Through Russian Snows (7 page)

"It was lucky you sent for Probert, Julian; I had never thought of it."

"No more did I, Frank. I was perfectly astonished when he got up and
said that he appeared for me, but I supposed that Aunt or you had sent
for him."

"I am sure Aunt didn't, or she would have told me."

"I should not be surprised, Frank, if it were Captain Downes. In the
first place, he was a friend of Father's, and in the next place, because
he is heartily sick of Faulkner's constant interference and the way he
goes on. I expect that if Mr. Moorsby had got up he would have said just
the same things."

"I will leave you here for a few minutes, Julian. I must run round and
tell Aunt; she is in a fearful stew about you."

Frank ran out at the main entrance. A number of fishermen were hanging
about outside. Bill came up to him:

"Isn't Mr. Julian coming out, Master Frank?"

"Not at present. The magistrates don't want any fuss in the streets, no
more does my brother, and he will stay there till every one has cleared
off, so the best thing you can do, Bill, is to persuade the others to go
off home. Julian knows well enough that you are all pleased that he has
got off, but you see if there were a fuss got up about it in the streets
it would do him harm and not good."

"All right, sir, I will get them off. They just wanted to give him a
cheer."

"Well, they did that in Court, Bill, and you know that he appreciates
their good intentions. Well, I must be off."

Mrs. Troutbeck was still on the watch. However, she did not come to the
door. Frank opened it, and ran into the parlour. His Aunt had dropped
into a chair, with her handkerchief to her eyes.

"So he has not come back with you, Frank. It is dreadful. What are they
going to do with him?"

"They are not going to do anything, Aunt. He has been acquitted. Only
he did not come home with me because there are a lot of sailors waiting
outside to cheer him, and the magistrates did not want a row over him,
nor did Julian either. I have just run home to tell you that it is all
right, and now I am going back for him. I expect by the time I get there
they will all have gone, and we may be home in a quarter of an hour, so
I think, Aunt, the best thing you can do is to get tea ready, for I
don't expect he has had much to eat there, or any appetite to eat it."

It was good advice, for Mrs. Troutbeck was on the point of going into
hysterics from joy and relief. However, the thought of the necessity for
getting a good meal to welcome Julian on his arrival turned her thoughts
into another channel, and, wiping her eyes hastily, she rose and gave
directions, while Frank started again for the court-house. The fishermen
had left, but there were still a number of boys about the place. The
private entrance was, however, free from observers, and the brothers
started at once, keeping to the back streets until they neared the
house.

"My dear Julian," Mrs. Troutbeck exclaimed as she threw her arms round
his neck, "what a relief it is to have you back again. It has been
terrible for you."

"It hasn't been very pleasant, Aunt," he replied cheerfully, "but it is
all right now, and certainly I ought not to grumble. I have had better
luck than I deserved. I was a fool to go there, but I did not think that
there was any real chance of the revenue people coming down upon us. It
was thought they had been thrown off the scent altogether."

"What a dreadful face you have got, Julian!"

"Oh, that is nothing, Aunt; it will go off in a few days, and until it
has I must either stay indoors or keep out of the town altogether."

"I am afraid tea won't be ready for a few minutes, Julian. You see I
have had such a very short notice."

"I can hold on comfortably, Aunt; besides, I have got to have a change
and a wash. That is of more importance than tea just at present."

After the meal was over, Frank gave the details of the examination, the
narrative being very frequently stopped by exclamations and questions on
the part of Mrs. Troutbeck.

"I have never heard of such a wicked thing. The idea of that man
charging you with attempting to murder him! Julian, he ought to be
punished for it."

"I fancy he has been punished, Aunt. I don't see how he is to keep his
commission as a justice after what was said in court. Still, it is a bad
thing for me. I was discharged, but it will always be against me. If I
ever get into any sort of trouble again, people will say: 'Ah, yes; he
was charged with attempting murder when he was a young fellow, and
although he was lucky enough to get off then, there must have been
something in it. He is evidently a man of ungovernable temper.'"

"But, my dear Julian, everyone knows that you have a very sweet temper."

"I was not in a sweet temper then at any rate, Aunt."

"Of course not, Julian. I should not have been so myself if anyone had
hit me such a terrible blow as that in the face."

Her nephews both laughed, for they had never seen her ruffled out of her
usual serenity.

"Well, Aunt, don't let us talk any more about it," Julian said. "I would
give a good deal if it hadn't happened. As it is, one must make the best
of it, and I hope that it will be forgotten in time. I wish now that I
had gone into the army, but it is too late for that. I shall think over
what I had best take to. I should certainly like to get away from here
until it has blown over altogether."

On the following morning Frank met Captain Downes, and learned that he
was right in his conjecture, and that it was he who had retained Mr.
Probert's services in Julian's behalf before the magistrates.

For the next few days Julian kept in the house, except that after
nightfall he went out for a long walk. The report of the proceedings in
the court had caused a great sensation in Weymouth, and the feeling was
so strong against Mr. Faulkner that he was hooted in the streets when he
rode into the town. The general expectation was that he would resign his
position on the bench; and when at the end of a week he did not do so, a
private meeting of the other magistrates was held, and it was whispered
in the town that a report of the proceedings at the court had been sent
to the Home Secretary, with an expression of opinion that Mr. Faulkner's
brother magistrates felt that they could not sit again with him on the
bench after what had taken place.

Ten days after the affair Julian started early one morning for a day's
rabbit-shooting at the house of a friend who lived some six miles up the
valley. Some snow fell in the course of the afternoon and put a stop to
shooting, and he started to walk home. When he was within a few hundred
yards of Mr. Faulkner's place he heard a horse coming along behind him.
The snow that had fallen had deadened the sound of the hoofs on the
road, and, looking round, he saw Mr. Faulkner riding fast, at a distance
of but fifty yards away. Had he caught sight of him sooner Julian would
have left the road and entered the wood to avoid him, but it was too
late now, and he hoped that at any rate the man would pass on without
speaking. The horseman had apparently not recognized Julian until he
came abreast of him, when, with a sudden exclamation, he reined in his
horse.

"MARK MY WORDS, YOU YOUNG SCOUNDREL, I WILL BE EVEN WITH
YOU YET."

"So it is you, Julian Wyatt?" he said, in a tone of suppressed fury.

"It is I, Mr. Faulkner," Julian replied quietly; "and as I don't want
to have anything to say to you, I think that you had better go on your
way without interfering with me."

"Mark my words, you young scoundrel, I will be even with you yet."

"The debt is not all on your side, Mr. Faulkner. I, too, have got a debt
to pay; and perhaps some day we may square matters up, when you have not
got a score of coast-guardsmen at your back. However, I am content to
leave matters as they are so long as you do the same. As to your owing a
debt to me, it is yourself you have to thank for the trouble you have
got into; it was no doing of mine. However, I warn you that you had
better abstain from insulting me again. I did not strike you back when
you hit me last time, but if you call me scoundrel again you shall see
that I can hit as hard as you can, and I will teach you to keep a civil
tongue in your head."

"You mark my words," Mr. Faulkner repeated. "I will have you watched,
and I will hunt you down, and if I am not mistaken I will put a rope
round your neck one of these days." So saying, he struck spurs into his
horse and galloped on.

Julian stood looking after him until he saw him turn in at his gate. The
drive to the house led, as he knew, diagonally through the wood, and as
he walked forward he heard the horse's galloping hoofs grow louder and
louder. Suddenly there was the report of a gun some seventy or eighty
yards away. It was mingled with that of a sudden cry, and Julian heard
the horse galloping on even faster than before. With an exclamation of
"Good heavens! something has happened!" he broke through the hedge and
ran in the direction of the sound. As he approached it he thought that
he caught sight of a man running through the trees, but he kept straight
on until he came upon the drive. Twenty yards away Mr. Faulkner lay
stretched on the ground. He went up to him, and stooped over him. His
eyes were closed, and as he lay on his back Julian saw blood oozing
through a bullet-hole in his coat high up on the left side of the chest.

Feeling sure that Mr. Faulkner was dead he started up, and without a
moment's hesitation ran into the wood again, in the direction where he
had thought that he had seen a figure. A minute later he came upon some
footprints on a bare spot between the trees, where the snow had fallen
lightly. Noting the direction they took, he followed at once. He saw no
more signs of footprints, but followed the direction as nearly as he
could until he came to the farthest side of the wood; then he leaped out
into the field beyond, and followed the edge of the wood until he again
reached the road. He then turned and went back again, and fifty yards
from the point where he had first run out he came upon the footprints
again.

"He was going to take to the hills, he muttered," as he set off along
the track. He ran at a trot, and as he went, loaded both barrels of his
gun. "Very likely the villain will show fight," he said to himself; "I
must take him by surprise if I can."

After a quarter of a mile's run he reached the foot of the hill, and
near its crest, three-quarters of a mile away, caught sight of the
figure of a man. A moment later he had passed over the crest. Julian
started at full speed up the hill. There was no need to follow the
footprints now; indeed the strong wind that was blowing had swept the
snow into the hollows, and the face of the hill was bare. When he
reached the top of the hill he had decreased his distance considerably.
He saw to his surprise that the man was bearing to the right, a course
that would ere long bring him to the edge of the cliff. The run up the
hill had left him breathless, and for some time the man, who was also
running, fully maintained his lead. Then Julian began to gain upon him.
The man had again changed his course, and was now going parallel with
the line of cliffs. Three miles from the point where he had reached the
top Julian was within a quarter of a mile of him. He would have caught
him before this, had he not been obliged at times to make detours so as
to avoid passing high ground, where the man, if he looked back, would
have perceived him. By this time he was almost sure that the fugitive
was a poacher, who had been recently released from a term of two years
in prison for poaching in Mr. Faulkner's preserves. At last he saw him
turn sharp to the right again. "Where on earth is he going?" Julian said
to himself. "The cliffs are not many hundred yards away."

Hitherto he had supposed that the man was keeping away from the cliff to
avoid meeting any of the coast-guards who would be on duty there, but
this change of direction puzzled him completely. Keeping his eye on the
poacher, he saw him enter a small clump of bushes, from which he did not
emerge. Julian at once slackened his pace down to a walk. It was likely
enough that the man had noticed that he was being pursued, and had
determined to rid himself of the pursuer. It was not a pleasant idea,
that the fellow might now be kneeling among the bushes with his gun at
his shoulder.

"It could hardly be that either," he said to himself, "for if he
intended to shoot me he would have turned the other way; for the sound
of his gun would be probably heard by some of the coast-guard, and they
could not fail to see him running away. At any rate," he muttered, "I am
not going to turn back after such a chase as I have had."

Standing still and looking at the spot, he saw that the clump of bushes
grew in a slight hollow, and that by turning to the right he would be
able to approach within twenty or thirty yards of it without exposing
himself to view. This he did, and in a short time lost sight of the
bushes. Moving with great caution, he made his way towards them, and
when he approached the slope into the hollow, lay down and crawled
along, keeping his gun in front of him. As he neared the spot he lay
down on his stomach in the short turf and wound himself along until he
could see down into the bushes. With his gun at his shoulder, and his
finger on the trigger, he gazed down into the hollow. To his surprise he
could see no signs of the fugitive. The leafless boughs afforded but
slight shelter, and after gazing fixedly at them for two or three
minutes, he became convinced that the man was no longer there. As soon
as he came to this conclusion he stood up and looked over the
surrounding country. It was bleak and bare, and entirely destitute of
hedges or any other shelter.