The jurymen were considerably surprised at what the Brazencrook officer had done, and so was the coroner, who said, in commencing the business of the day, that the superintendent had, he hoped, acted on evidence which had come to his knowledge since the business of the previous day; otherwise he had no hesitation in saying that he had committed a serious error. He was a plain, outspoken fellow, this Severnshire coroner, who, though he might not always conduct his investigation with legal discretion, fearlessly searched out the truth, and endeavoured to do justice.
It was soon noised abroad that the Earl’s brother was in custody; and this fact was conclusive in the minds of large numbers of persons, especially of the lower order, that he was guilty. There was a great crowd about the inn on this second day, and a numerous body of policemen, chiefly of the county force, to keep the mob in order. “The Magpies” never had so good a time of it. The landlord had been compelled to send into Brazencrook for fresh supplies of beer and spirits, and several additional waiters had to be employed in serving the thirsty customers.
The only additional witnesses were the gunsmith’s assistant and a railway clerk; the former to make that absurd statement about the prisoner purchasing pistols and ammunition, which were not sent home until after the murder; the latter to prove that it was Lionel’s intention to leave Montem Castle that day. But there was another fact which the officer thought a great deal of. In the prisoner’s pocket-book there were some memoranda relative to an account between the deceased and himself, with regard to some share speculations prior to the panic, and in the margin was written in pencil,—“This was a downright swindle of Tallant’s.”
In addition there was a scrap cut from a newspaper, alluding to a fracas which had taken place at the Ashford Club, and in which the Hon. Lionel Hammerton’s name was mentioned, and also Mr. Tallant’s.
Our readers will remember that Lionel had alluded to this gossiping paragraph when he left England. They also know that Hammerton had been led into speculations by Tallant, which had ended in grievous losses that seriously involved Lionel, and had cost the Earl no small sum. The policeman naturally argued from these papers and memoranda, that there had been a quarrel between his prisoner and the deceased; and he laid them before the coroner’s jury with an air of triumph.
But the coroner strongly advised the jury to adjourn for a week, and they did so, leaving the onus of committing the prisoner for trial on the magistrates. Meanwhile Mr. Bales, the detective, did not agree with the opinion of the Brazencrook police. The case bothered him considerably, he acknowledged; but he could not bring himself to think that the prisoner had killed Richard Tallant. If the crime had been committed in London, he would certainly have looked up Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs; for, in the course of the inquiries he had made in those past days for Mr. Christopher Tallant, and since then, he had come across suspicious transactions in which Mr. Gibbs had been mixed up when the ex-swell was in the hey-day of his questionable glory. Hunting out this same gentleman for Mr. Williamson, and finally bringing him to Bow Street to be unsuccessful in his charge against him, the detective knew that Gibbs had appealed to Mr. Tallant in vain for assistance. But Gibbs was a broken-down, drunken wretch: what could he do down here? However, it might be worth while to run up to town, and see if the fellow had been away.
In the evening Mr. Arthur Phillips and his wife arrived at Montem Castle. The Earl welcomed them heartily, and poor Amy, who had come down-stairs wrapped up with shawls, fell upon her dear friend’s shoulder, and sobbed until Phœbe’s heart ached with sympathetic sorrow. What a weary, weary time it was!
Lord Verner started early the next morning to town, that he might personally consult his London solicitors, and take some potent action against the police, or the magistrates, or anybody and everybody by whom his brother was detained in custody. The poor Earl was almost beside himself with indignation and passion.
And all this time that shrinking, hiding, halting, slouching figure, which the reader has seen before, had found shelter in Brazencrook. Moving in the darkness, with the rain splashing on the highway and hissing in the hedge-rows, the figure stalked back again towards Brazencrook, instead of getting away from that town, as the cunning mind had planned. But having no knowledge of the district, and being nervous and excited, and lacking gin, the wretched criminal had succeeded the next day in reaching the town he would have avoided; and when Mr. Bales was thinking of going to town as a sort of forlorn hope, or an excursion by the way, to see Gibbs, this same Gibbs was imbibing his favourite liquor at a sixth-rate tavern at Brazencrook, and reading a full account of the murder in the “Brazencrook Daily Banner.”
“Hang that bruise on the hand,” thought the half-tipsy reader—“clear case of suicide but for that—clear case of felo-de-se—they might have buried the beast in the cross-roads. A rum go if they hang that swell Hammerton—a very rum go. I must burn this pocket-book, and the cheques too for the matter of that—it’s no good trying to cash them; I can get rid of the notes easily enough. What an infernal scoundrel he was, to be sure—threatening his sister the Countess! By Jove, I was close to him then; she ought to thank a fellow for stopping his mouth. How he clutched me—a good thing the pistol was pretty heavy, but confound that bruise and the torn pocket! That policeman is a clever fellow; nobody else would have thought of the pocket-book: wish I’d had time to get his purse—these notes are a nuisance. I’m safe enough, that’s one thing—good idea following the thief by train, deuced good!”