Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/82

 74 of any kind than she. It appears most strange to me with whom she could have been quarrelling—if indeed it was Rachel that was quarrelling.”

“It is all strange together,” cried Lionel Verner. “What took Rachel that way at all, by night-time?”

“What indeed!” echoed Mr. Bitterworth. “Unless—”

“Unless what?” asked Mr. Verner; for Mr. Bitterworth had brought his words to a sudden standstill.

“Well, I was going to say, unless she had an appointment there. But that does not appear probable for Rachel Frost.”

“It is barely possible, let alone probable,” was the retort of Mr. Verner.

“But still, in a case like this, every circumstance must be looked at, every trifle weighed,” resumed Mr. Bitterworth. “Does Rachel’s own conduct appear to you to have been perfectly open? She has been indulging, it would seem, in some secret grief latterly; has been ‘strange,’ as one or two have expressed it. Then, again, she stated to her father that she was going to stay at Duff’s for a gossip, whereas the woman says she had evidently no intention of gossiping, and barely gave herself time to order the articles spoken of. Other witnesses observed her leave Duff’s, and walk with a hasty step direct to the field road, and turn down it. All this does not sound quite clear to me.”

“There was one thing sounded not clear to me,” broke in Lionel, abruptly, “and that was Dinah Roy’s evidence. The woman’s half a fool; otherwise I should think she was purposely deceiving us.”

“A pity but she could see a real ghost!” cried John Massingbird, looking half inclined to laugh, “it might cure her for fancy ones. She’s right in one thing, however: that poor Luke might have got this clapped on to his shoulders, had he been here.”

“Scarcely,” dissented Dr. West. “Luke Roy is too inoffensive to harm any one, least of all a woman, and Rachel; and that the whole parish knows.”

“There’s no need to discuss Luke’s name in the business,” said Mr. Verner, “he is far enough away. Whoever the man may have been, it was not Luke,” he emphatically added. “Luke would have been the one to succour Rachel, not to hurt her.”

Not a soul present but felt that Mr. Verner spoke in strict accordance with the facts, known and presumptive. They must look in another quarter than Luke for Rachel’s assailant.

Mr. Verner glanced at Mr. Bitterworth and Dr. West, then at the three young men before him.

“We are amongst friends,” he observed, addressing the latter. “I would ask you, individually, whether it was one of you that the boy Duff spoke of as being in the lane?”

They positively disclaimed it, each one for himself. Each one mentioned that he had been elsewhere at the time; and where he had been.

“You see,” said Mr. Verner, “the lane leads only to Verner’s Pride.”

“But, by leaping a fence anywhere, or a gate, or breaking through a hedge, it may lead all over the country,” observed Frederick Massingbird. “You forget that, sir.”

“No, Frederick, I do not forget it. But unless a man had business at Verner’s Pride, what should he go into the lane for? On emerging from the field, on this side the Willow-pool, any one, not bound for Verner’s Pride, would take the common path to the right hand, open to all; only in case of wanting to come here would he take the lane. You cannot suppose for a moment that I suspect any one of you has had a hand in this unhappy event; but it was right that I should be assured, from your own lips, that you were not the person spoken of by young Duff.”

“It may have been a stranger to the neighbourhood, sir. In that case he would not know that the lane led only to Verner’s Pride.”

“True—so far. But what stranger would be likely to quarrel with Rachel?”

“Egad, if you come to that, sir, a stranger’s more likely to pick a quarrel with her than one of us,” rejoined John Massingbird.

“It was no stranger,” said Mr. Verner, shaking his head. “We do not quarrel with strangers. Had any stranger accosted Rachel at night, in that lonely spot, with rude words, she would naturally have called out for help: which it is certain she did not do, or young Broom and Mrs. Roy must have heard her. Rely upon it, that man in the lane is the one we must look for.”

“But—where to look?” debated Frederick Massingbird.

“There it is! The inference would be that he was coming to Verner’s Pride; being on its direct way and nearly close upon it. But, the only tall men (as the boy describes) at Verner’s Pride, are you three and Bennet. Bennet was at home, therefore he is exempt; and you were scattered in different directions—Lionel at Mr. Bitterworth’s, John at the Royal Oak—I wonder you like to make yourself familiar with those tap-rooms, John!—and Frederick coming in from Poynton’s to his dinner.”

“I don’t think I had been in ten minutes when the alarm came,” remarked Frederick.

“Well, it is involved in mystery at present,” cried Mr. Bitterworth, shaking hands with them. “Let us hope that to-morrow will open more light upon it? Are you on the wing, too, doctor? Then we’ll go out together.”

say that Deerham was rudely disturbed from its equanimity; that petty animosities, whether concerning Mr. Roy and the Dawsons or other contending spirits, were lost sight of, hushed to rest in the absorbing calamity which had overtaken Rachel; to say that occupations were partially suspended, that there ensued a glorious interim of idleness, for the female portion of it,—of conferences in gutters and collectings in houses; to say that Rachel was sincerely mourned, old Frost sympathised with, and the supposed