Chapter Eighteen.
A Coroner’s Inquest.
Day had scarcely dawned when the keeper and his satellites were again on the search. The snow had covered the ground for three or four inches, and, as the covers had been well examined on the preceding day, they now left them and went on in the direction towards where the gun had been picked up. This brought them direct to the furze bottom, where the dogs appeared to quicken their movements, and when the keepers came up with them again, they found them lying down by the frozen and stiffened corpse of the pedlar.
“Murder, as I expected,” said Lucas, as they lifted up the body, and scraped off the snow which covered it; “right through his heart, poor fellow; who would have expected this from such a little varmint? Look about, my lads, and see if we can find anything else. What is Nap scratching at?—a bag—take it up, Martin. Dick, do you go for some people to take the body to the Cat and Fiddle, while we see if we can find anything more.”
In a quarter of an hour the people arrived, the body was carried away, while the keeper went off in all haste to the authorities.
Furness, the schoolmaster, as soon as he had obtained the information, hastened to Rushbrook’s cottage, that he might be the first to convey the intelligence. Rushbrook, however, from the back of the cottage, had perceived the people carrying in the body, and was prepared.
“My good people, I am much distressed, but it must be told; believe me, I feel for you—your son, my pupil, has murdered the pedlar.”
“Impossible!” cried Rushbrook.
“It is but too true; I cannot imagine how a boy, brought up under my tuition—nay, Mrs Rushbrook, don’t cry—brought up, I may say, with such strict notions of morality, promising so fairly, blossoming so sweetly—”
“He never murdered the pedlar!” cried Jane, whose face was buried in her apron.
“Who then could have?” replied Furness.
“He never shot him intentionally, I’ll swear,” said Rushbrook; “if the pedlar has come to his death, it must have been by some accident. I suppose the gun went off somehow or other; yes, that must be it: and my poor boy, frightened at what had taken place, has run away.”
“Well,” replied the schoolmaster, “such may have been the case; and I do certainly feel as if it were impossible that a boy like Joey, brought up by me, grounded in every moral duty—I may add, religiously and piously instructed—could ever commit such a horrible crime.”
“Indeed, he never did,” replied Jane; “I am sure he never would do such a thing.”
“Well, I must wish you good-bye now, my poor people; I will go down to the Cat and Fiddle, and hear what they say,” cried the pedagogue, quitting the cottage.
“Jane, be careful,” said Rushbrook; “our great point now is to say nothing. I wish that man would not come here.”
“Oh, Rushbrook!” cried Jane, “what would I give if we could live these last three days over again.”
“Then imagine, Jane, what I would give!” replied Rushbrook, striking his forehead; “and now say no more about it.”
At twelve o’clock the next day the magistrates met, and the coroner’s inquest was held upon the body of the pedlar. On examination of the body, it was ascertained that a charge of small shot had passed directly through the heart, so as to occasion immediate death; that the murder had not been committed with the view of robbing, it was evident, as the pedlar’s purse, watch, and various other articles were found upon his person.
The first person examined was a man of the name of Green, who had found the gun in the ditch. The gun was produced, and he deposed to its being the one which he had picked up, and given into the possession of the keeper; but no one could say to whom the gun might belong.
The next party who gave his evidence was Lucas, the game-keeper. He deposed that he knew the pedlar, Byres, and that being anxious to prevent poaching, he had offered him a good sum if he would assist him in convicting any poacher; that Byres had then confessed to him that he had often received game from Rushbrook, the father of the boy, and still continued to do so, but Rushbrook had treated him ill, and he was determined to be revenged upon him, and get him sent out of the country; that Byres had informed him on the Saturday night before the murder was committed, that Rushbrook was to be out on Monday night to procure game for him, and that if he looked out sharp he was certain to be taken. Byres had also informed him that he had never yet found out when Rushbrook left his cottage or returned, although he had been tracking the boy, Joey. As the boy was missing on Monday morning, and Byres did not return to the ale-house, after he went out on Saturday night, he presumed that it was on the Sunday night that the pedlar was murdered.
The keeper then farther deposed as to the finding of the body, and also of a bag by the side of it; that the bag had evidently been used for putting game in, not only from the smell, but from the feathers of the birds which were still remaining inside of it.
The evidence as to the finding of the body and the bag was corroborated by that of Martin and Dick, the underkeepers.
Mr Furness then made his appearance to give voluntary evidence, notwithstanding his great regard expressed for the Rushbrooks. He deposed that, calling at the cottage, on Monday morning, for his pupil, he found the father and mother in great distress at the disappearance of their son, whom they stated to have left the cottage some time during the night, and to have taken away his father’s gun with him, and that their son had not since returned; that he pointed out to Rushbrook the impropriety of his having a gun, and that Rushbrook had replied that he had carried one all his life, and did not choose to be without one; that they told him they supposed that he had gone out to poach, and was taken by the keepers, and had requested him to go and ascertain if such was the fact. Mr Furness added that he really imagined that to be the case now that he saw the bag, which he recognised as having been once brought to him by little Joey with some potatoes, which his parents had made him a present of; that he could swear to the bag, and so could several others as well as himself. Mr Furness then commenced a long flourish about his system of instruction, in which he was stopped by the coroner, who said that it had nothing to do with the business.
It was then suggested that Rushbrook and his wife should be examined. There was a demur at the idea of the father and mother giving evidence against their child, but it was over-ruled, and in ten minutes they both made their appearance.
Mrs Rushbrook, who had been counselled by her husband, was the first examined; but she would not answer any question put to her. She did nothing but weep; and to every question her only reply was, “If he did kill him, it was by accident; my boy would never commit murder.” Nothing more was to be obtained from her; and the magistrates were so moved by her distress, that she was dismissed.
Rushbrook trembled as he was brought in and saw the body laid out on the table; but he soon recovered himself, and became nerved and resolute, as people often will do in extremity. He had made up his mind to answer some questions, but not all.
“Do you know at what time your son left the cottage?”
“I do not.”
“Does that gun belong to you?”
“Yes, it is mine.”
“Do you know that bag?”
“Yes, it belongs to me.”
“It has been used for putting game into—has it not?”
“I shall not answer that question. I’m not on trial.”
Many other questions were put to him, but he refused to answer them; and as they would all more or less have criminated himself as a poacher, his refusals were admitted. Rushbrook had played his game well in admitting the gun and bag to be his property, as it was of service to him, and no harm to Joey. After summing up the whole evidence, the coroner addressed the jury, and they returned a unanimous verdict of Wilful Murder against Joseph Rushbrook the younger; and the magistrates directed the sum of 200 pounds to be offered for our hero’s apprehension.