
MR. JOSEPH NADIN
The words were addressed to Mr. Sutton, who did not seem able to shutthe door. But the answer came from the other side of the door.
"By your leave,"--the voice, a little breathless, was Mrs.Gilson's--"I'm coming in too." And she came in at that, and brusquely."I think you are over many men for one woman," she continued, settingher cap straight, and otherwise not a whit discomposed by the men'sattitude. "You'll want me before you are done, you'll see."
"Want you?" the strange man answered with sarcasm. "Then when we wantyou we'll send for you."
"No you'll not, Joe Nadin," she retorted, coolly, as she closed thedoor behind her. "For I'll be here. What you will be wanting," with atoss of her double chin, "will be wit. But that's not to be had forthe sending."
Nadin--he was the deputy-constable of Manchester, and the most famouspolice officer of that day, a man as warmly commended by the Toryparty as he was fiercely hated by the Radicals--would have given anangry answer. But Bishop was before him.
"Let her be," he said--with friendly deference. "We may want her, asshe says. And the young lady is waiting. Now, miss," he continued,addressing Henrietta, who stood at the table trying to hide theperturbation which these preliminaries caused her, "I've brought Mr.Sutton to tell us in your presence what he knows. I doubt it won't gofar. So that when we have heard him we shall want a good deal fromyou."
"Ay, from you, young lady," the Manchester man struck in, taking theword out of the other's mouth. "It will be your turn then. And what wewant we must have, or----"
"Or what?" she asked, with an air of dignity that sat strangely on oneso young. They did not guess how her heart was beating!
"Or 'twill be Appleby gaol!" he answered. "That's the long and theshort of it. There's an end of shilly-shallying! You've to make yourchoice, and time's precious. But the reverend gentleman has first say.Speak up, Mr. Chaplain! You followed this young lady last night aboutten o'clock? Very good. Now what did you see and hear?"
Mr. Sutton looked miserably downcast. But he was on the horns of adilemma, and while he knew that by speaking he forfeited all chance ofHenrietta's favour, he knew that he must speak: that he had no choice.Obstinate as he could be upon occasion, in the grasp of such a man asNadin he succumbed. He owned that not the circumstances only but theman were too strong for him. Yet he made one effort to stand on hisown legs. "I think Miss Damer would prefer to tell the tale herself,"he said, with a spark of dignity. "In that case I have nothing tosay."
"I do not know what you mean," Henrietta answered, her lip curling.And she looked at him as she would have looked at Judas.
"Still," he murmured, with a side-glance at Nadin, "if you would beadvised by me----"
"I have nothing to say," she said curtly.
"Mind you, I've told her nothing." Mrs. Gilson said, intervening intime to prevent an outburst on Nadin's part. "I was bid to get hershoes, and I got her shoes. I held my tongue."
"Then she knows nothing!" the chaplain exclaimed.
"Oh, she knows enough," Nadin struck in, his harsh, dogmatic naturegetting the better of him. "If she did not know we should not come toher. We know our business. Now, where's the man hiding? For there theboy will be. Where did you leave him, my lass?"
Mr. Sutton, whom circumstances had forced into a part so distasteful,saw a chance of helping the girl; and even of reinstating himself insome degree in her eyes.
"I can answer that," he said. "She did not meet him. The young ladywent to the bottom of Troutbeck Lane, where, I understand, the boatcame to land. But there was no one there to meet her. And she cameback without seeing any one. I can vouch for that. And that," thechaplain continued, throwing out his chest, and speaking with dignity,"is all that Miss Damer did, and I can speak to it."
Nadin exploded.
"Don't tell me that she went to the place for nothing, man!"
"I tell you only what happened," the chaplain answered, sticking tohis point. "She saw no one, and spoke to no one."
"Hang me if I don't think you are in with her!" Nadin replied in aninsulting tone. And then turning to Henrietta, "Now then, out with it!Where is he?"
But Henrietta, battered by the man's coarse voice and manner, stillheld her ground.
"If I knew I should not tell you," she said.
"Then you'll go to Appleby gaol!"
"And still I shall not tell you."
"Understand! Understand!" Nadin replied. "I've a warrant here grantedin Lancashire and backed here and in order! A warrant to take him. Youcan see it if you like. Don't say I took advantage of you. I'm rough,but I'm square," he continued, his broad dialect such that aSoutherner would not have understood him. "The lads know me, andyou'll know me before we've done!"
"Then it won't be for your wisdom!" Mrs. Gilson muttered. And thenmore loudly, "Why don't you tell her what's been done? Happen sheknows, and happen she doesn't. If she does 'tis all one. If shedoesn't you're talking to deaf ears."
Nadin shrugged his shoulders and struck his boot with his whip.
"Well," he said, "an old lass with a long tongue will have her way i'Lancashire or where it be! Tell her yourself. But she knows, Iwarrant!"
Mrs. Gilson also thought so, but she was not sure.
"See here, miss," she said, "you know Captain Clyne's son?"
Henrietta's colour rose at the name.
"Of course you do," the landlady continued, "for if all's true you aresome sort of connection. Then you know, Miss, that he's the apple ofhis father's eye, and the more for being a lameter?"
Henrietta could not hear Anthony Clyne's name without agitation;without vague apprehensions and a sense of coming evil. Why did theybring in the name? And what were they going to tell her about theboy--of whom in the old days she had been contemptuously jealous? Shefelt her face burn under the gaze of all those eyes fixed on it. Andher own eyes sank.
"Well," she muttered indistinctly, "what of him? What has he to dowith this?"
"He is missing. He has been stolen."
"Stolen?"
Her tone was one of sharp surprise.
"He was carried off last night by two men," Bishop struck in. "Hisnurse was returning to the house near Newby Bridge--hard on nightfall,when she met two men on the road. They asked the name of the place,heard what it was, and asked who the child was. She told them, andthey went one way and she another, but before she reached home theyovertook her, seized her and bound her, and disappeared with the boy.It was dusk and she might have lain in the ditch and died. But theservants in the house went out when she did not return and found her."He looked at Nadin. "That's so, isn't it?"
"Ay, that's it," the other answered, nodding. "You've got it pat."
"When she could speak, the alarm was given, they raised the country,the men were traced to Newby Bridge. There we know a boat met them andtook them off. And the point, miss, is not so much where they landed,for that we know--'twas at the bottom of Troutbeck Lane!--as wherethey are now."
She had turned pale and red and pale again, while she listened.Astonishment had given place to horror, and resentment to pity. Inwomen, even the youngest, there is a secret tenderness for children;and the thought of this child, cast lame and helpless into the handsof strangers, and exposed, in place of the care to which he had beenaccustomed all his life, to brutality and hardships, pierced the crustof jealousy and melted the woman's heart. Her eyes filled with tears,and through the tears indignation burned. For a moment even the insultwhich Anthony Clyne had put upon her was forgotten. She thought onlyof the father's misery, his suspense, his grief. She yearned to him.
"Oh!" she cried, "the wretches!" And her voice rang bravely. "But--butwhy are you here? Why do you not follow them?"
Nadin's eyes met Bishop's. He raised his eyebrows.
"Because, miss," he said, "we think there's a shorter way to them.Because we think you can tell us where they are if you choose."
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p; "I can tell you where they are?" she repeated.
"Yes, miss. We believe that you can--if you choose. And you _must_choose."
The girl stared. Then slowly she comprehended. She grasped the factthat they addressed the question to her, that they believed that shewas at one with the men who had done this. And a change ascharacteristic of her nature as it was unexpected by those who watchedher, swept over her face. Her features quivered, and, even as whenAnthony Clyne's proposal wounded her pride to the quick, she turnedfrom them, and bowing her head on her hands broke into weeping.
They were all taken aback. They had looked some for one thing, somefor another; some for rage and scorn, some for sullen denial. No onehad foreseen this breakdown. Nor was it welcome. Nadin found himselfchecked on the threshold of success, and swore under his breath.Bishop, who had broken a lance with her before, and was more or lesstender-hearted, looked vexed. Mr. Sutton showed open distress--herweeping hurt him, and at every quiver of her slight, girlish figure hewinced. While Mrs. Gilson frowned; perhaps at the clumsiness andwitlessness of men-folk. But she did not interfere, and the chaplaindared not interfere: and Nadin was left to deal with the girl as hepleased.
"There, miss," he said, speaking a little less harshly, "tears mend nobones. And there's one thing clear in this and not to be denied--themen who have taken the lad are friends of your friend. And not a doubthe's in it. We've traced them to a place not three hundred yards fromhere. They've vanished where he vanished, and there's no need of magicto tell that the same hole hides all. I was on the track of the menwith a warrant--for they are d----d Radicals as ever were!--when theyslipped off and played this pretty trick by the way. Whether they havekidnapped the lad out of revenge, or for a hostage, I'm in the dark.But put-up job or not, you are not the young lady to back up suchdoings. I see that with half an eye," he added cunningly, "andtherefore----"
"Have you got it from her?"
Nadin turned with a frown--the interruption came from Mr. Hornyold.The justice had just entered, and stood booted, spurred, and pompouson the threshold. He carried his heavy riding-whip, and was in allpoints ready for the road.
"No, not yet," Nadin answered curtly, "but----"
"You'd better; let me try her, then," the magistrate rejoined, allfussiness and importance. "There's no time to be lost. We're gettingtogether. I've a dozen mounted men in the yard, and they are coming infrom Rydal side. We shall have two score in an hour. We'll have thehills scoured before nightfall, and long before Captain Clyne ishere."
"Quite so, squire," Nadin replied drily. "But if the young lady willtell us where the scoundrel lies we'll be spared the trouble. Now,miss," he continued, forgetting, under the impetus of Hornyold'smanner, the more diplomatic line he had been following, "we've ad----d clear case against you, and that's flat. We can trace you towhere they landed last night, and we know that you were there within afew minutes of the time; for we've their footsteps from the boat tothe wood above the road, and your footsteps from the boat to the inn.There is as much evidence of aiding and abetting as would transport adozen men! So do you be wise, and tell us straight off what we want."
But two words had caught her ear.
"Aiding and abetting?" she muttered. And she turned her eyes, stillbright with tears, upon him. Her flushed face and ruffled hair gaveher a strangely childish appearance. "Aiding and abetting? Do you meanthat you think that I--that I had anything to do with taking thechild?"
"No, no," Bishop murmured hurriedly, and cast a warning look at hiscolleague. "No, no, not knowingly."
"Nay, but that depends," Nadin persisted obstinately. His fibre wascoarser, and his perceptions were less acute. It was his habit to gainhis ends by fear, and he was unwilling to lose the hold he had overher. "That depends," he repeated doggedly. "If you speak and tell usall you know, of course not. But if you do not speak, we shall take itagainst you."
"You will take it," she cried, "that I--I helped to steal the child?"
"Just so, if you don't speak," Nadin repeated, disregarding hisfellow's signals. Firmness, he was sure, was all that was needed. Justfirmness.
She was silent in great agitation. They suspected her! Oh, it waswicked, it was vile of them! She would not have touched a hair of thechild's head. And they suspected Walterson; but it might be asfalsely, it must be as falsely. Yet if she gave him up, even if hewere innocent he would suffer. He would suffer on other charges, andshe would have his blood on her hands though she had so often, sooften, resolved that she would not be driven to that!
They asked too much of her. They asked her to betray the man to deathon the chance--and she did not believe in the chance--that it wouldrestore the child to its father. She shuddered as she thought of thechild, as she thought of Anthony Clyne's grief; she would willinglyhave done much to help the one and the other. But they asked too much.If it were anything short of the man's life that they asked, she wouldbe guided, she would do as they bade her. But this step wasirrevocable: and she was asked to take it on a chance. Possibly theydid not themselves believe in the chance. Possibly they made thecharge for their own purposes, their aim to get the man into theirpower, the blood-money into their purse. She shuddered at that andfound the dilemma cruel. But she had no doubt which course she mustfollow. No longer did any thought of herself or of the annoyances ofhis arrest weigh with her: thought of the child had outweighed allthat. But she would not without proof, without clear proof, have theman's blood on her hands.
And regarding them with a pale set face,
"If you have proof," she said, "that he--Walterson--" she pronouncedthe name with an effort--"was concerned in carrying off the child, Iwill speak."
"Proof?" Nadin barked.
"Yes," she said. "If you can satisfy me that he was privy to this--Iwill tell you all I know."
Nadin exploded.
"Proof?" he cried with violence. "Why, by G--d, was he not at theplace where we know the men landed? And didn't you expect to meet himthere? And at the very hour?"
"He was not there," she cried.
"But----"
"And I was there," she continued, "yet I know nothing. I am innocent."
"Umph! I don't know!" Nadin growled.
"But I do," she replied. "If your proof comes only to that---"
"But the men who took the child are old mates of his!"
"How do you know?" she returned. "You did not see them. They may notbe the men you wished to arrest. But," scornfully, "I see what kind ofproof you have, and I shall not tell you."
"Come, miss," Bishop said, staying with difficulty Nadin's furiousanswer. "Come, miss, think! Think again. Think of the child!"
"Oh, sink the child," the Manchester officer struck in. He had seldombeen so handled. "Think of yourself!"
"You will send me to prison?" she said.
"By heaven we will!" he answered. And Mr. Hornyold nodded.
"It must be so, then," she replied with dignity. "I shall not speak. Ihave no right to speak."
They all cried out on her, Bishop and Mr. Sutton appealing to her,Nadin growling oaths, Mr. Hornyold threatening that he would make outthe warrant that minute. Only the landlady, with her apron rolledround her arms, stood grim and silent; a looker-on whose taciturnitypresently irritated Nadin beyond bearing. "I suppose you think," hesaid, turning to her, "that you could have handled her better?"
"I couldn't ha' handled her worse!" the landlady replied.
"You think yourself a Solomon!" he sneered.
"A girl of ten's a Solomon to you!" the landlady retorted keenly. "Itcanna be for this, it surely canna be for this, Joe Nadin, that theypay you money at Manchester, and that 'tis said you go in risk of yourlife! Why, that Bishop, London chap as he is, is a greybeard besideyou. He does know that Bluster is a good dog but Softly is better!"
"Well, as I live by bread I'll have her in the Stone Jug!" heretorted. "And then we'll see!"
"There's another will see before you!" Mrs. Gilson answered drily."And it strikes me he's not far off. If you'd l
eft her alone for justan hour and seen what his honour Captain Clyne could do with her,you'd have shown your sense!" shrugging her shoulders. "Now, I fearyou've spoiled his market, my lad!"
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