"I must consult Stephen and Bess," said Dr. Jim, and left the house. In his pocket was the confession of the late Mrs. Marsh.
[CHAPTER XXIII]
THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
For the next twenty-four hours, Dr. Jim kept his counsel. He said sufficient to set Stephen's mind at rest about his mother, but did not tell the whole story or show the confession which he had obtained from Petronella. He wanted to turn matters over in his own mind before doing this. The fact is Jim was getting a little weary of the whole affair. Every new piece of evidence that came to light seemed only to complicate it. He had felt sure that the paper left by Mrs. Marsh would solve the mystery; but although it told much it did not reveal all. She declared in a half-hearted sort of way that Frisco was guilty. But she gave no proofs; the man in that hurried conversation at the door, had denied the charge, and beyond the fact of his flight there was no evidence against him. It occurred to Jim that the best thing to do would be to drop the matter altogether. It seemed useless to follow such a will-o-the-wisp.
"Still I do not like to do this on my own responsibility," he thought after much consideration, "it will be best for me to lay all the facts before Bess and Stephen, and go by what they say. If they want to go on with it, well and good. If not, I shall end it at once."
With this idea, a most sensible one under the circumstances. Herrick called a council of war. Bess came over from Biffstead, and met Stephen and Jim in the library by appointment. There Herrick again told the whole story of his dealings with the matter, and ended up by placing Mrs. Marsh's letter and its enclosure before them. When the Squire and Bess had read the documents, and were in possession of all the facts connected with the murder of Colonel Carr, Herrick made a speech to them on that basis.
"It seems to me," he said, "that it is foolish going on with this matter. From all that I can see Frisco is the guilty man. But he has disappeared, and I do not think it is worth while hunting him down. To hang him for the murder of a scoundrel like Carr--I beg your pardon Steve but your late uncle was a scoundrel--will be no gratification to any of us. Moreover if he were caught and tried, this letter might have to be produced. I think it best to stop short at this point."
Before Stephen could give his opinion, Bess interrupted him, to dwell, after the custom of a woman, on a minor point. "You foolish boy," she said in reproachful tones. "I see that you took the blame of your mother's doings on yourself. That was stupid. You might have trusted me!"
"My dear Bess, I could not blacken her memory, even to you.
"Perhaps not; but I should have understood. Now that I think of it," she added, "I wonder that I was so foolish as to believe you. It was entirely opposed to your nature to fire at a dead man."