CHAPTER XXVIII
The little jockey had ridden his last race!
The blow which had struck him down had been delivered by one who hadbeen a first-class athlete, and who was still in splendid physicalcondition. There had been the stark madness, too, of blind rage behindBennet's arm, and the blow had proved fatal.
When the truth was known, there instantly was a great commotion. Bennetmade no effort to get away; if he had attempted to fly he would not havesucceeded, for he was ringed round by hostile and stern faces thatplainly spoke of vengeance. In a moment more hands were laid upon him bythose of the crowd nearest him, but he offered no resistance. Instead,he stood staring at the motionless body of his victim, and appeared notto realize what he had done, and the position in which his act hadplaced him.
Suddenly from somewhere in the crowd a loud cry went up of "Murder!Murder!"
The cry seemed to break the fit of stupor in which Bennet was, for hisface was seen to quiver, while a shudder shook his frame.
"What have I done? What have I done?" he said, as if he had just becomeconscious of the deed he had committed.
"You have killed him," replied one of those standing by.
"He is not dead?" asked Bennet, wildly.
"Dead! yes; he is dead, and you killed him!" answered the same man.
"I never meant to kill him," said Bennet, looking once more at thelittle figure that lay on the ground.
"Why," said a voice, "I heard you say to him, 'I'll kill you!'--I heardyou say those very words!"
"I was in a passion," Bennet declared, "and did not know what I wasdoing. I never thought of killing him."
"Then why did you say to him--I heard the words distinctly--'I'll killyou'?"
But Bennet made no reply. He now comprehended fully the position inwhich he stood, and he thought silence his best policy. Those about him,however, were far from silent. He could not help hearing what was beingsaid, and he understood that nothing but detestation and execration werebeing expressed. The crowd had no sympathy whatever for him. On thecontrary, had the crowd not been composed of Englishmen, accustomed toabide by the law of the land, Bennet would have been given a shortshrift. If what he had done had been perpetrated in America, he wouldundoubtedly have been immediately lynched out of hand. But the crowdwaited for the police to come upon the scene.
The crowd, however, talked excitedly, vehemently. The words which hadpassed between Bennet and the jockey were repeated from lip to lip. Thestatement of Bob Deans that Bennet had tried to bribe him to pull GoNap, and that he had refused to do so, was soon known to all; in theminds of most was the thought that Bennet, in suggesting this course tothe jockey, was guilty of a crime even greater perhaps than murder, andthat no punishment was too heavy for it. Many of them would havemaintained that hanging was too good for him; some of them even said so.
Presently the police came up, and Bennet was arrested and charged withthe murder of Bob Deans.
The affair, as was to be expected, made a tremendous sensation, not onlythroughout the world of the turf, but everywhere.
At Doncaster itself reports of what had taken place spread like wildfirethrough the place; nothing else was talked of, and but little interestwas taken in the remaining races on the programme that afternoon.
In the whole history of racing never had there been anything soextraordinary.
The popular victory of Go Nap, the murder of the victorious jockey bythe owner of the horse, the revelation which had been given by theunfortunate Deans of the reason why Bennet had killed him,--these andother particulars, which grew and grew as they passed from mouth tomouth, formed as sensational a set of incidents as could well beimagined. Brief but lurid accounts of what had occurred at Doncasterappeared in the London evening papers the same day, and caused thegreatest excitement.
Gilbert Eversleigh, walking about seven o'clock from the Temple to hisclub for dinner, his mind occupied and distressed by the difficultproblem of how his father was to escape ruin, received his firstintimation of the tragedy from the placard of one of these journals. Inlarge, solid black letters he read--
"VICTORY OF GO NAP AT DONCASTER. MURDER OF ITS JOCKEY, BOB DEANS, BY ITS OWNER, HENRY BENNET."
"What new calamity is this?" he asked himself, as his thoughts flew toKitty. As soon as possible, he procured all the evening papers and read,with feverish haste, their narratives of the terrible event, from whichthe main facts stood out clearly enough.
"What will happen next?" he cried in his heart, overcome with amazementand horror.
Owing to its being the holiday season of the year, there were but fewmen at the Club when Gilbert reached it, but such as were there wereconversing about the murder. Bennet was well known to several of them;it was recalled that he was a Varsity oar, but what was principallytalked of was his monstrous passion for gambling, which it was guessedwas responsible for his present terrible situation. Gilbert listened,but took only a small part in the conversation; it was an immense reliefto him to find no reference was made by anybody to Bennet's engagementto Kitty. He hoped it might be possible to keep the girl's name out ofthe business altogether, but in this he was speedily disappointed.
Next morning the papers were full of the affair. Descriptions of whathad taken place at Doncaster were given the utmost prominence, andnothing was left untold that could be put together about Bennet in ashort space of time. What was known of his career was published; andamongst other things mention was made of his recent engagement to MissKitty Thornton, daughter of the man whose body had been found a fewweeks ago in such strange circumstances in the rooms of the late Mr.Cooper Silwood, and much sympathy was expressed for her. This was thefirst public announcement of Kitty's engagement to Bennet, and Gilbert,who noticed it with the greatest pain, wondered how this piece of newshad been conveyed to the Press. He could not know that Joel Levy, thebig money-lender, had talked about it among his friends, through whom ithad got to the ears of the reporters.
The same morning, that is the morning after the death of Bob Deans,Kitty saw a long account of it in the columns of the Yorkshire paperthat was delivered every morning at Buckhurst House. Prior to readingthis statement, Kitty had deemed herself as unhappy as it was possiblefor any one to be, but when she knew what had happened, she was plungedinto deeper misery still. Bennet a murderer, and she engaged to him! Itwas the last unkindest stroke of fortune. And yet while she was sorryfor herself, and much as she detested Bennet, she could not help feelingsorry for him. It did not at first occur to her that he had, by his rashact, if not crime, put an end, in all probability, to their engagement.When that thought did come, as it was bound to come, she drearilyspeculated what the wretched man in his despair would do; in otherwords, she feared that the bargain she had entered into with Bennet forthe salvation of the Eversleighs was a bargain which in these newcircumstances he would not keep.
The papers had announced an inquest was to be held that day, and sheawaited the verdict with sickening apprehension. And what might therenot appear in these journals in addition to the account of the inquest?Of course, she told herself, it was quite improbable that Bennet wouldsay anything about the Eversleigh matter at the inquest; but what mighthe not say, might he not already have said, to others--to the police,for instance? She was not long left in doubt as to the line Bennetintended to take.
The inquest was held in a crowded court which was entirely hostile toBennet. And that the jury took the darkest view of Bennet's action soonwas manifest. A local solicitor, called Deakin, had been retained forhim, and he did his best to get a verdict of manslaughter returned, buteven if the evidence had been less convincing than it was, the generalfeeling would still have been too strong for him.
There were plenty of witnesses who agreed, with only small verbaldiscrepancies which are always a feature of such cases, and confirmrather than detract from the value of the main volume of testimony, asto what had passed between Bennet and Bob Deans. The words used by thetwo men were quoted by several witnesse
s with substantial accuracy;particularly the threat of Bennet to the jockey, "I'll kill you!" wasbrought forward by them all, and practically settled in the minds ofcoroner and jury the degree of Bennet's guilt.
Bennet, they concluded, had intended killing Bob Deans, and had killedhim. The cause of the murder made Bennet's crime blacker and blackerstill.
His solicitor tried to show there had not been, there could not be, anypremeditation on Bennet's part, and that the deed was done in the heatof passion without there being any real intention to kill the man. Heurged that the death of the jockey was of the nature of an accident; hisclient had certainly struck the blow, but could not know it was likelyto be fatal. The most and worst Bennet was guilty of, Deakin contended,was manslaughter.
But the jury were of another mind. Without retiring to consider theirverdict, they at once found Bennet guilty of the wilful murder of thejockey.
It was a verdict which met with general approval. The coroner, inaccepting it, said the case was one of the most painful nature, but asit would doubtless form matter for the consideration of a higher court,he would make no further comment upon it.
Like hundreds of thousands of people who were following this dark storyof the turf with the most absorbing interest, both Kitty and Gilbert sawthe finding of the jury, and later that Bennet had been committed fortrial at the next assizes on the capital charge. Kitty, wonderingmiserably what Bennet would do, thereafter received from him a letter,in which he asked her to visit him in prison without delay. By this timehe had been removed from Doncaster to York, and thither Kitty went,accompanied by her relative, Mrs. Joicey, that very day, though it wasnot until the next that she saw him.
Prison life had already told on Bennet, and she observed a marked changein his appearance, which filled her with pity; but the man was in ablack, reckless, defiant humour, as she soon noticed; even the nearpresence of a warder did not deter him from expressing what was in hismind.
"I'm very, very sorry for you, Harry," she said, and there was the soundof tears in her voice. It was the first time, too, since theirengagement that she had called him "Harry."
"Sorry!" he cried. "Do you think I believe that? Don't be a hypocrite.You are glad, you must be glad of my misfortune. You think it will setyou free!"
"Oh, Harry, do not think of me; think of yourself!"
"Think of myself!" said Bennet, fiercely, implacably. "Can I not thinkof myself and of others too?"
The girl involuntarily shrank from him.
"Oh, Harry, Harry!" she said piteously.
"I sent for you," Bennet went on without heeding her appeal, "to tellyou that I will not release you. I do not believe that I shall be foundguilty of murder--it was no murder, and I shall not release you fromyour engagement to me. But if I am found guilty, you may be sure I shallnot go out of the world without letting it know the truth about FrancisEversleigh. There! That is all! And now you can go."
"Harry, Harry!" cried Kitty; "how can I touch your heart?"
"Touch my heart! The day has gone past for that. Now go--and go at once;the sight of you is torture. Go!"