CHAPTER XI

"THOU ART THE MAN"

The two men looked at the ear-ring, Slade with triumph, Johnson with dismay. There was no doubt it belonged to Miss Arnott. He had frequently seen her wearing it; and he asked himself how it came to be found on the spot where the body had lain. Miss Arnott's declaration that Tera had wrenched the ear-ring from her ear, and had carried it away, might be a mere fiction. Carried away as she was by her feelings, it was impossible to rely upon what she said. If her statement were untrue, the discovery of the ornament on the scene of the crime went to show that Miss Arnott had been on the spot, and there, perhaps during a struggle with her victim, had lost the ear-ring. In a word, this piece of evidence inculpated her somewhat seriously. Remembering her agitation and strange remarks, Johnson began to think that she had committed the murder out of jealousy. It was very feasible. The more he thought of it the more likely it seemed. But the minister determined to keep his suspicions to himself. It was not for him, on whose account she had sinned--if she had sinned--to denounce her. It was for his sake she had broken that terrible sixth commandment. Therefore he judged it right, if not righteous, to deny all knowledge of the ornament.

"Have you seen this before, sir?" asked Slade, keeping a watchful eye on the face of the minister.

"No," answered Johnson, with an effort to appear calm, "I never saw it before. It does not belong to Bithiah. She wore no ornaments in her ears."

"Then it must be the property of some other woman--probably the woman who killed her, Mr. Johnson."

"How do you know a woman killed her?"

"This ear-ring points that way, anyhow. I expect the two women met and quarrelled about something or some one. Perhaps they came to blows; or perhaps, while the murderess was trying to strangle your girl, she had this torn from her ear. But it's evident that a woman's mixed up in the matter." Slade paused and looked again at the ornament. "It's a gipsy ear-ring," said he.

"How do you know, Slade?"

The policeman scratched his head in some embarrassment. "A flat circle of gold it is, ain't it? Well, sir, I've seen a gipsy woman wearing things of this sort."

"Zara Lovell, for instance?" observed Johnson, with sudden inspiration.

"Zara Lovell!" stammered Slade, retreating a step and looking anything but comfortable. "What do you know of her, Mr. Johnson?"

"Only so much as I learned from Lee."

"Lee! Pharaoh Lee, the gipsy? Have you seen him?"

"I was speaking with him a quarter of an hour before I met you, Slade. He is looking for Zara."

"Is she lost, then?"

"It would seem so. Pharaoh was to have married her; but she told him that she was already married to some one in this neighbourhood. Then she ran away from the gipsy camp. Thinking she came on here to her husband--whoever he is--Lee followed, and he is now looking for her. Slade," said Johnson, gravely, "the gipsy declared that either you or Mr. Mayne must be the husband of this girl."

Slade changed from red to white, and evaded the minister's eye. "I knew Zara well enough a year ago," he said, doggedly, "and we had a liking for one another; but as to marriage, that never came into my mind. I have a wife now--the only one I ever had--and if she hears this tale, Lord knows what she'll do. She's never done talking of Zara as it is."

"Well, and Mr. Mayne?"

"Oh, he liked Zara too; but I don't think he intended to marry her. Why, he's set on marryin' Miss Carwell."

"Who else is there, that you know the girl was intimate with?"

The policeman reflectively slipped the ear-ring into his pocket, and began to think. Suddenly he started and slapped his thigh. "Why didn't I think of him before?" he cried. "Finland--it's Finland, of course."

"Nonsense!" said the minister, somewhat sharply, for the mention of the sailor made him wince. "Finland was in love with Bithiah and--What is the matter?"

He asked this question with some astonishment, for Slade, with uncouth glee, was performing a kind of war-dance. "Lord!" he said, joyfully, "how plain it all is!"

"How plain what is?"

"The murder, of course. It was a woman killed Bithiah, or Tera, or whatever you call her. That's pretty conclusive. Well, the woman was Zara."

"What! the gipsy girl Pharaoh is looking for?"

"Oh, he's looking for her," said Slade, gleefully, "but he won't find her. She's made herself scarce because of this murder. This ear-ring is Zara's. I know now, Mr. Johnson; I saw a pair of 'em in her ears. Finland made love to Zara last year, and she was dead gone on him. I expect she heard of his goings on with your girl, and came back to make things hot. I don't know if Finland married her, but if he did, Zara hurried back here to claim him as her husband. I dare say she met Tera here in this field, and they fought over the man. Tera tore the ear-ring from Zara while she was being strangled. Then Zara hid the body in this field, and ran away. It's as clear as day," and Slade danced again; "I'll get to Poldew, sure enough!"

Knowing well to whom the ear-ring belonged, the minister could not believe in Zara's guilt. But without compromising Miss Arnott, Slade's theory was not to be demolished. The best he could do was to protest against it as being too fanciful.

"Why, you have more reason to suspect me," he declared.

"True enough," replied Slade, "but circumstanshal evidence ain't good stuff--though I admit I'm going on it a lot in suspecting Zara."

"The poor girl was strangled with my window----"

"I know all about that," interrupted the policeman. "I soon found that out. But it don't prove as you took the cord yourself. I always had my doubts, seeing it was taken two or three days afore the murder. You wouldn't have made ready all that time. I says to myself, 'If he killed the girl, he did it in a rage, so he wouldn't have prepared the cord beforehand.'"

"I did not kill Tera," protested Johnson, vehemently. "I never saw her after she left my house, although I searched for her round this field, knowing it was her favourite walk. I loved her too well to injure a hair of her head. As to my debts--and you suspected, no doubt, that it was to pay them I killed her--they have been discharged."

"Who paid 'em?"

"There is no harm in telling you that, Slade. But promise me to keep what I tell you a secret until I bid you speak."

Filled with curiosity, Slade gave the required promise. When informed that Miss Arnott was Johnson's benefactor, he chuckled so significantly as to bring a blush to the pale cheeks of the minister. Nevertheless--and this was the main point--he entertained no suspicion against the woman; and still harped on the probability of Zara's guilt. "For she might have stolen the cord from your study," said he, eagerly; "them gipsies are always stealing things."

"Zara was never in my house that I know of," replied Johnson, dryly.

This declaration rather disconcerted Slade, but he rallied under the blow when a new idea struck him.

"I dare say that Tera herself took the cord, being a bright pretty thing."

"Why should she?"

"Why shouldn't she?" retorted Slade; "it's as broad as it's long. Talk as you like, sir, it's in my mind as Zara killed Tera and stole them pearls."

Johnson reflected. This last remark set him thinking as to the advisability of telling Slade about Shackel's proposed blackmail. The man seemed intelligent and trustworthy, and an ally would be invaluable, if only to protect him from the machinations of Captain Jacob. Forthwith, Johnson related to Slade the dilemma in which he was placed, and asked for the policeman's advice and help. "For I swear," said he, with all earnestness, "that while in London I did not go near Hatton Gardens. But how am I to prove that?"

"'Tain't difficult," answered Slade; "you give me a couple of pounds and let me go up to London. I'll find out from the Jew who sold them pearls."

"Can you get leave?" asked Johnson, catching at the idea.

"Oh yes, for a couple of days or thereabouts."

"Then you go, and hard-up as I am, you shall have five pounds for your expenses and trouble. But who did you think sold the pearls? It could not have been Zara, seeing that the seller was a man."

"I'll tell you what I think when I come back," said Slade, doubtfully. "Let us go to your house, sir, and get the money. If that captain comes again to you, just tell him as the matter is in the hands of the police; you won't have no trouble with him after that, I'll bet."

Subsequent events proved Slade to be correct. Johnson gave him the five pounds, and, having obtained leave for forty-eight hours, the man took train to London with the address of the Jew in his pocket. The day after his departure Shackel made his appearance, in the full belief that Johnson would pay him the sum he had demanded. When the minister referred him to the police, Captain Jacob was considerably taken aback by his victim's daring. He protested loudly.

"Told the police, have yer?" he snarled; "well, I guess I don't want any of that kind messing up my business. You'd better straighten out things, my son, and pay me."

"I shall not pay you one penny," answered Johnson, gaining courage at the man's manifest desire to retreat. "The matter lies with the police now. If you trouble me any more, I shall give you in charge."

Captain Jacob's one eye twinkled in a very evil fashion, and he grew as red as his jaundiced complexion would permit. "You'll jail me, will yer?" he piped shrilly; "I reckon two can play at that game, you scare-crow, psalm-singing, bun-faced----"

"Another word of that sort, and out you go!" said the minister, with spirit.

But Shackel was not to be silenced. Like all sea captains, he was accustomed to implicit obedience, and thought to get his own way by the adoption of a bullying tone. But Johnson was not one of his sailors, and moreover the vituperative insolence of the little scoundrel had roused him. So when Captain Jacob still proceeded to hector, the minister picked him up--he was of no great weight--and, carrying him out of the window, dropped him over the gate.

"There, you foul-mouthed extortioner," said Johnson, loudly, "that is your place! Come back here again, and I'll hand you over to the police."

"By thunder, I'll see the police myself!" replied Shackel, dusting his clothes. "You'll be in jail afore to-night, my son. Ay! and I'll come and see ye dance on nothing with a hempen cravat round your darned neck. I----"

Johnson waited to hear no more, but retired into his house, and left the mariner cursing the empty air until he grew weary and took himself off. The minister quite expected that the spiteful little creature would denounce him to the police as the seller of the pearls, and he was prepared to be arrested at any hour. But either Shackel was not very sure of his ground, or was afraid to come himself in contact with the law, of which he had a holy horror. He skulked back to the schooner without fulfilling his threats, and so far as he was concerned Johnson remained in peace. The blow was not to come from Shackel.

That same evening, Johnson, in his character of pastor, attended at Bethgamul. It was the weekly gathering, when the members of the congregation met to converse together, and to receive admonition and advice, as circumstances demanded. On this occasion, every member in Grimleigh was in attendance, in obedience to a fiat from the elders. It was known that Johnson was suspected of being concerned, either directly or indirectly, in the tragedy which had so recently happened amongst them, and the congregation expected that at this meeting he would attempt to exonerate himself. Johnson knew the position in which he stood, and what was required of him; but he entered the chapel resolved to let things take their course. If compelled to defend himself he would speak; but he was determined not to state his case voluntarily. There were details in connection with Miss Arnott which he certainly had no wish to make public.

Miss Arnott herself was present, looking haggard and nervous. She felt keenly the position in which she stood towards Johnson. But at the present moment she did not see how to improve it. She had come to the meeting for guidance and comfort. Farmer Carwell, his daughter, and Mayne, arrived together, ready for an exciting evening. Indeed, on their entry into the chapel they were definitely promised one by Brand, who met them at the door.

"Our pastor has not yet arrived," whispered Korah in his deep voice, "but I have sent for him, and he will be here very soon. Then I shall invite him to confess."

"He is not compelled to do that," observed Rachel, who still held that in the absence of proof the minister was innocent.

"He is compelled so far," responded Brand, "that if he cannot clear his character, we shall depose him from his office. He shall have sorrow and wrath with his sickness."

"If he owns that he killed Tera, shall you have him arrested?" asked Mayne.

"No, no; that will never do," interposed Carwell, with a frown. "We must not bring disgrace on Bethgamul by our own act. If the man is guilty, let him fly hence and repent of his sins."

"He will not fly, although I have urged him," groaned Korah.

"In that case it would seem he is innocent," said Rachel. "But here he comes, poor man; how ill he looks!"

"'He cometh in with vanity,'" quoted Brand, "'and his name shall be covered with darkness.'"

"That has yet to be proved," said Herbert. His defence of the minister drew an approving smile from Rachel.

Johnson did indeed look ill. As he stood on the rostrum under the yellow glare of the oil lamp, he gazed down on the stern faces of his people. Every countenance was set like a flint; even those of the women were harder and more unsympathetic than usual, and he felt that in their hearts they already condemned him. But the sight of his old mother weeping quietly in the corner brought him comfort. If no one else believed in his innocence, she did.

"Brother Johnson," said Brand, rising as the minister opened the Bible, "before you speak from the sacred volume, we would know if you are worthy to do so. Are your lips undefiled? Is your heart clean within you?"

"Yes," replied the minister, calmly. "I am conscious of no sin."

"It is 'whispered in Gath and told along the streets of Ascalon' that you have the stain of blood on your hands. The blood of the innocent cries out for judgment against you."

"Who dares to say such a thing, Brother Korah?"

"I do--unworthy as I am." Brand stretched out his arm. "Brother Johnson, you are a pastor of the Lord's sheep, and He committed a lamb to your charge. That lamb is slain, and it is cried aloud that you are the slayer. In the tents of Israel it is spoken. Your carnal love drove Bithiah of Koiau from your dwelling, and in her footsteps you followed to smite and slay her for the love of gold. As Nathan the prophet stood before David, so I stand before you; as Nathan the prophet said unto the king, so say I unto you: 'Thou art the man.'"