CHAPTER XIII THE WOOING OF ROBIN JOYCE

Bewildered as Herrick was by the strangeness of this discovery, he had nerve enough to pull himself together and go for assistance. In spite of the lateness of the hour, the Carr Arms was full of labourers drinking and smoking. A number of these came at once to the churchyard when they heard of the accident--for so Herrick put it---and Stephen was carried to his house. Herrick had ascertained before seeking assistance that his friend still lived. Meanwhile Sidney had revived, but was in a drowsy state. "I want to go home," he said. Herrick after whispering him to say nothing of the vision seen in the ink-pot, sent him to Biffstead in charge of the landlord Napper. Then he accompanied the body of his friend to "The Pines." Herrick could not help thinking of it as the body though he knew Stephen still lived. But it was quite probable that he would be an actual corpse before the dawn.

"Mr. Marsh-Carr has met with an accident," was the explanation of the doctor to his helpers, and they went away. But they knew very well that it was no accident, and moreover the presence of Sidney besides the body hinted that another wonderful event had taken place.

"Master Sidney said that his mother was dead," remarked the wiseacres, "and he has found the dead body of Mr. Marsh himself now!"

"He is not dead," said others.

"Ah! But he will die. Master Sidney, never makes a mistake." And by the next morning a legend had been circulated that the uncanny boy, had foretold the death of the new Squire. When those who called at 'The Pines' heard that Marsh-Carr had lived through the night, they were quite disappointed. It seemed a reflection on Master Sidney. Yet the boy had held his tongue and no one knew really what had happened. In default of the truth then, they took refuge in a fable. There was absolutely no authority for what was said, but Sidney had been found unconscious beside the unconscious Squire. That was enough material out of which to form a wonderful story, and it lost nothing in the telling.

Meanwhile, Herrick fulfilled his duties of medical attendant to his friend, smiling grimly the while, that the need should come so comparatively early in their acquaintance. He had known Marsh-Carr but a little over five months. The meeting had taken place in July and it was now near Christmas. The doctor examined the wound on the back of the head. It was a nasty jagged cut, evidently made by some blunt instrument. "A big stick as the boy said, no doubt," mused Herrick as he plastered and bathed and bound it up. "Stephen is stunned for the time being, but I do not think that the brain is injured. His head is pretty hard. Frisco had good intentions, but not sufficient judgment to strike hard." For of course it was Frisco who had done this. Dr. Jim remembered what Mrs. Marsh had said and regretted that she had passed away without informing him more fully of what she knew about Frisco. That the ex-sailor should dare to come down to the scene of his first crime in order to commit a second (for at the moment Herrick credited Frisco rather than Joyce with the Carr murder) was wonderful enough, but his reason must be more wonderful still. It was impossible that he should be able to get the fortune even if he put Stephen out of the way, for he was a proven murderer, and if he showed himself would be at once arrested. Certainly he might explain all suspicions away, but that was doubtful in the face of such strong evidence. Yet, apparently he had made up his mind to remove Stephen, and get the money.

"But he won't if I can help it," muttered Herrick, "the beast. I'll carry Stephen to the vault myself so that the terms of the monthly visit may be fulfilled. Not that I don't think he will be on his feet sooner than Frisco expects. The job had been badly done."

He sent in a message to Beorminster by a groom, telling Bridge of the new outrage and advising a search to be made for Frisco. Then the patient having been attended to and the would-be assassin recommended to the attention of the police, Dr. Jim could do nothing more. He sat before the library fire and smoked, thinking deeply the while.

"I wonder if Joyce attempted this murder," he thought. "There is something queer about this stopping here. But that boy said Joyce was at Biffstead talking to his sisters, if I believe one part of that vision--and I am bound to do that--I must believe the other. Not Joyce then, but there is Don Manuel, he is connected with Robin in some underhand way. Besides, he professed to hate Carr, to regret the loss of the treasure. It might be he, if he has been with Corn all the night well and good--if not, he will have to account to me for his time. I do not believe in the little reptile."

His meditations were ended by a sleepy servant who announced Ida, Bess and Frank. With them came Joyce wide-eyed with wonder; but so far as Dr. Jim could see there was no sign of terror or of guilt on his face, and Robin was not the man to conceal his feelings.

"Napper brought home Sidney and told us of this dreadful thing," said Bess who seemed the most collected of the party. "Is he--is he--"

"No, he is not dead nor do I think he will die. The blow was badly aimed."

"Who could have done it?" asked Frank frowning.

"I have my own opinion, but I prefer not to express it at present," said the doctor somewhat curtly.

"I want you to take me to him doctor," said Ida looking at him with imploring eyes. "Let me watch beside him."

"You can do no good Miss Endicotte," replied Herrick, "better let me look after him. To-morrow you can come over and watch if you like. I think he will recover consciousness before the dawn."

"Thank God for that!" cried Ida devoutly and then she wept. The strain on her had been very great and she was glad of the relief of tears.

"Have you looked for the man who did this?" asked Joyce.

"I have sent a message to the police at Beorminster," said Herrick without looking at him. "You can do no good Joyce; better go back to the inn. By the way your friend Santiago?"

"He has been with Corn all the night," said Frank, "we met them coming here. They had just heard the news, but Bess persuaded them to stay away thinking they would only bother you."

"I think it is best to keep the house as quiet as possible. Has Sidney said anything?" he asked looking at the sisters.

Ida clasped her hands in terror. "Did Sidney say this would happen?"

"Yes. He looked into yonder ink-pot and foretold the assault. I cannot understand the thing myself, but we can talk of it to-morrow. In the meantime, all of you hold your tongues about Sidney."

This they all promised to do and now being more at rest in their minds about Stephen, they went away. Herrick drew Bess aside at the door. "Come over with Ida to-morrow morning," he muttered, "I want to speak to you."

She nodded and ran after the rest who were disappearing into the darkness. Herrick with a frown returned to the library. "It was not Joyce," he muttered, "it was not Manuel. After all it _must_ be Frisco. Well, if the police are clever they will catch him before he can leave the district. Ha! I'll send a message to Southberry, it was that way he escaped last time."

Herrick hastily wrote out an explanation. He did not need to add a description of Frisco as the hand-bills had sufficiently described him. This he sent off with another groom, then went to pass the night beside the bed of his patient. All that night Stephen lay as still as a corpse.

It was towards morning when he moved and showed signs of returning consciousness. Herrick was assiduous in his attendance, and success crowned his efforts. Gradually Stephen came to himself, with a dull pain in his head, weak, but quite himself. "Where--where am I?" were his first stammering words.

"In your own house," said Herrick quickly, "don't talk my dear chap; you have had an accident."

"I remember," muttered Stephen, "at the vault, a blow,--yes, and--"

"Be quiet," said Herrick sternly, "you must not talk I tell you!" And after another attempt Stephen obeyed. Shortly he fell asleep. Herrick drew a long breath. The worst was over. For once the villany of Frisco had failed in its object.

Several people called that morning, amongst others Mr. Corn. The clergyman did not look well, and hurriedly asked after the sufferer. "I hope he is better," he said, "a terrible affair Dr. Herrick!"

"A cowardly crime!" said Herrick sharply. "However we can talk of that when Marsh gets better. Meantime Mr. Corn, will you tell me if Don Manuel was at your house last night?"

"Dear me, yes," replied Corn surprised. "He came to dinner, and stayed with me up till midnight. I was walking with him to the Carr Arms, when we met the Miss Endicottes who told us of this terrible business. Why do you ask me the question Dr. Herrick?"

"I have no special reason," replied Herrick mendaciously, "save that being in a sense responsible for the visit of Santiago to this place, I wish to warn you that I know nothing about him."

"Have you anything to say against his character?" asked the rector sharply.

"No! I know nothing about him. All I can say is that I do not like the man, and I think he is a bad lot. If you like to tell him this Mr. Corn you are at liberty to do so."

"I am not the man to make mischief," said Corn hotly, "so far as I can see Don Manuel appears to me to be perfectly respectable. If he is not, I can look after myself Dr. Herrick."

"I beg your pardon," said Herrick ceremoniously, "I did not wish to infer that you could not. All I have to say is that Mr. Marsh is better, and that in a week he will be about."

Pentland Corn murmured something about being pleased, and took his departure. Herrick did not quite know what to make of the rector. He was a good preacher, a kind-hearted man, and in his own way, clever. But he seemed to be weak, and usually had a haggard look on his face for which there was no apparent reason. Sometimes he went away to the sea-side for his health and invariably returned looking worse than ever. Altogether the man was a mystery, and Herrick could not make out what was at the back of his timidity, and his restless behaviour. "I seem to be surrounded with mysteries," said Herrick to himself. "I wonder if I shall ever get to the bottom of any one of them. If I do, the rest will easily be unravelled. I suspect the whole lot are of a piece."

Ida came that morning, and Bess. This latter young lady waited in the library while Herrick took up Ida to the room of Stephen. She had insisted upon going up to watch beside him. "It is my right you know," she said to Dr. Jim, and he silently admitted that it was.

Stephen had just opened his eyes when they entered. He tried to speak, but Ida placed her hand on his mouth and Herrick frowned. Marsh obediently held his tongue, and Ida sat by his bedside. However the patient managed to kiss Ida's hand. Then Herrick went down to see Bess, warning Ida that Stephen was not to speak. Marsh did make another attempt but Miss Endicotte would not allow it. "The doctor says you are to be quiet. If you say a word I shall go away."

"The ring?" murmured Stephen, looking at her.

She knew what he meant. Drawing the emerald ring he had brought her from town off the finger it was on, she put it on the engagement finger.

"Will that please your lordship?" said Ida gaily, but the tears were in her eyes. Stephen looked again. Thus was the situation adjusted between them without words. They were engaged to be married. Stephen fell asleep again holding the hand of his promised wife. Both were happy.

Meantime Bess and Herrick were in consultation. Herrick told the girl what Mrs. Marsh had said about Frisco, and how Stephen had been struck down from behind. "So it looks to me," he said, "as though this man were trying to get the money."

"It does," admitted Bess reflectively, "but why should Frisco do all these dreadful things to get the fortune? If he had Colonel Carr in his power he need not have killed him; nor need he now try and get Stephen out of the way. I don't understand it. However, as you have told the police both at Beorminster and Southberry, I am sure the man will be caught. I hope so I'm sure."

"Ah! Then you champion Frisco no longer?"

"No, if it were really he who attempted to murder Stephen I hope he will be caught and punished. All the same I do not think he killed Colonel Carr."

"What can be your reason for saying so?"

Bess hesitated. "Some time ago I promised to tell you something about the Colonel," she said. "I will do so in a week from to-day."

"Why not now?"

She shook her head. "Please do not ask me, but as far as this assault on Stephen goes, I am quite with you about Frisco. I hope he will be caught and punished."

"You are a strange girl," said Dr. Jim, "and a mystery like the rest."

"Who are the rest?" asked Bess smiling.

"Well," replied Jim after a pause, "Mrs. Marsh was one, you are another and Pentland Corn is a third--"

"Pentland Corn!" she echoed turning pale, "you don't suspect him of--"

"I don't suspect him of anything, but I do not understand why he is so intimate with that Mexican."

Bess opened her mouth to make a remark, then she changed her mind. "I can say nothing now," she said abruptly, "later on. Ida is with Stephen. Oh, well, I need not wait. I must go into Beorminster. They will be asking for news of this for the paper. I might hear something about Frisco there. If I do I shall let you know. Good-bye!" and before Herrick could stop her she was off like a swallow.

Evidently Bess knew something about Corn which she did want to admit at present. Herrick wondered what it could be. Surely she did not think the clergyman had liked Carr so much that he was working for the discovery of his murderer. "But she is doing some detective business on her own account," thought Jim rather vexed. "She will get into trouble if she does not take care. I wish she would let me know what she is up to. I'll wait a week, no longer. After that, she must speak out."

But before the week was ended, accident brought about a confession from Bess which Dr. Jim was far from expecting. It arose out of the wooing of Robin Joyce. Whether Manuel had used his influence or not to induce Joyce to leave Saxham, it is impossible to say. If he had, one would have thought that Robin would have resented the interference of his former friend Herrick. But several times during the week he met Dr. Jim, yet made no sign that Santiago had told him of the doctor's wish. He continued to haunt Biffstead and Dr. Jim hardly ever went there without meeting Robin coming or going. This did not make Jim any the more amiable.

The accident to Stephen caused great excitement in the country. Bridge came over to see the squire and to interview Dr. Jim. But nothing came of his talk or--so-called vigilance. The police both at Southberry and Beorminster failed to find any trace of Frisco, although the railway stations were watched carefully. Thanks to Herrick's prompt action, it was impossible that the man could have left the district without the knowledge of the police, yet he was not even seen. Bridge went to Heathcroft, but failed to learn that anyone resembling the ex-sailor had boarded a train at that station. To all appearances Frisco had not been in the neighbourhood. Yet if Frisco was not the culprit, who was?

Herrick knew that Joyce had been at Biffstead on the evening of the assault. According to the evidence of Corn, Don Manuel had been at the rectory till midnight. As the assault on Stephen took place shortly after eleven both these men must be held guiltless. Stephen himself could give no help. He had left the Biffs at a quarter to eleven, with the intention of coming straight back to "The Pines." Then as the night was fine, he thought he would go and have a look at the vault. He went into the churchyard and after seeing the new vault went on to the old one. While looking at it, he received a blow at the back of his head and remembered no more until he found himself in bed with Herrick bending over him. He had heard no footsteps behind him. The blow had been struck in the most unexpected manner, and he had been taken completely by surprise.

All this puzzled Herrick greatly. However, he determined to wait for another week to hear what Bess had to say. She might tell him something tangible, likely to lead to an explanation of these mysteries. But even if she did not Dr. Jim made up his mind to move in the matter. He would first have a talk with Robin and learn if he had anything to do with the death. He would have to explain away the evidence of the old-fashioned pistol being in his possession. It might not have been the weapon used; on the other hand, Herrick felt convinced in his own mind that it was. To unravel the puzzle therefore, Robin was the man he intended to begin with. He was assisted to make a start by the folly of Joyce himself, and this incidentally brought about the confession of Bess.

One afternoon towards the end of the week Herrick went to Biffstead. Ida was at "The Pines" with Stephen, and Bess was alone. Hearing this, Herrick volunteered to fetch her, and started off. As he approached the house he heard the voice of the girl raised in anger. She appeared at the French window of the drawing-room which looked out on the front of the house, and seemed in a state of alarm. The moment she saw him she passed rapidly through the window and caught him by the arm. At the same moment Robin, greatly excited, appeared at the window.

"Come back! Come back, Miss Bess. I did not mean it," he said.

"What is the matter?" asked Dr. Jim astonished.

"Come inside," panted Bess, "that man! I want you to thrash him. Oh, the coward!"

Dr. Jim took Bess by the arm and drew her into the room. Robin winced and shrank aside as the doctor entered. Bess had evidently been typing at her worktable, for it was drawn near the window, and some manuscript lay open on the table. Before this stood a chair, and near it was another chair in which to all appearances Robin Joyce had been seated.

"Now then!" said Herrick, when he had placed the girl in her chair, "what does this mean?"

"Nothing," said Robin very pale but trying to speak calmly. "Only that I asked Miss Endicotte to be my wife, and she refused."

"Quite right," flashed out Herrick angrily. "What right have you to ask her to be your wife?"

Before Robin could answer (not that he showed any inclination to do so) Bess started to her feet. "Yes!" she said indignantly. "He did ask me to be his wife and because I refused to marry him, he threatened me."

"Threatened you," Herrick turned on Joyce with a dangerous look.

"No! No!" implored Robin very white, "forget what I said. I did not mean any harm. I shall go away."

Herrick seized him by the wrist. "You will do nothing of the sort," he said quietly. "You must wait until I have heard all about this."

"Robin winced again and looked cowed. His lips were dry, his face was pale, and he cast an imploring look upon Bess. The girl returned that look with one of defiance and addressed herself to Herrick.

"Do you know what that little coward has accused me of?" she cried fiercely. "He said that I murdered Colonel Carr!"

Dr. Jim laughed. The accusation was so absurd that he could not help laughing. "Of course the man is mad," he said briefly.

"I did _not_ say that you had murdered Colonel Carr," cried Robin. "I only said that you were near the house at the time of the murder."

"Ah!" cried Herrick turning on the little wretch, "and how do you know that Mr. Joyce? Come. Out with it."

"He said he saw me," put in Bess.

"I did see you," said Robin making a clean breast of it. "You were near the house and for all I know----"

"So you _did_ come to Saxham on that night," interrupted Herrick. "Oh, you liar! You went to see Frith and Frith; you slept at the Hull Hotel, did you? And all the time you were down here! I believe you killed Colonel Carr yourself."

"I swear I did not," shrieked Robin, "she did if anyone."

"Don't you dare to say that again," cried Bess, "you are telling a lie."

"Were you not on the lawn in front of the house?" asked Robin.

"Yes, I was, and I can account for my presence to Dr. Herrick--not to you--little toad that you are," cried the angry girl. "Send him away," she added turning to Jim, "and I'll tell you all."

"Go back to the Carr Arms," said Herrick to Joyce sternly, "and wait for me there. If you try to run away, I shall have you arrested."

"You cannot arrest me," blustered Robin looking desperately afraid.

"I can. I have evidence you know nothing about. Go!"

Robin seemed inclined to dispute the order, but when Herrick made a step in his direction he caught up his hat and fled through the window. "He will run away," said Bess.

"Let him try," remarked Herrick grimly, "I can have him arrested at once and I will. Insult you, did he--the hound!"

"It was my own fault for being so kind to him," cried Bess excitedly, "as if I cared for him. It was only because he was a writer that I let him come and see me so often. But I shall not have anything more to do with him. He sent me a manuscript. I shall send it back. Where is it? and she began to pull out the drawers in the writing-table.

"Don't get excited Bess," said Jim using her Christian name in his hurry. "I will put it alright."

But Bess in a rage kept turning over the papers and scattering them on the floor in her search for the manuscript. Suddenly she tossed aside a pile of writing-paper in the left-hand drawer. Underneath was an old fashioned pistol. She looked at it in astonishment. "Where did that come from?" she asked in dismay, taking it up.

Herrick took it from her. He recognised it at once. It was the very pistol that Manuel had shown him in Joyce's flat.

"What does it mean?" asked Bess quite amazed at the discovery.

"It means that Joyce is even more of a hound than I thought he was."