by G. A. Henty
obtained permission from the magistrates to do so. I shall go now and see Charlie and tell him all about it. It will cheer him very much, poor boy. You may be sure he didn't think you guilty; still, your assurance that you know nothing whatever about it will be a comfort to him."
"Yes," Ned said, "Charlie knows that I would not tell a lie to save my life, though he knows that I might possibly kill anyone when I am in one of my horrible tempers; and I did think I was getting over them, Mr. Por-son!" he broke out with a half sob. " I have really tried hard."
" I know you have, Ned. I am sure you have done your best, my boy, and you have been sorely tried; but, now, I must be off. Keep up your spirits, hope for the best, and pray God to strengthen you to bear whatever may be in store for you, and to clear you from this charge."
That evening when Mr. Porson was in his study the servant came in and said that a young man wished to speak to him.
"Who is it, Mary?"
" He says his name is Bill Swinton, sir."
"Oh! I know," the master said; "show him in."
Bill was ushered in.
"Sit down, Bill," Mr. Porson said; "I have heard of you as a friend of Sankey's. I suppose you have come to speak to me about this terrible business?"
" Ay," Bill said, " that oi be, sir, seeing as how Ned always spake of you as a true friend, and loiked you
hearty. They say too as you ha' engaged lawyer Wakefield to defend him."
" That is so, Bill. I am convinced of the boy's innocence. He has always been a favourite of mine. He has no relations to stand by him now, poor boy, so we who are his friends must do our best for him."
"Surely," Bill said heartily; "and dost really think as he didn't do it?"
" I may say I am quite sure he did not, Bill. Didn't you think so too?"
"No, sir," Bill said; "it never entered my moind as he didn't do it. Oi heard as how t' chap beat Maister Ned cruel, and it seemed to me natural loike as he should sarve him out. Oi didn't suppose as how he meant vor to kill him, but as everyone said as how he did the job it seemed to me loike enough; but of course it didn't make no differ to oi whether so be as he killed un or not. Maister Neds moi friend, and oi stands by him; still oi be main glad to hear as you think he didn't do it; but will the joodge believe it?"
"Ah! that I cannot say," Mr. Porson replied. " I know the lad and believe his word; but at present appearances are sadly against him. That unfortunate affair that he had with my predecessor induced a general idea that he was very violent-tempered. Then it has been notorious that he and his stepfather did not get on well together, and this terrible quarrel on the evening of Mr. Mulready's death seems only too plainly to account for the affair; still, without further evidence, I question if a jury will
find him guilty. It is certain he had no rope when ho went out, and unless the prosecution can prove that he got possession of a rope they cannot bring the guilt home to him."
" No, surely," Bill assented, and sat for some time without further speech; then he went on, " now, sir, what oi be come to thee about be this. Thou bee'st his friend and knaw'st best what 'ould be a good thing for him. Now we ha' been a-talking aboot a plan, Luke Marner and oi, as is Maister's Ned's friends, and we can get plenty of chajDS to join us. We supposes as arter the next toime as they has him up in coort the} T will send him off to York Castle to be tried at the 'sizes."
"Yes; I have no doubt he will be committed after his next appearance, Bill; but what is the plan that you and your friend Luke were thinking of?"
" Well, we was a-thinking vor twenty or so on us to coom down at noight and break open t' cells. There be only t' chief constable and one other, and they wouldn't be no good agin us, and we could get Maister Ned owt and away long afore t' sojers would have toime to wake up and coom round; then we could hide un up on t' moor till there was toime to get un away across the seas. Luke he be pretty well bent on it, but oi says as before we did nothing oi would coom and ax thee, seeing as how thou bee'st a friend of his."
" No, Bill," Mr. Porson said gravely. " It would not do at all, and I am glad you came to ask me. If I thought it certain that the jury would find a verdict of guilty, and
that Ned, innocent as I believe him of the crime, would be hung, I should say that your plan might be worth thinking of; for in that case Ned might possibly be got away till we his friends here could get at the bottom of the matter. Still it would be an acknowledgment for the time of his guilt, and I am sure that Ned himself would not run away without standing his trial even if the doors of his cell were opened. I shall see him to-morrow morning, and will tell him of your scheme on his behalf. I am sure he will be grateful, but I am pretty certain that he will not avail himself of it. If you will come down to-morrow evening I will let you know exactly what he says."
As Mr. Porson expected, Ned, although much moved at the offer of his humble friends to free him by force, altogether declined to accept it.
"It is just like Bill," he said, "ready to get into any scrape himself to help me; but I must stand my trial. I know that even if they cannot prove me guilty I cannot prove I am innocent; still, to run away would be an acknowledgment of guilt, and I am not going to do that."
On the day appointed Ned was again brought up before the magistrates. The examination was this time in public, and the justice-room was crowded. Ned, whose face was now recovering from the marks of ill usage, was pale and quiet. He listened in silence to the evidence proving the finding of Mr. Mulready's body. The next witness put into the box was one of the engineers at the factory; he
proved that the rope which had been used in upsetting the gig had been cut from one which he had a short time before been using for moving a portion of the machinery. He had used the rope about an hour before Mr. Mulready came back in the evening, and it was then whole. After it had been done with it was thrown outside the mill to be out of the way, as it would not be required again.
After he had given his evidence Mr. Wakefield asked:
"Did you hear any one outside the mill when Mr. Mulready was there?"
"No, sir; I heard nothing."
" Anyone might have entered the yard, I suppose, and found the rope?"
"Yes; the gates were open, as we were at work."
" Would the rope be visible to anyone who entered the yard ?"
" It would not be seen plainly, because it was a dark night; but anyone prowling about outside the mill might have stumbled against it."
" You have no reason whatever for supposing that it was Mr. Edward Sankey who cut this rope more than anyone else?"
" No, sir."
Charlie was the next witness. The boy was as white as a sheet, and his eyes were swollen with crying. He glanced piteously at his brother, and exclaimed with a sob, "Oh! Ned."
"Don't mind, Charlie," Ned said quietly. "Tell the
whole story exactly as it happened. You can't do me any harm, old boy."
So encouraged Charlie told the whole story of the quarrel arising in the first place from his stepfather's ill temper at the tea-table.
"Your brother meant nothing specially unpleasant in calling your stepfather Foxey?" Mr. Wakefield asked.
" No, sir; he had always called him so even before he knew that he was going to marry mother. It was a name, I believe, the men called him, and Ned got it from them."
" I believe that your stepfather had received threatening letters, had he not?"
" Yes, sir, several; he was afraid to put his new machines to work because of them."
"Thank you, that will do," Mr. Wakefield said. "I have those letters in my possession," he went on to the magistrates. " They are proof that the deceased had enemies who had threatened to take his life. Shall I produce them now?"
" It is hardly worth while, Mr. Wakefield, though they can be brought forward at the trial. I may say, indeed, that we have seen some of them already, for it was on account of these letters that we applied for the military to be stationed here."
It was not though
t necessary to call Mrs. Mulready; but the servant gave her evidence as to what she had heard of the quarrel, and as to the absence of Ned from home that night.
" Unless you are in a position to produce evidence, Mr. Wakefield, proving clearly that at the time the murder was committed the prisoner was at a distance from the spot, we are prepared to commit him for trial."
Mr. Wakefield intimated that he should reserve his evidence for the trial itself, and Ned was then formally committed.
The examination in no way altered the tone of public opinion. The general opinion was that Ned had followed his stepfather to the mill, intending to attack him, that he had stumbled onto the coil of rope, and the idea occurred to him of tying it across the road and upsetting the gig on its return. Charlie's evidence as to the savage assault upon his brother had created a stronger feeling of sympathy than had before prevailed, and had the line of defence been, that, smarting under his injuries, Ned had suddenly determined to injure his stepfather by upsetting the gig, but without any idea of killing him, the general opinion would have been that under such provocation as Ned had received a lengthened term of imprisonment would have been an ample punishment. More than one, indeed, were heard to say, "Well, if I were on the jury, my verdict would be, Served him right." Still, although there was greater sympathy than before with Ned, there were few, indeed, who doubted his guilt.
After Ned was removed from court he was taken back by the chief constable to his house, and ten minutes later he was summoned into the parlour, where he found Charlie and Lucy waiting him. Lucy, who was now
ten years old, sprang forward to meet him; he lifted her, and for a while she lay with her head on his shoulder and her arms round his neck, sobbing bitterly, while Charlie cluno- to his brother's disengaged hand.
"Don't cry, Lucy, don't cry, little woman; it will all come right in the end;" but Lucy's tears were not to be staunched. Ned sat down, and after a time soothed her into stillness, but she still lay nestled up in his arms.
"It was dreadful, Ned," Charlie said, "having to go into court as a witness against you. I had thought of running away, but did not know where to go to, and then Mr. Porson had a talk with me and told me that it was of the greatest importance that I should tell everything exactly word for word, just as it happened. He said every one knew there had been a quarrel, and that if I did not tell everything it would seem as if I was keeping something back in order to screen you, and that would do you a great deal of harm, and that, as really you were not to blame in the quarrel, my evidence would be in your favour rather than against you. He says he knew that you would wish me to tell exactly what took place."
" Certainly, Charlie; there is nothing I could want hid. I was wrong to speak of him as Foxey, and to let fly as I did about him; but there was nothing intended to offend him in that, because, of course, I had no idea that he could hear me. The only thing I have to blame myself very much for is for getting into a wild passion. I don't think any one would say I did wrong in going out of the house after being knocked about so; but if I had not got into a
passion, and had gone straight to Bill's, or to Abijah, or to Mr. Porson, which would have been best of all, to have stopped the night, all this would not have come upon me; but I let myself get into a blind passion and stopped in it for hours, and I am being punished for it."
" It was natural that you should get in a passion," Charlie said stoutly. " I think any one would have got in a passion."
" I don't think you would, Charlie," Ned said, smiling.
"No," Charlie replied; "but then you see that is not my way. I should have cried all night; but then I am not a great, strong fellow like you, and it would not be so hard to be knocked about."
" It's no use making excuses, Charlie. I know I ought not to have given way to my temper like that. Now, Lucy dear, as you are feeling better, you must sit up and talk to me. How is mother?"
" Mother is in bed," Lucy said. " She's always in bed now; the house is dreadful, Ned, without you, and they say you are not to come back yet," and the tears came very near to overflowing again.
" Ah! well, I hope I shall be back before long, Lucy."
" I hope so," Lucy said; " but you know you will soon be going away again to be a soldier."
"I shall not go away again now, Lucy," Ned said quietly. " When I come back it will be for good."
"Oh! that will be nice," Lucy said joyously, "just as it used to be, with no one to be cross and scold about everything."
" Hush! little woman, don't talk about that. He had his faults, dear, as we all have, but he had a great deal to worry him, and perhaps we did not make allowances enough for him, and I do think he was really fond of you, Lucy, and when people are dead we should never speak ill of them."
" I don't want to," Lucy said, " and I didn't want him to be fond of me when he wasn't fond of you and Charlie or mother. It seems to me he wasn't fond of mother, and yet she does nothing but cry; I can't make that out, can you?"
Ned did not answer; his mother's infatuation for Mr. Mulready had always been a puzzle to him, and he could at present think of no reply which would be satisfactory to Lucy.
A constable now came in and said that there were other visitors waiting to see Ned. He then withdrew, leaving the lad to say good-bye to his brother and sister alone. Ned kept up a brave countenance, and strove to make the parting as easy as possible for the others, but both were crying bitterly as they went out.
Ned's next visitors were Dr. Green and Mr. Porson.
"We have only a minute or two, my boy," Mr. Porson said, " for the gig is at the door. The chief constable is going to drive you to York himself. You will go halfway and sleep on the road to-night. It is very good of him, as in that way no one will suspect that you are any but a pair of ordinary travellers. Keep up your spirits, my boy. We have sent to London for a detective from
Bow Street to try and ferret out something of this mysterious business; and even if we do not succeed, I have every faith that it will come right in the end. And now good-bye, my boy, I shall see you in a fortnight, for of course I shall come over to York to the trial to give evidence as to character."
" And so shall I, Ned, my patients must get on without me for a day or two," the doctor said. " Mr. Wakefield is waiting to see you. He has something to tell you which may help to cheer you. He says it is of no legal value, but it seems to me important."
CHAPTER XV.
NOT GUILTY.
S soon as Mr. Porson and the doctor had left him, Mr. Wakefield appeared.
" Well, Sankey, I hope you are not downcast at the magistrates' decision. It was a certainty that they would have to commit you, as we could not prove a satisfactory alibi. Never mind, I don't think any jury will find against you on the evidence they have got, especially in the face of those threatening-letters and the fact that several men in Mulready's position have been murdered by the Luddites."
" It won't be much consolation to me, sir, to be acquitted if it can't be proved to the satisfaction of everyone that I am innocent."
"Tut, tut! my boy; the first thing to do is to get you out of the hands of the law. After that we shall have time to look about us and see if we can lay our hands on the right man. A curious thing has happened to-day while I was in court. A little boy left a letter for me at my office here; it is an ill-written scrawl, as you see, but certainly important."
Ned took the paper, on which was written in a scrawling hand:
" Sir, Maister Sankey be innocent of the murder of Foxey. I doan't want to put my neck in a noose, but if so be as they finds him guilty in coort and be a-going to hang him, I shall come forward and say as how I did it. I bean't agoing to let him be hung for this job. A loife for a loife, saes oi; so tell him to keep up his heart."
There was no signature to the paper.
Ned looked up with delight in his face.
"But won't the letter clear me, Mr. Wakefield? It shows that it was not me, but someone else who did it."
" No,
Sankey, pray do not cherish any false hopes on that ground. The letter is valueless in a legal way. To you and to your friends it may be a satisfaction; but it can have no effect on the court. There is nothing to prove that it is genuine. It may have been written by any friend of yours with a view of obtaining your acquittal. Of course we shall put it in at the trial, but it cannot be accepted as legal evidence in any way. Still a thing of that sort may have an effect upon some of the jury."
Ned looked again at the letter, and a shade came over his face now that he looked at it carefully. He recognized in a moment Bill's handwriting. He had himself instructed him by setting him copies at the time he was laid up with the broken leg, and Bill had stuck to it so far that he was able to read and write in a rough way.
Ned's first impulse was to tell Mr. Wakefield who had written the note, but he thought that it might get Bill into a scrape. It was evidently written by his friend, solely to create an impression in his favour, and he wondered that such an idea should have entered Bill's head, which was by no means an imaginative one. As to the young fellow having killed Mr. Mulready it did not even occur to Ned for a moment.
As, seated by the side of the chief constable, he drove along that afternoon, Ned turned it over anxiously in his mind whether it would be honest to allow this letter to be produced in court, knowing that it was only the device of a friend. Finally he decided to let matters take their course.
" I am innocent," he said to himself, " and what I have got to live for is to clear myself from this charge. Mr. Wakefield said this letter would not be of value one way or the other, and if I were to say Bill wrote it he might insist upon Bill's being arrested, and he might find it just as hard to prove his innocence as I do."