CHAPTER XII

A WELCOME WITNESS

Assuredly, the congregation had no reason to complain that the anticipated sensation was not forthcoming. There was an agitated rustle through the chapel. Every one looked eagerly at Johnson, wondering what reply he would make to the accusation of Brand. For a moment or so the minister stood silent with upraised face. His lips moved in silent prayer, for he was seeking from God that aid which was denied to him by man. Miss Arnott, white and trembling violently, leaned forward in expectation of the denial she felt certain would come. For quite a minute there was dead silence. It was broken by the accused man. "'O Lord, Thou knowest,'" said he, in the words of Jeremiah, "'remember me, and visit me, and revenge me on my persecutors.'" He paused, and looked quietly at the rugged face of Brand. "Brother Korah," continued the minister, "you have borne false witness against me. I am innocent of this crime you would place on my shoulders. What evidence can you bring forward to prove that you speak truly? Let me hear your grounds of accusation, that I may reply to them as best I can."

Brand was considerably surprised at the calmness of this speech. It was very different from what he had expected. He glanced with some embarrassment at Farmer Carwell.

"Shall I question him?" he demanded.

"Surely, brother," answered Carwell, gravely; "the meanest criminal has a right to a hearing. Question our pastor, that we may learn if he is still to teach us, or if he should be cast out of Emmanuel's fold."

"I ask for nothing better than such an examination," cried Johnson. "I stand here as I would at the Judgment Seat, to defend my name and life. Begin, Brother Korah. On what grounds do you accuse me?"

"You loved Bithiah," said Brand, harshly.

"Is that a crime? Is love forbidden by the Gospel? Yes, I loved her." Miss Arnott winced at the tenderness of his tone. "I would have made her my honoured wife, but that she refused me."

"Why did she leave your house?"

"Because she loved Finland, the nephew of our Brother Carwell. I judged him too godless for Bithiah, and I forbade her to see him. Also I informed her that I would place her in the care of you, Brother Korah, to be taken back to Koiau. For love of Finland she left my house. Whither she went, I know not."

"Yet you were near the scene of the crime on the night on which Bithiah may be supposed to have been murdered."

"Certainly. I went there because it was her favourite walk. But I never saw a sign of her. On this Holy Book," Johnson touched the great Bible before him, "I never saw the girl."

"What of her treasure, brother?"

"The pearls? She took those with her, as she had every right to."

"Did you not take them from her dead body that you might pay your debts?"

"No!" cried Johnson furiously. "How dare you assume that I am guilty of such an act! I never saw the girl dead. I took no pearls from her body. Where they are, I know no more than you do."

"Yet your debts are paid!"

"They are--paid in full."

"By yourself?"

"No. By some one whose name I decline to give."

Brand looked down with a sardonic smile. If honest enough himself, the man's methods of conducting an examination were certainly open to criticism. "Such a statement is incredible," he declared; "as a rule, men's debts are not paid by unknown benefactors."

"Nevertheless, mine are paid," said Johnson, firmly; "besides, my benefactor is not unknown. You are ignorant of her name, doubtless, but I am not."

"Her name!" repeated Korah in surprise; "then it is a woman! Do you dare to stand there and state that you permitted your debts to be paid by a woman?"

"I state nothing. I admit nothing. My debts are paid."

"And by the proceeds of the pearls," cried Brand, "I do not believe your fiction about a woman. If you killed Bithiah, we will have no murderer for our pastor. If a woman--as you say--paid your debts, you are not fit to occupy our pulpit. It would appear that you add profligacy to----"

"Stop!" cried Miss Arnott, rising and coming forward with the sweep and style of a Lady Macbeth. "I forbid you, Brother Korah, to blame your pastor unjustly. His debts have been paid by a woman;" she looked round to emphasize her next words, and bespeak the attention of the congregation. "I am that woman!" she said, drawing herself up.

There was a pause, during which Miss Arnott's dramatic instincts were strong enough to appreciate the situation. There she stood, defiant and calm, with the eyes of the amazed congregation fastened on her. Johnson remained in his seat, waiting developments; and Brand, taken by surprise, stared at her dumbfounded. In the old days there would have been a quick curtain on this situation, and probably much applause afterwards; and Miss Arnott, in spite of her conversion and religion, could not but thrill at this intrusion of melodrama into real life. Certainly she made the most of her part.

"Yes," she repeated, touching her breast, "I am the woman, and who will dare to accuse me of acting otherwise than in a Christian spirit? It was told to me that our pastor was in difficulties about money, and as I am rich I determined to discharge his debts. 'Bear ye one another's burdens,' saith the Gospel, and in obedience to that command I took our pastor's burden on my shoulders. Having obtained a list of his creditors--it matters not how--I went to London and there paid their demands in full. That I might do good in secret, I made those I paid promise to say no word of my deed. Our pastor sought to learn my name, but could not until I myself revealed it to him. I did so," said Miss Arnott in her grandest voice, "because he was accused of stealing those pearls to discharge his liabilities. Of the crime you would fix upon him, Brother Brand, he is innocent. I paid the money."

Still no one spoke, least of all Brand, for he realized that his accusation had fallen to pieces hopelessly. Miss Arnott looked around her and saw her opportunity for making an effective exit. Seizing it, she swept with measured steps towards the door. There she paused and stretched out her arm towards Brand. "'He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it,'" she declaimed, and, still facing the congregation, she withdrew slowly. In a transpontine theatre the intensity of the scene would have brought down the house. As it was, these good people simply sat silent and stared.

Johnson was the first to recover himself. He rose solemnly. "My honour has been vindicated," he said. "Brother Korah, I demand that you withdraw your accusation."

"Yes, yes; withdraw the accusation," cried the congregation, awaking from their apathy. "Our pastor is innocent."

Brand made as if to speak. He wished to question Johnson concerning the missing curtain cord. But at this moment one of the more enthusiastic members struck up a well-known hymn. The others joined in lustily, and drowned the words of the missionary. Seeing that the sympathy of the greatest number was with him, Johnson was wise enough to withdraw. As the singing grew louder and the people became more excited, he descended the rostrum and left the chapel. Outside, the night was moonless and starless, and hardly had the minister taken half a dozen steps when his arm was seized by Brand. The man was shaking with nervous excitement.

"Brother Johnson," he said in an agitated voice, "believe me, I bear you no ill-will. I accused you in all good faith, but the Lord hath spoken. I now know you did not steal the pearls to pay your debts. I have no doubt you can also explain how the cord, with which Bithiah was strangled, came to be missing from your study."

"That, I fear at this present moment, I cannot," replied the minister, simply; "but you must believe in my innocence now?"

"I do, I do. But do not look on me as your enemy. I acted for the glory of the Lord. I would have cut you off as a withered branch. I see my mistake now--think of me, I pray, only as your friend."

"I believe you accused me in good faith, Brother Korah. Let us say no more about the matter."

Brand did not speak, but wrung the minister's hand hard, and darted back to the chapel. Johnson took his way homeward, wondering at the rigid nature of the man who would have ruined him in all honesty. "If thy right hand offend thee cut it off"--that was the precept upon which Brand had acted; and but for Miss Arnott's evidence he would have turned Johnson adrift on the world with a dishonoured name and an endangered life. The pastor shuddered at the missionary's rigour, but he silently admitted his honesty of purpose. Then, standing under the stars, he took off his hat, and thanked God for having aided him in his trouble. There would be no question now of his leaving Bethgamul.

As he drew near his house, he saw a dark form at the gate. A few steps brought him beside it, and he then recognized Miss Arnott. She started as he came up, and looked at him in the glare of the gaslight. Her eyes were full of tears.

"Miss Arnott," said Johnson, clasping her passive hand, "I thank you from my soul for the noble way in which you defended me to-night."

"It was only right," whispered the woman, trembling at his touch; "I know you are innocent."

Recollecting Slade's discovery, and recalling his own suspicions, Johnson laid his hand on her arm. "Do you know who murdered her?"

"I? No. How should I know?" Then she caught sight of the expression on his face. She shrank back. "Surely--you don't suspect me?" she said in tones of horror.

"Miss Arnott," replied the minister, anxiously, "I will be plain with you. On the spot where Bithiah's body was found, Slade, the policeman, discovered your ear-ring!"

"Did he know it was mine?"

"No; I did not tell him. But his theory is that the woman to whom the ear-ring belongs killed the girl. Were you there on that night?"

"No; I went back to my house after my quarrel with Bithiah, and I was indoors all the evening."

"How came that ear-ring to be there, then?"

"Bithiah tore the ear-ring from my ear," explained Miss Arnott, hurriedly; "I can show you the scar. No doubt she took it with her to the field, and dropped it when she was assaulted by the person who killed her. I had no hand in her death. You believe me, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," replied Johnson, promptly. "I cannot think a woman who could act as you have done to-night would murder a defenceless girl."

"After our quarrel I never saw her. I hated her--why? Because she was the one you loved. I was jealous and unjust. But I would not have killed her."

"I am sure of that," said Johnson, kindly. "But tell me--where did you get that ear-ring?"

"From a gipsy girl named Zara Lovell. She had a pair I admired very much--they were of gipsy workmanship--and I paid her well to get me a similar pair."

"Then she still kept her own?"

"Yes--at least, I suppose so. She had them on when I saw her last, about a year ago. But why do you ask?"

"Slade suspects that Zara killed Bithiah out of jealousy on Finland's account. Your story of the ear-ring would seem to confirm his belief. After all, the ear-ring found by Slade may not be yours!"

"I can't say," replied Miss Arnott, drawing her shawl round her. "She might have killed Bithiah, as you say, and lost her own ear-ring in the struggle. If it is mine, Bithiah herself must have taken it with her." She touched the minister timidly. "You believe in my innocence?"

"Yes; I am sure of it."

"Thank God for that. I could stand any one doubting me but you;" and before Johnson could stop her, the excited woman had bent down and kissed his hand. The next moment she was gone.

With a thoughtful face, Johnson walked inside, pondering on the great love she bore him. His feelings were touched. He thought more about her than he had done since the death of Bithiah. Was it possible that the void in his heart, great as it was, could ever be filled up? The very thought of such a thing seemed treason against the dead.

The next day he received a letter from Slade, which caused him considerable surprise. It contained certain instructions, which for his own safety it was necessary for him to carry out. Amongst other things, Slade stated that by threatening to denounce the Jew as a receiver of stolen goods, he had induced him to return with him to Grimleigh. He hoped to bring him to the minister's house at about four o'clock that day. Johnson was delighted with the intelligence. It promised more completely to vindicate him. Meanwhile, having implicit faith in Slade, he duly carried out his instructions.

All that day he was much agitated. He kept within doors and refused to see any one, for he was determined not to go amongst his people until his character was clear. He admitted Chard only. For him he had sent, in accordance with Slade's instructions. The inspector was every bit as curious as Johnson himself, and it was with great impatience they awaited the arrival of the Jew and the policeman. In the interim, he told Chard of Shackel's accusation.

"Now you will see if these accusations are true," said Johnson, emphatically. "If I sold the pearls, this man will recognize me at once."

"And if he does not recognize you, what then?"

"Well, he may be able to describe the man who did sell the pearls."

"The murderer?"

"Without doubt," said Johnson, gravely, "seeing that they were taken from the body."

"Well, I hope we'll get at the truth, anyway," said Chard. "I had no idea Slade was so smart!"

At four o'clock to the minute the policeman arrived, and with him a fat dark little man of a pronounced Hebraic character, whom he introduced as Mr. Abraham Moss.

"Of Hatton Garden," explained the Jew, with a lisp, "I bought some pearlth from a gentleman for two thouthand poundth."

"Is this the gentleman?" asked Slade, indicating Johnson.

"Bleth me, no. The gentleman wath tall--with a fair mouthtathe--good-looking gent. He wath no minithter. Oh no."

"Under what name did he pawn or sell the pearls?" asked Chard.

"Brown--Luke Brown. 'Courth I knew it wath a faith name, and----" The Jew stopped, for the door had opened, and in it stood a man--the very man for whom Johnson had sent in accordance with Slade's instructions. "Why," cried Moss, "that'th the gent ath thold me the pearlth!"

They all three turned simultaneously towards the door, and saw Finland!