J. S. Fletcher - The Collected Works of J. S. Fletcher - 17 Novels & 28 Short Stories (Illustrated Edition)

"Good-morning, Mr. Taffendale," he said, with an attempt at ease which Taffendale inwardly cursed for his familiarity. "A fine autumn morning, sir."

"Good-morning," answered Taffendale. He had faced Justice by that time, and he continued to regard him with disfavour. "Do you want to speak to me?" he asked.

Justice smiled again, and taking out his pipe from an inner pocket of his velveteen coat, made a show of lighting it. Taffendale, keenly observant, noticed that his hands trembled a little.

"Well, that's the truth, I did, sir," replied Justice, with an assumption of frankness. "That's what I stepped across for, Mr. Taffendale."

"Well?" said Taffendale.

Justice threw away the match and blew out a cloud of 'smoke. He watched it float upward as if its gyrations were of vast interest.

"That's a queer business about this man Webster, Mr. Taffendale," he said suddenly.

Taffendale, who had again turned to the quarry, glanced sharply round. He had found Justice eyeing him narrowly.

"What about Webster?" he said.

"He's disappeared," replied Justice. "Never been seen since Sunday. And this is Wednesday. He's a good job of work, too, at Mr. Uscroft's. Thatching."

Taffendale again turned away.

"It's of no interest to me where Webster is or isn't," he said.

Justice coughed. The sound was intended to convey doubt.

"Well, maybe it isn't, but maybe it is, Mr. Taffendale," he remarked. "You see, sir, when there was a bit of inquiry as to Webster yesterday, I made it my business to take a look round the cottage and garden, and I found out that he's been poaching. I found two dozen rabbits in an old cucumber frame under some sacking."

Taffendale made no reply. But he was beginning to understand that Justice had not come up to the Limepits for nothing, and he was listening with a greater intentness than he would have cared to betray.

"Aye, two dozen rabbits!" the gamekeeper continued. "Now, I'm a bit of a hand at going into details and forming conclusions, Mr. Taffendale, and when I'd looked those rabbits carefully over I knew where Webster had snared them. Those rabbits, sir, had come from Badger's Hollow, down there in the woods yonder."

Still Taffendale made no sign and no answer, and Justice, watching him closely, saw no flicker of eyelid or twitch of lip. But Taffendale in his heart knew what was coming.

"So last night," continued Justice, "last night, sir, I went to Badger's Hollow on the chance of seeing if Webster was lying hidden there, and had anybody in with him at this job. I was there a good while, sir. And—I didn't see Webster. But—I saw you, Mr. Taffendale."

Still Taffendale remained silent. But his right foot had begun to scrape the gravel at his feet, and he suddenly kicked a pebble out into the quarry, where it went rattling across the shelving limestone.

"And," said Justice, in a lower voice, "I saw Perris's wife."

In the silence that followed up there on the lip of the quarry the deadened sound of the picks and shovels at work deep down below seemed to come from some far-off world. Justice broke the silence by striking a match. And as the rasping sound died Taffendale turned on him in a deadly quiet fury that made the gamekeeper start back.

"Damn you!" said Taffendale through his closed teeth. "For less than you think I'd pitch you neck and crop into that quarry!"

Justice drew still further back. He cast a significant glance at his gun.

"No you wouldn't, Mr. Taffendale! No, you wouldn't!" he said quietly. "This gun's loaded, sir, and if you'd to offer me any violence I'd use it. As you've spoken plain, I'll speak plain, too, Mr. Taffendale."

Taffendale thrust his hands in his pockets, to conceal the trembling that had come over them. He turned his back on the gamekeeper, and walked forward along the edge of the quarry. And justice, with a smile on his face, refilled his pipe, and this time took his leisure about lighting it with steady hands. Taffendale came back at last, master of himself again. He looked at Justice with his usual cold air of distasteful inspection.

"Well, I suppose that's what you came to say?" he remarked.

"That's about all, Mr. Taffendale," answered the gamekeeper.

"About all?" sneered Taffendale. "I can guess the rest, Mr. Keeper. The rest is—how much am I going to give you to hold your tongue?"

Justice looked at the rich man sharply, and with a sudden feeling of uneasiness. Rich folk, he knew, are apt to be independent.

"Well, it wouldn't be a pleasant thing for you, Mr. Taffendale, if the truth came out," he said. "I reckon nothing of Perris—he's a poor, feckless sort, from what I've seen of him, and I should think he's inclined to submit to anything. But there's such a thing as public opinion, sir, and—"

"And there's such a thing as blackmail, and there's such a thing as law," said Taffendale. "You're hinting at one, and you're bringing yourself within reach of the other. Who was with you last night?" he demanded, turning sharply on Justice.

"Nobody, sir, nobody!" replied the gamekeeper, taken unawares. "Nobody at all, Mr. Taffendale." Taffendale laughed.

"You're a fool!" he said. "Where're your witnesses? You come here, and threaten me with a cock-and-bull story, and all for what? To get money out of me. Mind I don't put the police on to you, my man!"

Justice suddenly realised that he was dealing with a cleverer man than himself; that he had been too confident, that he had been too hasty. His countenance betrayed his disappointment.

"I know what I saw," he muttered sulkily.

Taffendale laughed again, showing his white teeth, and the gamekeeper was suddenly reminded of an animal that bares its fangs when it comes to a life-anddeath fight. And as he laughed, he waved his hand in the direction of the village.

"Go down to the pot-house yonder in Martinsthorpe," said Taffendale severely, "and tell your cronies what's in your mind, and I'll have you in the hands of the police before a day's over. And now, then, get off my land!"

Justice stood for a moment looking uneasily at the man in whom he had thought to find an easy victim. Then he nodded his head, and turned off towards the path.

"All right, Mr. Taffendale," he said. "I see, sir! But there's more ways than one. And I don't think Badger's Hollow 'll see you and Mrs. Perris again."

Taffendale made no answer. He remained watching Justice until the gamekeeper had gone down the path and away towards the village. For half-an-hour longer he watched his men, and his eyes were dark and sombre with thought, and now and then he muttered his thoughts half-aloud. He was beginning to understand why Rhoda had felt some curious prevision of coming trouble.

He went slowly back to the farmstead as noon drew near, and just as he reached his garden gate he met the young labourer whom Perris had hired when he discharged Pippany Webster. He held out to Taffendale a cheap envelope, which bore plentiful impressions of his own fingers.

"T' missis hes sent this 'ere letter," he said bluntly. "And shoo said wo'd you please to read it as soon as it were 'livered?"

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Taffendale took the cheap envelope from the lad without comment, and tearing it open, drew out a crumpled sheet of equally cheap notepaper, in the top left-hand corner of which a crude representation of a pansy was stamped. He remembered as he unfolded it that he had never seen Rhoda's handwriting; there was no surprise aroused in him when he saw that it resembled the caligraphy of a school-boy who has been taught nothing but formal and elementary penmanship. He stared at the two or three lines traced hurriedly across the front page.

"Will you please come here as soon as you can. I am afraid something is wrong."