Н. Самуэльян - Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

Doffing his old hat-crown, Quaco used it as an insect-net; and, after a few strokes, succeeded in capturing a cocuyo .

With this he returned into the hut, and, crossing over, held it near the head of the corpse.

He did not content himself with the gold green light which the insect emits from the two eyelike tubercles on its thorax. The forest-craft of Quaco enabled him to produce a brighter and better.

Holding open the elytra with his fingers, and bending back the abdomen with his thumb, he exposed that oval disc of orange light – only seen when the insect is on the wing.

A circle of a yard in diameter was illuminated by the phosphoric glow. In that circle was the face of a dead man; and sufficiently bright was the lamp of the cocuyo , to enable the spectators to identify the ghastly lineaments as those of the Custos Vaughan.

Chapter 22

A Double Murder

None of the three started or felt surprise. That had been gradually passing: for before this their presentiment had become almost a conviction.

Quaco simply uttered one of those exclamations that proclaim a climax; Cubina felt chagrined – disappointed in more ways than one; while Herbert gave way to grief – though less than he might have done, had his relative more deserved his sorrow.

It was natural they should inquire into the circumstances of the Custos’s death. Now, firmly believing he had been murdered, and by the caçadores , they proceeded to make an examination of the body.

Mystery of mysteries! a dozen stabs by some sharp instrument, and no blood! Wounds through the breast, the abdomen, the heart – all clean cut punctures, and yet no gore – no extravasation!

“Who gave the stabs? you did this, you wretches!” cried Herbert, turning fiercely upon the employés of Jessuron.

“ Carrambo ! why should we do such a thing, master?” innocently inquired Andres. “The alcalde was dead before we came up.”

“Spanish palaver!” cried Quaco. “Look at these blades!” he continued, taking up the two machetes , “they’re wet now! ’Ta’nt blood azzactly; but somethin’ – . See,” he exclaimed, holding his cocuyo over the wounds, and presenting one of the machetés to the light, “they fit to these holes like a cork to a bottle. ’Twere they that made em, nothin’ but they, an’ you did it, ye ugly skinks!”

“By the Virgin, Señor Quaco!” replied Andres, “you wrong us. I’ll swear on the holy evangelists, we didn’t kill the alcalde – Custos, I mean. Carrambo ! no. We were as much surprised as any of you, when we came in here and found him lying dead – just as he is now.”

There was an air of sincerity in the declaration of the wretch that rendered it difficult to believe in his guilt – that is, the guilt of him and his companion as the real murderers, though their intention to have been so was clear enough to Cubina.

“ Crambo ! why did you stab him?” said he to the two prisoners. “You need not deny that you did that.”

“Señor capitan,” answered the crafty Andres, who in all delicate questions appeared to be spokesman, “we won’t deny that. It is true – I confess it with shame – that we did run our blades once or twice through the body.”

“A dozen times, you John Crow!” corrected Quaco.

“Well, Señor Quaco,” continued the Spaniard, “I won’t be particular about the number. There may have been a thrust or two less, or more. It was all a whim of my comrade, Manuel, here – a little bit of a wager between us.”

“A wager for what?” asked Herbert.

“Well, you see, master, we’d been journeying, as I’ve said already, to Savanna. We saw the horse tied outside this little rancho, and thought we would go in and see who was inside. Carrambo ! what should we see but the body of a dead man lying stretched out on the bamboos! Santissima! Señores , we were as much startled as you!”

“Terribly surprised, I suppose?” sarcastically spoke Cubina.

“Nearly out of our senses, I assure you, señor.”

“Go on, you wretch!” commanded Herbert. “Let us hear what tale you have to tell.”

“Well!” said the caçadore , resuming his narration, “after a while we got a little over our fright – as one naturally does, you know – and then Manuel says to me, ‘Andres!’ ‘What is it, Manuel?’ said I. ‘Do you think,’ said he, ‘that blood would run out of a dead body?’ ‘Certainly not,’ said I; ‘not a drop.’ ‘I’ll bet you five pesos it will,’ challenged my camarado . ‘Done!’ said I; and then, to settle the thing, we – I acknowledge it – did run our machetés through the body of the Custos – of course, we could do him no harm then.”

“Monsters!” exclaimed Herbert; “it was almost as bad as killing him! What a horrid tale! Ha! you wretches, notwithstanding its ingenuity, it’ll not save your necks from a halter!”

“Oh, señorito,” said Andres, appealingly, “we’ve done nothing to deserve that. I can assure you we are both right sorry for what we’ve done. Ain’t you sorry, Manuel?”

“ Carrai ! that I am,” earnestly answered Manuel.

“We both regretted it afterwards,” continued Andres, “and to make up for what we had done, we took the cloak and spread it decently over the body – in order that the poor alcalde should rest in peace.”

“Liar!” cried Quaco, throwing the light of his cocuyo on the corpse. “You did no such thing; you stabbed him through the cloak. Look there!”

And as Quaco gave this indignant denial, he pointed to the cuts in the cloth to prove the falsehood of the Spaniard’s statement.

“ Carrai-ai-i !” stammered out the confounded Andres. “Sure enough there’s a cut or two. Oh, now I recollect: we first covered him up. It was after we did that, we then made the bet – didn’t we, Manuel?”

Manuel’s reply was not heard: for at that instant the hoof-strokes of horses were heard in front of the hut; and the shadowy forms of two horsemen could be distinguished just outside the doorway.

It was the black groom, who had returned from Content, accompanied by the overseer of the estate.

Shortly after a number of negroes appeared on foot, carrying a stretcher.

Their purpose was to convey the sick man to Content.

Circumstances had occurred to make a change in the character of their duty.

Chapter 23

Chakra on the Back Track

Of the three magistrates who condemned the Coromantee, one had been slumbering in his grave for six months; the second, about that number of days; and the third – the great Custos himself – was now a corpse!

Of all three had the myal-man been the murderer; though in the case of the first two there had been no suspicion of foul play, or, at least, not enough to challenge inquest or investigation. Both had died of lingering diseases, bearing a certain resemblance to each other; and though partaking very much of the nature of a wasting, intermittent fever, yet exhibiting symptoms that were new and strange – so strange as to baffle the skill of the Jamaican disciples of Aesculapius.

About the death of either one Chakra had not felt the slightest apprehension – nor would he even had an investigation arisen. In neither murder had his hand appeared. Both had been accomplished by the invisible agency of Obi, that at this period held mysterious existence on every plantation in the Island.

With the assassination of the Custos, however, it was different. Circumstances had caused that event to be hurried, and there was danger – as Chakra himself had admitted – that the spell of Obi might be mistaken for a spell of poison. A death so sudden, and by natural causes inexplicable, would, undoubtedly, provoke speculation, and lead to the opening and examining of the body.