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  CHAPTER XII

  GOOD MEN AND TRUE

  Copplestone saw little of his bed that night. At seven o'clock in theevening came a telegram from Sir Cresswell Oliver, saying that he andPetherton were leaving at once, would reach Norcaster soon aftermidnight, and would motor out to Scarhaven immediately on arrival.Copplestone made all arrangements for their reception, and aftersnatching a couple of hours' sleep was up to receive them. By two o'clockin the morning Sir Cresswell and the old solicitor and Gilling--smuggledinto their sitting-room--had heard all he had to tell about ZacharySpurge and his story.

  "We must have that fellow at the inquest," said Petherton. "At any costwe must have him! That's flat!"

  "You think it wise?" asked Sir Cresswell. "Won't it be a bit previous?Wouldn't it be better to wait until we know more?"

  "No--we must have his evidence," declared Petherton. "It will serve as anopening. Besides, this inquest will have to be adjourned--I shall ask forthat. No--Spurge must be produced."

  "If Spurge comes into Scarhaven," observed Copplestone, "he'll bepromptly collared by the police. They want him for poaching."

  "Then they can get him when the proceedings are over," retorted the oldlawyer, dryly. "They daren't touch him while he's giving evidence andthat's all we want. Perhaps he won't come?--Oh he'll come all right ifwe make it worth his while. A month in Norcaster gaol will mean nothingto him if he knows there's a chance of that reward or somethingsubstantial out of it at the end of his sentence. You must go out tothis retreat of his and bring him in--we must have him. Better go veryearly in the morning.

  "I'll go now," said Copplestone. "It's as easy to go by night as by day."He left the other three to seek their beds, and himself slipped quietlyout of the hotel by one of the ground-floor windows and set off in apitch-black night to seek Spurge in his lair. And after sundry barkingsof his shins against the rocks and scratchings of his hands and cheeks bythe undergrowth of Hobkin's Hole he rounded the poacher out and deliveredhis message.

  Spurge, blinking at his visitor in the pale light of a guttering candle,shook his head.

  "I'll come, guv'nor," he said. "Of course. I'll come--and I'll trust toluck to get away, and it don't matter a deal if the luck's agen me--I'vedone a month in Norcaster before today, and it ain't half a badrest-cure, if you only take it that way. But guv'nor--that old lawyer'smaking a mistake! You didn't ought to have my bit of evidence at thisstage. It's too soon. You want to work up the case a bit. There's such athing, guv'nor, in this world as being a bit previous. This here's tooprevious--you want to be surer of your facts. Because you know, guv'nornobody'll believe my word agen Squire Greyle's. Guv'nor--this hereinquest'll be naught but a blooming farce! Mark me! You ain't a native o'this part--I am. D'you think as how a Scarhaven jury's going to say aughtagen its own Squire and landlord? Not it! I say, guv'nor--all a bloomingfarce! Mark my words!"

  "All the same, you'll come?" asked Copplestone, who was secretly ofSpurge's opinion. "You won't lose by it in the long run."

  "Oh, I'll be there," responded Spurge. "Out of curiosity, if for nothingelse. You mayn't see me at first, but, let the lawyer from London call myname out, and Zachary Spurge'll step forward."

  There was abundant cover for Zachary Spurge and for half-a-dozen like himin the village school-house when the inquest was opened at ten o'clockthat morning. It seemed to Copplestone that it would have been a physicalimpossibility to crowd more people within the walls than had assembledwhen the coroner, a local solicitor, who was obviously testy, irritable,self-important and afflicted with deafness, took his seat and lookedsourly on the crowd of faces. Copplestone had already seen him inconversation with the village doctor, the village police, Chatfield, andMarston Greyle's solicitor, and he began to see the force of Spurge'sshrewd remarks. What, of course, was most desired was secrecy andprivacy--the Scarhaven powers had no wish that the attention of all theworld should be drawn to this quiet place. But outsiders were there inplenty. Stafford and several members of Bassett Oliver's company hadmotored over from Norcaster and had succeeded in getting good places:there were half-a-dozen reporters from Norcaster and Northborough, andplain-clothes police from both towns. And there, too, were all theprincipal folk of the neighbourhood, and Mrs. Greyle and her daughter,and, a little distance from Audrey, alert and keenly interested, wasAddie Chatfield.

  It needed very little insight or observation on the part of anintelligent spectator to see how things were going. The twelve good menand true, required under the provisions of the old statute to form ajury, were all of them either Scarhaven tradesmen or Scarhavenhouseholders or labourers on the estate. Their countenances, as they tooktheir seats under the foremanship of a man whom Copplestone already knewas Chatfield's under-steward, showed plainly that they regarded the wholething as a necessary formality and that they were already prepared with averdict. This impression was strengthened by the coroner's openingremarks. In his opinion, the whole affair--to which he did not even referas unfortunate--was easily and quickly explained and understood. Thedeceased had come to the village to look round--on a Sunday be itobserved--had somehow obtained access to the Keep, where, the ruins beingstrictly private and not open to the public on any consideration onSunday, he had no right to be; had indulged his curiosity by climbing tothe top of the ancient tower and had paid for it by falling down fromthat terrible height and breaking his neck. All that was necessary wasfor them to hear evidence bearing out these facts--after which they wouldreturn a verdict in accordance with what they had heard. Very fortunatelythe facts were plain, and it would not be necessary to call manywitnesses.

  Sir Cresswell Oliver turned to Copplestone who sat at one side of him,while Petherton sat on the other.

  "I don't know if you notice that Greyle isn't here?" he whispered grimly."In my opinion, he doesn't intend to show! We'll see!"

  Certainly the Squire was not in the place. And there were soon signs thatthose who conducted the proceedings evidently did not consider hispresence necessary. The witnesses were few; their examinations wasperfunctory; they were out of the extemporised witness-box as soon asthey were in it. Sir Cresswell Oliver--to give formal identification.Mrs. Wooler--to prove that the deceased man came to her house. One of theforemen of the estate--to prove the great care with which the Squire hadsearched for traces of the missing man. One of the estate labourers--toprove the actual finding of the body. The doctor--to prove, beyond alldoubt, that the deceased had broken his neck.

  The coroner, an elderly man, obviously well satisfied with the trend ofthings, took off his spectacles and turned to the jury.

  "You have heard everything there is to be heard, gentlemen," said he. "AsI remarked at the opening of this inquest, the case is one of greatsimplicity. You will have no difficulty in deciding that the deceasedcame to his death by accident--as to the exact wording of your verdict,you had better put it in this way:--that the deceased Bassett Oliver diedas the result--"

  Petherton, who, noticing the coroner's deafness, had contrived to seathimself as close to his chair of office as possible, quietly rose.

  "Before the jury consider any verdict," he said in his loudest tones,"they must hear certain evidence which I wish to call. And first ofall--is Mr. Marston Greyle present in this room?"

  The coroner frowned, and the Squire's solicitor turned to Petherton.

  "Mr. Greyle is not present," he said. "He is not at all well. There is noneed for his presence--he has no evidence to give."

  "If you don't have Mr. Greyle down here at once," said Petherton,quietly, "this inquest will have to be adjourned for his attendance.You had better send for him--or I'll get the authorities to do so. Inthe meantime, we'll call one or two witnesses,--Daniel Ewbank!--tobegin with."

  There was a brief and evidently anxious consultation between Greyle'ssolicitor and the coroner; there were dark looks at Petherton and hiscompanions. Then the foreman of the jury spoke, sullenly.

  "We don't want to hear no Ewbanks!" he said. "We're quite satisfied, usas sits
here. Our verdict is--"

  "You'll have to bear Ewbank and anybody I like to call, my good sir,"retorted Petherton quietly. "I am better acquainted with the law than youare." He turned to the coroner's officer. "I warned you this morning toproduce Ewbank," he said. "Now, where is he?"

  Out of a deep silence a shrill voice came from the rear of the crowd.

  "Knows better than to be here, does Dan'l Ewbank, mister! He's off!"

  "Very good--or bad--for somebody," remarked Petherton, quietly."Then--until Mr. Marston Greyle comes--we will call Zachary Spurge."

  The assemblage, jurymen included, broke into derisive laughter as Spurgesuddenly appeared from the most densely packed corner of the room, and itwas at once evident to Copplestone that whatever the poacher might say,no one there would attach any importance to it. The laughter continuedand increased while Spurge was under examination. Petherton appealed tothe coroner; the coroner affected not to hear. And once more the foremanof the jury interrupted.

  "We don't want to hear no more o' this stuff!" he said. "It's an insultto us to put a fellow like that before us. We don't believe a word o'what he says. We don't believe he was within a mile o' them ruins onSunday afternoon. It's all a put-up job!"

  Petherton leaned towards the reporters.

  "I hope you gentlemen of the press will make a full note of theseproceedings," he observed suavely. "You at any rate are not biassed orprejudiced."

  The coroner heard that in spite of his deafness, and he grew purple.

  "Sir!" he exclaimed. "That is a most improper observation! It's areflection on my position, sir, and I've a great mind--"

  "Mr. Coroner," observed Petherton, leaning towards him, "I shall hand ina full report concerning your conduct of these proceedings to the HomeOffice tomorrow. If you attempt to interfere with my duty here, all theworse for you. Now, Spurge, you can stand down. And as I see Mr. Greylethere--call Marston Greyle!"

  The Squire had appeared while Spurge was giving his evidence, and hadheard what the poacher alleged. He entered the box very pale, angry, anddisturbed, and the glances which he cast on Sir Cresswell Oliver and hisparty were distinctly those of displeasure.

  "Swear him!" commanded Petherton. "Now, Mr. Greyle--"

  But Greyle's own solicitor was on his legs, insisting on his right to puta first question. In spite of Petherton, he put it.

  "You heard the evidence of the last witness?--Spurge. Is there a word oftruth in it?"

  Marston Greyle--who certainly looked very unwell--moistened his lips.

  "Not one word!" he answered. "It's a lie!"

  The solicitor glanced triumphantly at the Coroner and the jury, and thecrowd raised unchecked murmurs of approval. Again the foreman endeavouredto stop the proceedings.

  "We regard all this here as very rude conduct to Mr. Greyle," he saidangrily. "We're not concerned--"

  "Mr. Foreman!" said Petherton. "You are a foolish man--you areinterfering with justice. Be warned!--I warn you, if the Coroner doesn't.Mr. Greyle, I must ask you certain questions. Did you see the deceasedBassett Oliver on Sunday last?"

  "No!"

  "I needn't remind you that you are on your oath. Have you ever met thedeceased man in your life?"

  "Never!"

  "You never met him in America?"

  "I may have met him--but not to my recollection. If I did, it was in sucha casual fashion that I have completely forgotten all about it."

  "Very well--you are on your oath, mind. Where did you live in America,before you succeeded to this estate?"

  The Squire's solicitor intervened.

  "Don't answer that question!" he said sharply. "Don't answer any more. Iobject altogether to your line," he went on, angrily, turning toPetherton. "I claim the Coroner's protection for the witness."

  "I quite agree," said the Coroner. "All this is absolutely irrelevant.You can stand down," he continued, turning to the Squire. "I will have nomore of this--and I will take the full responsibility!"

  "And the consequences, Mr. Coroner," replied Petherton calmly. "And thefirst consequence is that I now formally demand an adjournment of thisinquest, _sine die_."

  "On what grounds, sir?" demanded the Coroner.

  "To permit me to bring evidence from America," replied Petherton, with aside glance at Marston Greyle. "Evidence already being prepared."

  The Coroner hesitated, looked at Greyle's solicitor, and then turnedsharply to the jury.

  "I refuse that application!" he said. "You have heard all I have to say,gentlemen," he went on, "and you can return your verdict."

  Petherton quietly gathered up his papers and motioned to his friends tofollow him out of the schoolroom. The foreman of the jury was returning averdict of accidental death as they passed through the door, and theyemerged into the street to an accompaniment of loud cheers for the Squireand groans for themselves.

  "What a travesty of justice!" exclaimed Sir Cresswell. "That fellowSpurge was right, you see, Copplestone. I wish we hadn't brought himinto danger."

  Copplestone suddenly laughed and touched Sir Cresswell's arm. He pointedto the edge of the moorland just outside the school-yard. Spurge wasdisappearing over that edge, and in a moment had vanished.