Chapter 29

THE END OF THE TURNPIKE HOUSE.

Perhaps had Heron attacked Jerry less suddenly, and had he not shewn by a few chosen remarks that he knew a good deal, the half-witted creature might not have confessed. But his weak nature gave way altogether. And during the next half-hour Geoffrey turned him inside out like a glove. The story which Heron extracted from the whimpering creature was this Roper had always suspected, and rightly, that Jenner had hidden the forged bill before he went to prison. When the man came out, he got to know the date of his discharge, and set Jerry to follow him in order that he might see where he went to get the document. Jerry was on the track for many days, and saw that he procured it from an old friend, who, ignorant of its value, had taken charge of it. The document was in a sealed envelope, and Jerry had seen Jenner place it in a red pocket-book. All this he reported to Roper, and he was then ordered to follow Jenner, and get it from him at all costs.

Jerry got again on the track of the released prisoner, and followed him down to Westham. In one way or another the spy kept himself out of sight, for Jenner, having been Roper's clerk, knew the lad--as he then was. The rest may be told in Jerry's own words, which were many and rambling:

"He got down here on a misty, rainy night, sir," he said, fiddling with his clumsy fingers, "and I kept at his heels. At a wayside pub he took victuals and drink; I watched the door from the other side of the road, and ate what I had with me. I daren't go inside lest he should see me."

"Didn't you lose him in the mist?" asked Geoffrey, who was listening eagerly.

"I never lose anything, sir," returned Jerry. "I can see anywhere, and foller like a dog. You don't slip me! I've had enough follering to do for the master. Well, Jenner he goes to a large pool of water."

"The Waggoner's Pond. Go on."

"Oh, that's it, is it? I never know'd. Well, there he meets with Mr. Marshall. Oh, I know'd his voice. I was hiding near them behind a hedge, I was; and a ghost came past me, sir--a ghost with a long black dress."

Heron saw that the man was ignorant that Mrs. Marshall also had been listening; and this was all the better. It was as well that Jerry had taken her for a ghost.

"I hate him so, you see," explained Jerry. "He killed Miss Elsa, and I was cruel fond of her, I was. Well, them two was talking about the bill, and Jenner he shewed it to Marshall, but he wouldn't give it up till he got money for it. Marshall said he'd give him money when he was married and after that they parted. I tried to foller Jenner, but I thought the other--Marshall--'ud spot me. I didn't mind, though, as I know'd Jenner was going to the Turnpike House to see his wife."

"But you were a stranger! How did you know where that was?"

"I had passed it in the afternoon, and from what Marshall said to Jenner, I know'd it was the Turnpike House. Well, sir, I scrambled a lot, and got mixed---- I don't know where I got. Then I heard a scuffle and a cry, and saw in the mist two men fighting."

"Marshall and Job," thought Heron; then aloud, "Go on!"

"I thought as someone else might be after the red book, so I was going to run forward when one cove he slipped away, and after groaning awful the other he went too. He was shaken a lot by the fight. I stayed where I was for a time, then I creeps forward and lights a match."

"What did you do that for?"

"I wanted to see if in the fight the red book had been dropped. How was I to know that one of them wasn't Jenner in spite of his going on to the Turnpike! When I casts a light," he resumed. "I saw something glittering on the ground. It was a broken link, and I examined it by another match. There was two links. One piece was a champagne bottle, just as you said, sir, and the other was my pin with the girl; I thought they were pretty and saw they were gold, so I puts them into my coat pocket."

"How did you lose them, then?" Geoffrey asked, thinking this explanation perfectly feasible.

"I only lost one--the champagne bottle," said Jerry quite gravely, "'cause there was a hole in my pocket I know'd nothing of. The other I took home and got made into a pin. I never know'd till you spoke where I lost the one! Was it under the Turnpike window?" he inquired.

"It was found there," assented Heron.

Jerry scratched his head. "I must have shook it out when I was looking in at the window," he muttered.

"Oh, you did look in at the window, then?"

"Of course I did, sir. Wasn't I follering Jenner? After I picked up the links I went straight to the Turnpike but didn't get there for a long time through having mistook the way. I see a light in the window, and I sneaks up to it through the bushes. The window was open and Jenner he was leaning against it. On a table, under the window, I saw a knife, and the red pocket-book with the bill. Jenner was talking to himself and cursing some child----"

"Poor Neil," muttered Heron.

"I waited a bit to steal the book, when I heard Jenner give a yell, and saw a kid come into the room looking frightful; he ran at Jenner who gave a skip and dodged him. The child's eyes was like diamonds, and fixed; I never seed anything like the looks of him in my born days. Jenner he screeched again and pitched himself at the child to fall on top of him--leastways it looked like it. But I didn't wait; I saw my chance, and grabbing the pocket-book I ran like a deer, I did. Just as I got a little way off a cove jumped out on me and collared my throat singing out for the red book. I wouldn't give it up, and shoved it deeper into my pocket; but he held me down with one hand and dug it out with the other. My heart!" sighed Jerry rubbing his hand, "didn't the master give me beans for not having that pocket-book!"

"Didn't you know who robbed you?"

"No; I wished I had known. I'd have got the book next week when the talk of the murder was past. But the master got a scare from that, though I told him, as I tell you, that it wasn't me. He said 'Lie low,' so I did lie low, and after a time he gave up the idea of getting the bill, till you came the other day, and he thought you might have it. So I've come to buy it if you will sell."

"We'll talk about that later, Jerry. Are you sure Jenner was alive when you left the window?"

"I swear it! He was just making for the kid."

"Had he the knife in his hand?"

"Not as I knows, sir. I think it was on the table. Jenner just ran at the kid with his mouth open; he was in a cruel fright. But I cut and didn't wait to see anything."

"Then, do you think the child killed Jenner?"

"Lor' no, sir!" cried Jerry, amazed. "A weak little thing like that! 'Sides, the kid hadn't the knife. 'Twas on the table, I'm sure."

"Can you guess, then, who killed him?"

"No, sir, I can't. All I know is that I didn't. But now you know, just say if I'm to have the bill!"

"I'll tell you to-morrow morning."

"I must know to-night; the master wants me back to-night."

"He can't have you, then," said Heron, drily. "You stay here to-night, I want you to repeat your story to someone else."

"I won't then! I was a fool to tell; but I don't know nothing."

"You must stay here."

"I never killed him!" wept Jerry; then he turned sullen and made a grab at his hat. "I'll go," he said, and made for the door.

"Stephen," called Geoffrey; and Jerry found himself face to face with a big footman who seized him with iron hands.

"Here! here!" he shouted, struggling and roaring. "Let me go; I never did nothing to Jenner. Let me go!"

"Lock him up in some empty room, Stephen," cried Mr. Heron, "and give him food and wine; he must be kept here all night. I will take the responsibility. Confound this foot! If I were only able to walk! Oh, I'll keep you, Mr. Hutt; we haven't done with each other yet."

Jerry's cunning came suddenly to his aid, and he ceased struggling. "If you give me grub and wine I'll stop," he said. "I ain't done nothing to Jenner; and I ain't afraid."

"Take him away, Stephen, and do what I tell you," said Geoffrey, sharply; and Jerry Hutt soon found himself locked in an out-shed with a tray of food and a bottle of beer for his supper.

At intervals Stephen, the footman, came in to see that he was safe; the creature noticed this, and made his plans accordingly. Immediately after Stephen had departed after one of these peeps, he scrambled up the rough woodwork and managed to get to the window, which was closed merely by a hasp, no one having the least idea that the man would attempt to escape. Jerry broke open the catch, and soon forced his ungainly body through the opening. Not paying sufficient attention to his footing, he fell, and alighted on a manure heap some distance below. "Spoiling my nice new suit," he grumbled, as he groped round to get out of the yard in which he now found himself.

There was some little difficulty about this; but he at last discovered a gate, which led into a by-lane, and was soon out of Mr. Heron's grounds, running across country for all he was worth, chuckling at the way in which he had outwitted his host.

For quite two hours he wandered on; for he had completely lost his bearings. The night was fine with a high wind; the moon was at the zenith, and across her silver face passed cloud after cloud. At intervals the whole landscape became light as day, and he could see plainly. But he was a comparative stranger, though he had several times been down looking for the bill by his master's order.

Suddenly he emerged on to a common overgrown with gorse, and found himself on a spot where four roads met. Some distance away a white house looked spectral in the moonlight.

"The Turnpike," he said aloud. "My gum! And there's the window I looked through; the light's in it now, too--just as it was when Jenner was killed. I wonder who's in there!"

His curiosity got the better of his fear of Mr. Heron, and with a surprisingly light step--for the man was heavy--he crept through the jungle of bushes and sneaked along the wall of the house. "Just like old times," he said, chuckling. "I hope there ain't no more murders though."

Someone was singing a wild song in a drunken voice; and when the clerk peered through the window--for there was no blind--he saw a man dancing in the middle of the room. A cheap oil lamp was on the table, and by its light the dancer executed his fandango, waving a bottle as he did so. The apartment was bare, and a horrible smell of petroleum was wafted to Jerry's nostrils. In his curiosity he forgot to keep himself concealed, and Job--for he was the dancer--saw him. He flung himself across the room, and before Jerry had realised his danger the gypsy had seized him; by the collar of his coat and was dragging him through the window. "Come in, come in, Satan!" yelled the drunken man. "We'll have another murder! Ho!

"Let me go--let me go!" screeched Jerry; but he was like a rabbit caught in a snare, and shortly found himself in a heap on a petroleum-soaked floor, while Job closed the window, Hutt was terrified; but he could see no means of escape.

"Have a drink," shouted Job, thrusting the bottle under Mr. Hutt's nose.

"You let me go," he whispered, clinging to a chair. "If you don't, my master will set the police on to you see if he don't."

"The police!" cried Job. "What do I care for them! They can't do anything to me; she'll keep them off--she will. I can shew up her husband it she don't. Drink, drink, or I'll kick you!"

Partly to avert the carrying-out of this threat, and partly because he was extremely dry with his race across country, Jerry accepted the offer, and as the ardent spirits went down his throat, he felt his courage revive.

"I'm Jerry Hutt," he exclaimed, "and I work for Mr. Roper. I want the bill--the bill!" He made a grab at the gypsy. "It will lay him by the heels," he hissed.

"Lay who by the heels, hang you?" cried Job, pushing him back.

"Why, Marshall--I won't call him 'Mister' Marshall--who killed my poor dear Miss Elsa."

Job, half stupid with drink, had yet the sense to gather the meaning of the words. "Blest if I won't know of the red pocket-book, too," he muttered.

And even as he spoke, Jerry caught the words, and repeated them. "The red pocket-book," he shouted. "Do you know where it is? The bill is in it, and I'll buy it off you; oh, yes, I will. Fifty pounds."

Job banged his fist so heavily on the table that the lamp tottered. "I wish I had it now!" he cried. "Fifty pounds-by gum!"

"Have you the bill there?" asked Jerry, taking another drink.

"No; I haven't anything," said Job. "She got it out of me."

"Got what out of you?"

"Why, the red pocket-book--but the bill wasn't in it," he added.

For a moment Jerry stared at the man, then dropped the bottle with a crash on the floor; it broke, and the liquor forming a pool, added its fumes to the smell of the petroleum. "You had that red book!" stuttered Jerry, trying hard to clear his brain. "And it was taken from me! You live here--you were--you, oh, oh!" He sprang from his seat with a roar. "You took it from me!"

"Well," said Job, with a growl, "was you the cove as I fought on that night, and knocked about so?"

"You robber--you thief!" cried Jerry, crouching for a spring. "Give me back my property--the book, the bill!" and he flung himself on the gypsy, who gave a cry of rage.

"I'll crush you like a fly, as I did before!" Job said, and grappled with his visitor.

But Job was not the man he had been twelve years before; he could not hold his own as he had once done. Shouting and cursing, the two men swayed round the apartment. Finally, they crashed against the table, and upset the lamp it fell and burst on the floor. Immediately the woodwork, soaked as it was in petroleum, broke into flame, and in almost less time than it takes to tell, the whole room was in a blaze.

With a yell of terror, Jerry tried to shake himself free, and leap through the girdle of fire but Job held him fast.

"No, you don't!" he shouted. "You die with me, whoever you are! I've made arrangements for this; I never intended to live: but I thought I'd die alone. Now I've got you!" and he made a clutch at Jerry's throat.

After that the struggle proceeded in silence, for Job held his peace, and Jerry could not cry out by reason of those two strong hands fast on his throat. By this time the room was blazing like a furnace, and the clothes of the two men were in flames. A frightened wayfarer saw the fire streaming towards the sky--saw two men vaguely struggling in the flames.