The Curse of Carne's Hold: A Tale of Adventure

  CHAPTER VI.

  RUTH POWLETT.

  Lieutenant Gulston and his companion had not long to wait to learn theverdict, for in a few minutes the people began to pour out of the house,and a constable came out, and, after looking round, walked up to thelieutenant.

  "Mr. Gulston," he said, "your presence will be required to-morrow ateleven o'clock at Mr. Volkes's. Captain Mervyn will be brought up thereat eleven o'clock to-morrow."

  "Very well," Mr. Gulston replied. "What verdict have the coroners juryfound?"

  "They have found Captain Mervyn guilty of wilful murder," the manreplied.

  The next morning the inquiry was heard before Mr. Volkes and two othermagistrates, and the doctor's evidence, that of Mr. Gulston, thegardener, the cook, and the constable who found the glove, wasconsidered sufficient. Mr. Carne was not summoned, and although RuthPowlett's name was called, she did not answer to it, Dr. Arrowsmithexplaining to the bench that she was too ill to be present. CaptainMervyn was asked if he had any questions to ask the witnesses, or anystatement to make; but he simply said that he should reserve hisdefence, and the case was then adjourned for a week to see if anyfurther evidence would be forthcoming, the magistrates intimating thatunless some altogether new light was thrown upon the subject they shouldcommit the prisoner for trial.

  Very gravely and silently the men who composed the coroner's jury walkeddown to Carnesford; scarce a word was spoken on the way, and astranger, meeting them, might have supposed, not unnaturally, that theywere returning from a funeral. The news had arrived before them, havingbeen carried down at full speed by one of the few villagers who had beenpresent. It had at first been received with absolute incredulity. Theidea that Captain Mervyn should kill Margaret Carne seemed so wild aproposition that the first person to arrive with it was whollydisbelieved, and even the confirmation of those who followed him wasalso doubted. People, however, moved towards the foot of the hill tomeet the jury, and a small crowd had collected by the time they had comedown. The jury, upon being questioned, admitted that they had foundRonald Mervyn guilty, and when the fact was grasped, a sort of awedsilence fell upon their hearers.

  "Why, whatever were you all thinking of?" one of the men said. "Why, youmust have been downright mad. You find that Captain Mervyn was themurderer of his own cousin, and Mr. Carne your own landlord, too! Inever heard tell of such a thing."

  The jury, indeed, were regarded almost as culprits; even to themselvesnow, their verdict seemed monstrous, though at the time the evidence hadappeared so strong that they had felt themselves unable to resist thecoroner's expressed opinion that, upon the evidence before them, theyhad no course open but to return a verdict of wilful murder againstRonald Mervyn.

  "You will hear about it presently, lads," Hiram Powlett said. "If youhad been in our place, and had heard what we have heard, you would havesaid the same. I should have no more believed it myself this morning, ifany one had told me that Captain Mervyn had murdered his cousin, than Ishould if they had told me that the mill stream was running the wrongway; but now I sees otherwise. There ain't one of us here as wouldn'thave given another verdict if we could have done so, but having heardwhat we heard there weren't no other verdict to be given. I would havegiven a hundred pounds myself to have found any other way, but Icouldn't go against my conscience; and besides, the coroner told us thatif Captain Mervyn is innocent, he will have full opportunity of provingit at the trial. And now I must be off home, for I hear Mr. Carne sentdown Ruth, as soon as she had given her evidence, in one of hiscarriages."

  Ruth had so far recovered that she was sitting on a chair by the firewhen her father entered. She had heard nothing of what had taken placeat the inquest beyond her own evidence, and she looked anxiously at herfather as he slowly took off his coat and hat and hung them up, and cameover to the fire beside her.

  "How are you feeling now, Ruth? You were looking sadly when you were inthe court."

  "I believe you will kill the child between you," Mrs. Powlett said,testily, as she entered with the dinner. "Any one can see with half aneye that she ain't fit to be going before a court and giving evidenceafter the shock as she 'as had. She ought to have been left quiet. Ifyou had half the feeling of a man in you, Hiram Powlett, you wouldn'thave let them do it. If I had been there I should have got up and said:'Your worship can see for yourself as my daughter is more fit to be inbed than to be worrited and questioned here. She ain't got nothing totell you more than you knows yourself. She just came in and found hermistress dead, and that's all she knows about it.'"

  "And what verdict did you find, father?" Ruth asked, as soon as hermother had finished.

  "'_What verdict did you find, father?' Ruth asked._"]

  "Verdict! What verdict should they find," Mrs. Powlett said, angrily,"but that they just knew nothing at all about it?"

  "That wasn't the verdict, Hesba," Hiram Powlett said, as he seatedhimself at the table; "I wish to God it had been. There was things cameout at the trial as altogether altered the case. We found as one hadbeen quarrelling with Miss Carne, and threatening what he would do toher. We found as something belonging to him had been found close athand, where it could only have been put somewhere about the time of themurder. We found as the person couldn't tell us where he had been at thetime; and though it were sorely against us to do it, and seemed the mostunnatural thing in the world, we had to find a verdict of wilful murderagainst Captain Mervyn."

  Ruth had risen from her seat as her father was speaking; her face hadgrown whiter and whiter as he went on, and one hand had gone to herheart, while the other clutched at the back of the chair. As he finishedshe gave a sudden start, and burst into a scream of hysterical laughter,so startling Hiram Powlett and his wife, neither of whom was looking ather, that the former upset his chair as he started to his feet, whilethe latter dropped the plate she was in the act of setting before him.

  For some minutes the wild laughter rang through the house. Hesba had atonce taken the girl in her arms, and seated her in the chair again, andafter trying for a minute or two vainly to soothe her, turned to Hiram.

  "Don't stand staring there, Hiram; run for the doctor. Look what youhave done, with your stories about your courts and your verdicts. Youhave just scared her out of her mind."

  Fortunately as Hiram ran up into the village street he saw Dr.Arrowsmith--who had waited at The Hold, talking over the matter to someof his neighbours--driving down the hill, and at once fetched him in toRuth.

  "The girl is in violent hysterics, Hiram," the doctor said, as soon ashe had entered. "Carry her upstairs, and lay her down on the bed; it'sno use trying to get her to drink that now"--for Mrs. Powlett was tryingin vain to get Ruth to take some brandy--"she cannot swallow. Now I willhelp you upstairs with her. The great thing is to get her to lie down."

  It seemed hours to Hiram Powlett, as he listened to the wild screamingand laughter overhead, but in reality it was not many minutes before thedoctor came down again.

  "I am going to drive home and get some chloroform," he said, "I shan'tbe two minutes gone;" and before Hiram could ask a question he hurriedout, jumped into his dogcart, and drove off.

  There was no change until his return, except that once or twice therewas a moment's cessation in the screaming. Hiram could not remain in thehouse, but went out and walked up and down until the doctor returned.

  "No change, I hear," the latter remarked, as he jumped down from thedogcart, for Ruth's cries could be heard down at the gate of the garden.

  Then he hurried on into the house and upstairs, poured some chloroforminto a handkerchief, and waved it in Ruth's face. Gradually the screamsabated, and in two or three minutes the girl was lying quiet and still.

  "Now, lift her head, Mrs. Powlett, while I pour a few drops of thisnarcotic between her lips."

  "Can she swallow, sir?"

  "Not consciously, but it will find its way down her throat. I don't likedoing it, but we must send her to sleep. Weak as she is, and shaken byall she has gone through, sh
e will kill herself if she goes on withthese hysterics."

  As soon as Ruth showed signs of returning consciousness, the doctoragain placed the handkerchief near her face, keeping his fingerscarefully on her pulse as he did so.

  This was repeated again and again, and then the opiate began to takeeffect.

  "I think she will do now," he said, at last; "it's a hazardousexperiment, but it was necessary. Now you can go down to your husbandfor a few minutes, and tell him how she is. I shall remain here for atime."

  "She is off now," Mrs. Powlett said, as she came downstairs.

  "Asleep?" Hiram asked.

  "Well, it's sleep, or chloroform, or laudanum, or a little of each ofthem," Mrs. Powlett said. "Anyhow, she is lying quiet, and looks as ifshe were asleep. Dear, dear, what things girls are. And to think thatall these years we have never had a day's sickness with her, and now itall comes one on the top of the other; but, of course, when one's got ahusband who comes and blurts things out before a girl that's thatdelicate that the wind would blow her over, what can you expect?"

  "I didn't mean----" Hiram began, but Hesba cut him short.

  "That's the way with men; they never do mean; they never use the littlesense they have got. I don't expect that there's a man, woman, or childin Carnesford that wouldn't have known better. Here you had her downhere for well nigh a month as bad as she could be; then she gets thatterrible shock and goes off fainting all day; then she has to go intocourt, and as if that wasn't enough for her, you comes and blurts outbefore her that you found as Captain Mervyn murdered his cousin. Iwouldn't call myself a man if I was you, Hiram Powlett. I had a betteridea of you before."

  "What could I have said?" urged Hiram, feebly.

  "Said?" Hesba repeated, scornfully. "In the first place you need nothave said anything; then if you couldn't hold your tongue, you mighthave said that, of course, you had found a verdict of wilful murderagainst some one or other, which would be quite true; but even if ithadn't been you need not have minded that when it comes to saving yourown daughter's life. There, sit down and have some food, and go out toyour mill."

  Hiram Powlett had no appetite whatever, but he meekly sat down, ate afew mouthfuls of food, and then, when Hesba left the room for a moment,took his cap from the peg and went out. Mrs. Powlett ate her mealstanding; she had no more appetite for it than her husband, but she knewshe should not have an opportunity of coming downstairs again when oncethe doctor had left, so she conscientiously forced herself to eat asmuch as usual, and then, after clearing away the things, and warning thelittle servant that she must not make the slightest sound, she went intothe parlour and sat down until the doctor came downstairs.

  "She is quiet now. I will come back again when I have had my dinner. Sitclose by her, and if you see any signs of change, sprinkle a littlewater on her face and send for me; and you may pour a few drops ofbrandy down her throat. If her breathing continues regular, and as slowas it is at present, do nothing until I return."

  For a fortnight Ruth Powlett lay between life and death, then she turnedthe corner, and very slowly and gradually began to recover. Six weekshad passed by, and she was about again, a mere shadow of her formerself. No further evidence of any kind had been obtained with referenceto the murder at The Hold. Mrs. Mervyn had a detective down fromLondon, and he had spent days in calling at all the villages withintwenty miles in the endeavour to find some one who had heard a horsemanpass between the hours of twelve and three. This, however, he failed todo; he had tracked the course of Ronald Mervyn up to ten o'clock, butafter that hour he could gather no information. Even a reward of fiftypounds failed to bring any tidings of a horseman after that hour. RonaldMervyn had followed a circuitous route, apparently going quite atrandom, but when heard of at ten o'clock he was but thirteen milesdistant, which would have left an ample margin of time for him to haveridden to The Hold and carried out his designs.

  The description of Margaret Carne's watch and jewellery had beencirculated by the police throughout England, but so far none of itappeared to have been offered for sale at any jeweller's or pawnbroker'sin the country. In South Devonshire, people were divided into twoparties on the subject of Ronald Mervyn's guilt or innocence. No oneremained neutral on the subject. Some were absolutely convinced that, inspite of appearances, he was innocent. Others were equally positive thathe was guilty. The former insisted that the original hypothesis as tothe murder was the correct one, and that it had been committed by sometramp. As to the impossibility of this man having killed Margaret Carnein her sleep, they declared that there was nothing in it. Every one knewthat tramps were rough subjects, and this man might be an especiallyatrocious one. Anyhow, it was a thousand times more probable that thiswas how it came about than that Ronald Mervyn should have murdered hiscousin.

  The other party were ready to admit that it was improbable that a manshould murder his cousin, but they fell back upon the evidence thatshowed he and no one else had done it, and also upon the well-knowncurse upon Carne's Hold, and the fact that Mervyn on his mother's sidehad the Carne blood in his veins. Every one knew, they argued, that madpeople murder their husbands, wives, or children; why, then, not acousin?

  There was a similar difference of opinion on the subject among thelittle conclave in the snuggery at the "Carne's Arms."

  Jacob Carey and the old clerk were both of opinion that Ronald Mervynwas guilty, the former basing his opinion solely upon the evidence, andthe latter upon the curse of the Carnes. The landlord maintained adiplomatic reserve. It was not for him to offend either section of hiscustomers by taking a decided side. He therefore contented himself bysaying, "There's a great deal in what you say," to every argumentbrought forward in the coffee-room, the tap-room, or snuggery.

  The "Carne's Arms" was doing a larger trade than it had ever donebefore. There were two detectives staying in the house, and every daycoaches brought loads of visitors from Plymouth; while on Saturday andMonday hundreds of people tramped over from the railway station, comingfrom Plymouth and Exeter to have a view of the house where the tragedyhad taken place. The pressure of business was indeed so great that thelandlord had been obliged to take on two extra hands in the kitchen, andto hire three girls from the village to attend to the customers in thecoffee-room and tap-room.

  Hiram Powlett was Captain Mervyn's champion in the snuggery. It was truehe had few arguments to adduce in favour of his belief, and he allowedthe smith and Reuben Claphurst to do the greater part of the talking,while he smoked his pipe silently, always winding up the discussion bysaying: "Well, neighbours, I can't do much in the way of arguing, and Iallow that what you say is right enough, but for all that I believeCaptain Mervyn to be innocent. My daughter Ruth won't hear a word saidas to his being guilty, and I think with her."

  Hiram Powlett and his wife had indeed both done their best to carry outthe doctor's orders that nothing should be said in Ruth's hearing of themurder. But the girl, as soon as she was sufficiently recovered to talk,was always asking questions as to whether any further clue had beendiscovered as to the murderer, and she was indeed so anxious and urgenton the matter that the doctor had felt it better to withdraw hisinterdict, and to allow her father to tell her any little scraps ofgossip he had picked up.

  "The idea has evidently got possession of her mind, Hiram," the doctorsaid. "She was very attached to her mistress, and is no doubt mostanxious that her murderer shall be brought to justice. I have changed myopinion, and think now that you had better not shirk the subject. Shehas been a good deal more feverish again the last day or two. Of courseshe must stay here now until after the trial, which will come off in afortnight. When that is over, I should strongly recommend you to sendher away from here for a time; it doesn't matter where she goes to, sothat she is away from here. If you have any friends or relations you cansend her to, let her go to them; if not, I will see about some home forconvalescent patients where she would be taken in. There are several ofthem about; one at the Isle of Wight, I believe. That would suit hervery well, as t
he climate is mild. Anyhow, she must not stop here. Ishall be heartily glad myself when the trial is over. Go where I will Ihear nothing else talked about. No one attends to his own business, andthe amount of drunkenness in the place has trebled. If I had my way, Iwould have a regulation inflicting a heavy fine upon every one whoafter the conclusion of the trial ventured to make any allusion, howeverslight, to it. It's disgusting to see the number of people who come hereevery day and go up the hill to have a look at the house."

  As the day for the trial approached, Ruth Powlett became more and moreanxious and nervous about it. It kept her awake at nights, and shebrooded on it during the day. For hours she would sit with her eyesfixed upon the fire without opening her lips, and the doctor becameseriously anxious lest she should be again laid up before it becamenecessary to give her evidence.

  There was indeed a terrible fight going on in Ruth's mind. She knew thatCaptain Mervyn was innocent; she knew that George Forester was guilty,and yet the memory of her past life was still so strong in her that shecould not bring herself to denounce him, unless it became absolutelynecessary to do so to save Ronald Mervyn's life. Ronald had insulted andthreatened her mistress, and had not George Forester been beforehandwith him, he might have done her some grievous harm, or he might perhapshave murdered Lieutenant Gulston, for whom Ruth felt a strong attractionbecause she had discerned that Margaret loved him.

  It was right, then, that Ronald Mervyn should suffer, but it was notright that he should be hung. If he could clear himself without herbeing obliged to denounce George Forester, let him do so; but if not, ifhe were found guilty, then she had no other course open to her. She mustcome forward and produce the knife and describe how she had found it,and confess why she had so long concealed it. All this would be veryterrible. She pictured to herself the amazement of the court, thedisapproval with which her conduct would be received, the way in whichshe would be blamed by all who knew her, the need there would be forgoing away from home afterwards and living somewhere where no one wouldknow her story; but not for this did she ever waver in herdetermination. Ronald Mervyn must be saved from hanging, for she wouldbe as bad as a murderess if she kept silent and suffered him to beexecuted for a crime she knew that he had not committed.

  Still she would not do it until the last thing; not till everything elsefailed would she denounce George Forester as a murderer. She loved himno longer; she knew that had he not been interrupted he would perhapshave killed her. It was partly the thought of their boy-and-girl life,and of the hours they had spent together by the side of the Dare, thatsoftened her heart; this and the thought of the misery of the kind oldman, his father.

  "I don't understand Ruth," the doctor said one day to Mrs. Powlett. "Sheought to get better faster than she does. Of course she has had aterrible shock, and I quite understand its affecting her as it did, justas she was recovering from her former illness; but she does not mend asshe ought to do. She has lost strength instead of gaining it during thepast week. She is flushed and feverish, and has a hunted look about hereyes. If I had known nothing of the circumstances of the case I shouldhave said that she has something on her mind."

  "There is nothing she can have on her mind," Hesba Powlett replied. "Youknow we had trouble with her about that good-for-nothing GeorgeForester?" The doctor nodded. It was pretty well known throughout thevillage how matters stood.

  "She gave him up weeks and weeks ago, just at the time he went away,when he was wanted for the share he had in that poaching business up inthe Carne Woods. She told her father that she saw we had been right, andwould have nothing more to say to him. That was a week or more beforeshe had that fall on the hill, and I have never heard her mention hisname since. I feel sure that she is not fretting about him. Ruth hasalways been a sensible girl, and once she has made up her mind shewasn't likely to turn back again."

  "No, I should not say that she was fretting on his account, Mrs.Powlett. Fretting in young women shows itself in lowness of spirits andgeneral depression and want of tone. In her case it appears to me to berather some sort of anxiety, though about what I cannot guess. If it hadbeen any other girl in the village, I should have had my suspicion thatshe had taken a fancy in some way to Ronald Mervyn, and was anxiousabout the trial; but of course that is out of the question in Ruth'scase. No doubt she is anxious about the trial, and has a nervous dreadof being obliged to stand up and describe the scene again in a crowdedcourt, and perhaps be questioned and cross-questioned. It's a tryingthing for any one; still more so, of course, for a girl whose nerveshave been shattered, and who is in a weak and debilitated state ofhealth. Well, I shall be heartily glad when it's all over, and we settledown into our ordinary ways."

  "What do you think will be the verdict, sir? Do you think they will findCaptain Mervyn guilty?"

  "I do not like to give an opinion, Mrs. Powlett. It depends so much onthe jury, and on the way the counsel and judge put it, but I hardlythink that the evidence is sufficient to hang a man. There are, ofcourse, grave grounds for suspicion, but I should doubt whether any jurywould find Mervyn guilty upon them. It would be amply sufficient if itwere merely a case of robbery, but men don't like to find a verdict whenthere is a possibility of their finding out too late to save a man'slife that they have been mistaken. At any rate, Mrs. Powlett, do yourbest to keep Ruth's thoughts from dwelling on the subject. I wish it wassummer weather, and that she could sit out in the garden. Of course sheis not strong enough to be able to walk, except for a hundred yards orso, but I would get her to take a little turn, if it's only once roundthe garden now and then."

  "I don't think she would walk if she could, sir. When I was speaking theother day about her getting well enough to go out for walks, she turnedwhite and shivered, and said she didn't want to go outside the dooragain, not for ever so long. That fall she got seems to have changed heraltogether."

  "Well, well, we must get her away, as I said, Mrs. Powlett. She wantsmore bracing air than you have got here, and to have the wind eithercoming straight off the sea or else to be in some hilly, breezy place."

  "I am sure I don't know how it's to be managed. She can't go by herself,and I don't see how I am to leave Hiram."

  "You will have to leave Hiram for a day or two, and take her wherever wefix upon as the best place and settle her there. Hiram will get on verywell without you for a day or two. She is no more fit to travel alonethan a baby. However, I must be off. Keep up her spirits as well as youcan, and don't let her brood over this business."

  At last the day when Ronald Mervyn was to be tried for murder arrived.The Assizes were at Exeter, and never in the memory of man had therebeen such numerous applications to the sheriff and other officials forseats in the court. The interest in the case had extended far beyond thelimits of Devonshire. The rank in life of the victim and the accused,the cold-blooded nature of the murder, and the nature of the evidencerendered the affair a _cause celebre_, and the _pros_ and _cons_ of thecase were discussed far and wide.

  The story of the curse of Carne's Hold had been given at full length bythe reporters of the local papers and copied by all the journals of thekingdom, and the fact that madness was hereditary in the family went formuch in the arguments of those who held that Captain Mervyn was guilty.Had it not been for this, the tide of public feeling would have beendistinctly in favour of the accused.

  By itself, the rest of the evidence was inconclusive. Men who have beenjilted not unfrequently use strong language, and even threats, withoutanything coming of it. The fact of the glove having been found where itwas was certainly suspicious, but, after all, that in itself did notcount for much; the glove might have been blown to where it was found,or a dog might have picked it up and carried it there. A dozenexplanations, all possible even if not probable, could be given for itspresence, and before a man could be found guilty of murder uponcircumstantial evidence, there must be no room whatever left for doubt.Therefore, the quarrel, the finding of the glove, and even the fact thatCaptain Mervyn was unable to prove an _alibi_, woul
d scarcely havecaused public opinion to decide against him had it not been for the factof that taint of insanity in his blood. Call a dog mad and you hang him.Call a man mad and the public will easily credit him with the commissionof the most desperate crimes; therefore, the feeling of the majority ofthose who assembled at the Court House at Exeter, was unfavourable toRonald Mervyn.

  The attitude of the prisoner did much to dispel this impression; he wasgrave, as one might well be with such a charge hanging over him, butthere was nothing moody or sombre, still less wild, in his expression;he looked calmly round the court, acknowledged the encouraging nodsgiven him by some of his fellow officers, who had come over to bearwitness on the point of character, and who to a man believed him to beinnocent. Certainly there was nothing to suggest in the slightest degreethe suspicion of madness in his appearance; and many of those who hadbefore been impressed by the story of the family taint, now veered roundand whispered to their friends that the story of insanity was allnonsense, and that Ronald Mervyn looked wholly incapable of such a crimeas that of which he was accused.

  Dr. Arrowsmith had brought Ruth over under his personal charge. As shecame out, when he called in his trap to take her to the station, he wassurprised at the change which had taken place since he saw her theevening before. The anxious and nervous expression of her face was gone,and she looked calm and composed. There was indeed a certain determinedexpression in her face that led the doctor to believe that she had by agreat effort conquered her fear of the ordeal to which she was to beexposed, and had nerved herself to go through it unflinchingly. As theyjourneyed in the train she asked him:

  "Shall we be in the court all the time, doctor?"

  "No, Ruth, I do not think you will be in court. I fancy the witnessesremain in a room together until they are wanted. I myself shall be incourt, as the solicitor for the defence is a personal friend of mine,and will give me a place at his table."

  "Do you think, sir, that after I have given my evidence they would letme stand there until it is done?"

  "I should hardly think so, Ruth, and I am sure it would be a very badthing for you."

  "I have a particular reason for wanting to be there, Dr. Arrowsmith, andto hear it to the end. A most particular reason. I can't tell you whatit is, but I must be there."

  The doctor looked at her in surprise.

  "You think you will not feel the suspense as much if you are in thecourt as you would outside Ruth? Is that what you mean?"

  "That's it, partly, sir. Anyhow, I feel that I must be there."

  "Very well, Ruth, if you see it in that way, I will do what I can foryou. I will ask Captain Hendricks to speak to the policemen in thecourt, and tell them to let you remain there after you have given yourevidence. There will be a great crowd, you know, and it will be veryclose, and altogether I think it is foolish and wrong of you."

  "I am sorry you think so, sir; but I do want to be there, whateverhappens to me afterwards."

  "Of course you can do as you like, Ruth; but the probability is that youwill faint before you have been there five minutes."

  "I will try not to, sir, and I don't think I shall. It is only when Iget a sudden shock that I faint, and I don't think I can get one there."