CHAPTER XIV
BETTY SIGGS DREAMS A DREAM
The girl rose slowly from the ground, after the two men haddisappeared, and, still sobbing heavily, made her way towards the doorwhich led to the upper part of the house. But her mother, brought toherself by the movement, advanced rapidly, and caught her in her arms.
“Child,” she said, in a sort of gasp—“this ain’t no time for callin’folks names, or talkin’ about rights and wrongs. Quick—what’s i’ thewind? I see Master Dandy a lookin’ in at that winder—straight at me;what’s i’ the wind, child—and w’ere have they gone?”
For some moments, Clara Siggs could not speak; her sobs seemed to shakeher from head to foot. But, after a little time, she grew more calm,and told what she knew.
“I saw him—looking in at the window; he beckoned to me. Then, when Islipped out to him, I was frightened at first, because he seemed soworn-looking, and so strange. But he kept saying, again and again, thathe wanted to see you—that he could not go away, without seeing you.And, in spite of all they have said, I could not believe, somehow, whenI looked into his eyes, that he could have done such a cruel and wickeddeed as that.” Here her sobs broke out afresh, so that Betty had muchado to comfort her.
“There, there—don’t cry, child,” she said. “Crying never mended anythink yet. Wot else did ’e say?”
“He asked who the man was with us; and, when I told him, he laughed,and said he would give him a run for his money, anyway.”
“Spoke like a Chater—that was!” cried Betty, with considerable pride.“Then wot ’appened?”
“Master Dandy said that as it wouldn’t be safe to see you, he wouldmake across the fields, so as to get clear of Bamberton, and walk onthe way to London. Then, as I was crying, he put his arm round myshoulders—indeed, indeed, there was no shame in it, mother dear—andtold me not to mind, for he would clear himself yet. And just at thatmoment, I heard a rustling in the hedge, and Harry jumped through.”
Toby Siggs looked long at his daughter; slowly shook his head; anddelivered himself of this piece of wisdom. “The good Lord, with thewillin’ ’elp of yer mother, made ye fair-lookin’ an’ put bright eyesinto your face; but neither the good Lord nor your mother meant as ’owthey should be a snare, or in any way deludin’. One lad is good enoughfor the best o’ gels. Go to bed—an’ think well on it!”
Clara, still sobbing, took her way slowly upstairs. For a long time,Toby Siggs and his wife sat in whispered conversation; Toby saying butlittle, but probably thinking the more. The shadow of that crime in thewood seemed to have fallen even on that quiet household; Betty Siggswatched the dying fire; and her mind travelled back, through the yearsto the farm in Australia, on the edge of the Bush, and to thebright-faced lad that cruel Bush had swallowed up, and snatched fromher. Old Toby Siggs knew the story; for, when first he had met her, shehad had to account for the presence of the child; but Toby was a silentman, and the lost boy was as far back in the mists of the dead years,as in the mists of Toby’s brain.
“It’s all been a muddle, Toby,” said Mrs. Siggs at last, still in thesame cautious whisper. “If the old Squire could only know what hashappened, I think ’e’d be a bit sorry ’e cast that boy loose, an’ tookup with the younger. Lor’, Toby—wot a boy ’e was!”
Toby nodded his head slowly. “Ah!” he ejaculated. “There ain’t noup-settin’ about me, or about you, ole gal; we knows ourselves forordinary folk. But that boy moved, and talked, and ’eld ’isself like agen’leman.”
“That ’e did!” replied Betty, with a vigorous nod. “Lor’, Toby—if ’e’d’ave bin at the ’All—we’d ’ave ’ad no talks about pore ruined gals; nopolicemen in the ’ouse—no ’untin’ an’ dodgin’ an’ ’idin’ like this.God knows ’ow it’s all goin’ to end, Toby.”
The house had been shut, so far as its public capacity was concerned,for some time. Knowing, however, that the Inspector must presently makehis appearance, and that, in any case, his bed was reserved for him,Mrs. Siggs and her husband sat on over the fire, each filled with sadthoughts, and ready, from the events of the evening, for anything whichcould happen.
Presently there came a heavy knock at the front door; Mrs. Siggs, witha hand on her ample bosom, started, and looked appealingly at Toby.That gentleman, rising with a determined countenance, proceeded to thedoor, and flung it open. Exactly what he was prepared to see, it isimpossible to say; but he was certainly not prepared for the sightwhich met his eyes.
Out of the darkness there staggered into the place a solitaryfigure—that of Inspector Tokely. His hat was gone—one side of hisface was grazed and bleeding; he was covered with mud and water almostfrom head to foot; and his coat was torn right across one shoulder.Gasping and weary, he shook a fist in the face of the astonished TobySiggs, and snapped out his wrath at that innocent man.
“You scoundrel!” he shouted—“You infernal villain! This is all aplot—a conspiracy—you know it is! I’m lured out of this place, and goracing and chasing across country—where there are no street lamps asthere ought to be, and no constables to whistle for. I bark my faceagainst a tree—put there on purpose, I’ve no doubt, for me to run myhead against; I fall into a ditch, which ought to have been drainedlong ago; I lose my hat, which cost nine-and-sixpence; I tear my coaton a barbed wire fence, which ought never to have been put up. And—tocrown it all—I lose my prisoner!”
Betty Siggs, who had come to the door of the little parlour, suddenlyclapped her hands and cried out—with an exclamation of so much relief,that the Inspector turned savagely upon her.
“Yes, Ma’am—laugh—giggle—clap your hands—scream with joy, Ma’am! Ilike it—it does me good! How will _you_ like it, when you appear inthe dock—the dock, Ma’am!—on a charge of aiding and abetting aprisoner, to escape? What about windows covered with curtains——”
“What would you ’ave ’em covered with?” retorted Betty, with alaugh—“wall paper?”
“Never mind, Ma’am—never mind,” retorted Tokely, viciously. “At thepresent moment, Ma’am, I will go to bed. The Law, Ma’am, can wait.Prepare yourself, Ma’am, for the dock—for the dock, I say!”
With these words, and utterly scornful of Betty Siggs’s peals oflaughter, the Inspector made his way upstairs to his chamber—leaving atrail of muddy water to mark his passage.
“That chap’s done me good!” exclaimed Betty, wiping her eyes, andturning to Toby, who was staring in ludicrous amazement after Tokely.“I just wanted summink to stir me up—I did—an’ that chap’s done it!”
“You take care, ole gal, that ’e don’t stir _you_ up,” retorted Toby,shaking his head. “The Law ’as got a ’eap be’ind it—an’ you ain’t gotthe figger to be redooced by skilly, nor the fingers for oakum-pickin’.An’, mark my words, that’s what you’ll come to, ole gal, if you mocksat the Law!”
Betty Siggs, however, was in too good a humour to heed any suchwarning; she gaily locked up the house, extinguished the lights andpushed Toby upstairs to bed. “Blow the Law!” she exclaimed, kissinghim—“You an’ me won’t sleep the less sound, because the Law ’as gotits face scratched, and lost its ’at—will we, Toby?”
Nevertheless, Betty’s prediction proved to be, so far as she wasconcerned, a false one; sleep refused to come to her, no matter how shewooed it. Living, as she always had done, a good brisk hard-workingblameless life, with a conscience as clear as her own healthy skin,Betty had known nothing of the terrors of insomnia; yet to-night, shelay blinking at the stars peeping in through the uncurtained window,thinking of many things—thinking most of all, perhaps, of the unhappyman flying for his life, hiding in ditches and under hedges, andtrembling at every sound. Betty’s tender heart melted a little when shethought of him, and she sadly cried herself into a state of quietexhaustion, and so fell into a troubled sleep.
And in that sleep she dreamed a dream. She was back again, in the olddays, in Australia, at Tallapoona Farm—the farm wh
ich had never paid,and from which that bright-faced boy Philip had wandered out onemorning, never to return. Yet the curious part of Betty’s dream wasthis; that, although the sights and sounds beyond the windows were asshe had known them over a quarter of a century ago, the house bore acurious resemblance to the Chater Arms; indeed, faces familiar to herlater days in Bamberton passed to and fro before the windows, and theslow Bamberton drawl was in her ears.
But, in her dream, night came swiftly on, and the place was indarkness. She thought she stood again in the little parlour alone; and,drawing back the curtain from before the window, looked out upon thesandy bridle-tracks, and wild vegetation which fringed the densergrowth beyond. Suddenly, out of this, and coming straight to thewindow, she saw the child, just as she had known him eighteen longyears before. So vivid was the dream, and so clearly did she see hisface, and recognise it, that—waking with a cry upon her lips—shefound herself out of bed, and standing on the floor, in the faint lightof the stars.
Betty Siggs was more troubled than ever. She looked round the room, asthough half expecting to see her dream realised; rubbed her eyes, andbegan to tremble a little. Toby’s regular breathing reassured hersomewhat; but still she felt uneasy. The window at which she had seenthe face of the man that night, in reality, and the dream-face of thechild, haunted her; she felt that she must go to it—must assureherself that there was nothing on the other side of it.
She threw a long cloak round her, noiselessly lit a candle, and creptout of the room. There was no sound anywhere, save the quick patter ofher own feet on the stairs, and the rapid scurry of a mouse flying fromthe light. Betty reached the parlour, set down her candle, and facedthe window, over which the curtain had been drawn again.
Now, under all the circumstances, it is probable that ninety-ninepeople out of a hundred would have hesitated, at that hour, to drawback that curtain; and the hundredth would have done it—if at all—outof sheer bravado. But the curious thing was, that Betty had no fear ofit at all; so completely was she dominated by her dream, and so muchdid she seem to be dreaming still, that she walked up to the curtain,and softly drew it aside.
Nor did she think it strange, under the circumstances, that there was aface upon the other side; for, although she believed she looked uponDandy Chater, somehow the dream face had got mixed up with it; thedream-eyes of the child she believed dead smiled at her, out of theface of the man. Still keeping her eyes upon the window, she slippedalong to the door and softly drew the bolt, and opened it; andthen—for no known reason, and yet for some reason which seemed strongwithin her—began to tremble very much, as though she faced somethinguncanny.
A figure moved towards the door, slipped into the room, and took her inhis arms. Not Dandy Chater—not the man with a price on his head, andblood on his cruel hands—not the man whose name was a by-word and areproach in all that countryside; but her boy—her dear lad, back fromhis grave thousands of miles away! You couldn’t have tried to deceiveold Betty Siggs at that moment; she knew that no other arms could holdher like that.
Then, when he called her—as he had done all those long yearsbefore—“little mother”—when he whispered, did she remember TallapoonaFarm, and the mare with the rat-tail, and Peter the sheep-dog—and adozen other things that would have stamped him as her boy, if nothingelse could have done; old Betty woke from her dream, and burst into aflood of tears, and laid her old grey head down on his shoulder.
Perhaps it was well that Toby was sleeping soundly above. For, if _he_had happened to dream, and had wandered, in his night apparel, down tothat same parlour, he would have been very properly scandalised. Forhere was the supposed Dandy Chater, sitting near the table, with BettySiggs—(hugging him mighty tight round the neck)—on his knee—thewhile he rapidly sketched out all that happened in those eighteen years.
“Ah—little mother—little mother!” he said, drawing her face down,that he might kiss it—“You didn’t know to whom you were talking, whenI strolled in here the other day, and you read me a lecture on the sinsof Dandy Chater. It’s been a long time, little mother; picked up, moredead than alive, by an exploring party in the Bush; taken with themmiles into the interior; then more miles, by a party bound for theWest, with whom they came in contact. Then, five or six years of lifewith a dear old couple, who had no chicks of their own, and were fondof the friendless boy thrown on their hands. Then, when I could, I wentback to Tallapoona—only to find that you had gone to England—no oneexactly knew where.”
“An’ you kep’ a thought of me all those years—did you, Phil?”whispered the old woman, proudly.
“Yes—and came back to you as soon as I could. At least—not to you,because I didn’t know where you were. But I remembered the story youhad told me; and I knew I had the right to the place which had been myfather’s. But I would not have turned out my brother; my idea was thatwe might live together peaceably, sharing what there was. But he isdead.”
She looked round at him, with a startled face; and he realised, in amoment, that he had given her the clue to the whole mystery. Therefore,with much pains and many pauses to allow her to fully digest theextraordinary story, he told her of the whole business; of his arrivalin England—of his discovery of the strange likeness between himselfand the real Dandy Chater; and of his determination, on discoveringthat his brother was dead, to trade upon it. Of his certainty that hisbrother had been murdered; and of the impossibility of fixing the crimeupon any one’s shoulders.
But Betty Siggs saw only with the limited vision of love; knew onlythat her boy was with her again, and that he was innocent of the crimeshe had unconsciously laid to his charge.
“Lor’—this’ll be news for Toby!” she cried; “this’ll be something tolaugh at in the village; that they’ve taken my boy for Dandy Chater,and called him names, and ’unted ’im with perlice and sich like——”
“Stop—stop!” he cried, hurriedly. “Not a word of this to a soul,little mother—not a word. Don’t you see the position in which I stand?My brother is dead; I have upon me, at the present moment, his clothes,his papers—his valuables. Good God, little mother—I’ve traded on hisname, and on his appearance; I’m mixed up in I know not what shadythings concerning him. Turn to any living soul about hereto-night—save yourself—and tell my story. They will laugh you toscorn; will deride your boy, who’s come back from the grave. Don’t yousee that their first question would naturally be—‘If you are not DandyChater—you who wear his clothes, and use his name, and hide by night,because of his sins—if you are not the man, where is he?’ And, Heavenhelp me—what am I to answer them?”
Betty Siggs seemed altogether nonplussed, and could only shake herhead. Philip, with his arm about her, did his best to cheer her upagain.
“Come—you mustn’t be down-hearted; I’ll pull through, somehow orother,” he said. “But, for the time, I must keep out of the way. Everyday I’m getting nearer to the truth about my brother’s death; every dayI seem to see my way more clearly. But I don’t want to be accused ofhis murder—for they might say, with perfect justice, that I murderedhim, the better to take his place. No—I want to track down the realman; when that time comes, I’ll call on you to speak. Until then, youmust be silent as the grave.”
“I can’t—I can’t!” cried Betty Siggs. “Is my dear boy to come back tome, after all these years—and am I to see ’im ’unted an’ drove likethis ’ere, by a mere common Tokely—an’ say nothink? Not me!” BettySiggs folded her arms, and nodded her head with much determination.
“Little mother—little mother!” he exclaimed—“do you want to ruin me?Do you want to undo all that I have tried so hard to bring about? ShallI tell you something more?—something to be hidden deep in that goodheart of yours, and never breathed to any one? Betty—you don’t mind mycalling you Betty—do you?—have you ever been in love?”
“P’raps you’d like to ask Toby, as is a snorin’ ’is ’ead off upstairsthis very minute,” retorted Mrs. Siggs, with a very becoming blush. “Inlove, in
deed!”
“Well then, you will understand my difficulty. _I’m_ in love, littlemother—and with the sweetest girl in all the world. But even in that,my ill-luck dogs me; for she believes that her lover is Dandy Chater,whom she has known for years; if she once heard that she had whisperedher words of love and tenderness and sympathy to a stranger—do youthink that she would look at me again? Little mother—it’s the maddestthing in the world; because, if she has any regard for me as DandyChater, she knows me for everything that’s bad and vile—food only forthe common hangman; while, on the other hand, as Philip Chater I am astranger, and farther from her than ever. In any case, it is hopeless;yet, knowing that whatever sympathy she has is given to Dandy Chater,I’ll be Dandy Chater to the end—whatever that end may be. And evenyou, little mother, shall not change that purpose. So don’t talk aboutit.”
She recognised—however unwillingly—that what he said was true;although she cried a little—partly for love of him, partly in terrorat his danger—she yet was comforted by the feeling that all the sadyears of mourning were swept away, and that the boy she had reared andloved had fulfilled her most sanguine expectations and had grown to themanhood she had pictured for him.
He got up, and took her tenderly in his arms again, to say good-bye.“It won’t be long, little mother,” he said, “before I come again toyou, and take my place in my father’s home. But, for the present, Iwant you to swear to me—to swear to me on something you lovewell—that you will not betray my secret. Betty—for the love of yourboy—swear to me that you will not betray me—will not take from me thelove of the woman who is more to me than anything else in the wideworld. Swear to me!”
With tears in her honest old eyes, she drew his head down, and kissedhim. “I’ll swear to you, Phil,” she said—“by that!”
He ran out into the darkness, and left her standing, in the light ofthe candle, in the little parlour.