"Gave himself up?"
"So Mrs Wilson and her daughter says. They was in the kitchen, at the other side of the door, and they heard him giving of himself up. Seems as how they're going to take him over to Doverham in the morning and bring him before the magistrates. My word! won't all the countryside be there to see! To think of its having been Mr Morice after all. Me, I never shouldn't have believed it, if he hadn't let it out himself."
Mr Day waited to hear no more. Making his way through the little crowd he strode on alone. That moon-lit walk was spoilt for him. As he went some curious reflections were taking shape in his mind.
"That finishes it. Now something will have to be done. I wish I'd done as I said I would, and taken myself off long ago. And yet I don't know that I should have been any more comfortable if I had. Wherever I might have gone I should have been on tenterhooks. If I'd been on the other side of the world and heard of this about Mr Morice, I should have had to come back and make a clean breast of it. Yet it's hard on me at my time of life!" He sighed, striking at the ground with the ferule of his stick. "All my days I've made it my special care to have nothing to do with the police-courts. I've seen too much trouble come of it to everyone concerned, and never any good, and now to be dragged into a thing like this. And all through her! If, after all, I've got to speak, I don't know that I wouldn't rather have spoken at first. It would have been better perhaps; it would have saved a lot of bother, not to speak of all the worry I've had. I feel sure it's aged me. I could see by the way Mrs Hardy looked at me to-night that she thought I was looking older. Goodness knows that I'm getting old fast enough in the ordinary course of nature." Again sighing, he struck at the ground with his stick. "It would have served her right if I had spoken--anything would have served her right. She's a nice sort, she is. And yet I don't know, poor devil! She's not happy, that's sure and certain. I never saw anyone so changed. What beats me is that no one seems to have noticed, except me. I don't like to look her way: it's written so plain all over her. It just shows how people can have eyes in their heads, and yet not use them. From the remarks I've heard exchanged, I don't believe a creature has noticed anything, yet I daresay if you were to ask them they'd tell you they always notice everything. Blind worms!"
Perhaps for the purpose of relieving his feelings Mr Day stood still in the centre of the road, tucked his stick under his arm, took out his pipe, loaded it with tobacco and proceeded to smoke. Having got his pipe into going order he continued his way and his reflections.
"I knew it was her from the first; never doubted for a moment. Directly I saw her come into the house that night in the way she did, I knew that she'd been up to something queer, and it wasn't very long before I knew what it was. And I don't know that I was surprised when I heard how bad it really was. All I wanted was to get out of the way before I was dragged into the trouble that I saw was coming. If I hadn't known from the first I should have found out afterwards. She's given herself away a hundred times--ah, and more. If I'd been a detective put upon the job I should have had her over and over again, unless I'd been as stupid as some of those detectives do seem to be. Look at that Nunn now! There's a precious fool! Locking up Mr Morice! I wonder he doesn't lock himself up! Bah!"
This time Mr Day took his pipe out of his mouth with one hand, while he struck at the vacant air with the stick in the other. Perhaps in imagination he was striking at Mr Nunn.
"Poor devil! it must have been something pretty strong which made her do a thing like that. I wonder who that chap was, and what he'd done to her. Not that I want to know--the less I know the better. I know too much as it is. I know that she's haunted, that never since has she had a moment's peace of mind, either by day or night. I've the best of reasons for knowing that she starts pretty nearly out of her skin at every shadow. I shouldn't be surprised to hear at any moment that she's committed suicide. I lay a thousand pounds to a penny that if I was to touch her on the shoulder with the tip of my finger, and say, 'You killed that man in the Cooper's Spinney, and he's looking over your shoulder now,' she'd tumble straight off into a heap on the floor and scream for mercy--What's that?"
He had reached a very lonely part of the road. The Exham Park woods were on either side of him. A long line of giant beeches bordered the road both on the right and left. Beyond again, on both sides, were acres of pines. A charming spot on a summer's day; but, to some minds, just then a little too much in shadow to be altogether pleasant. The high beeches on his left obscured the moon. Here and there it found a passage between their leaves; but for the most part the road was all in darkness. Mr Day was well on in years, but his hearing was as keen as ever, and his nerves as well under control. The ordinary wayfarer would have heard nothing, or, not relishing his surroundings, would have preferred to hear nothing, till he had reached a point where the moon's illumination was again plainly visible. It is odd how many persons, born and bred in the heart of the country, object strenuously to be out among the scenes they know so well, alone in the darkness at night.
But the Exham Park butler was not a person of that kidney. When he heard twigs snapping and the swishing of brushwood, as of someone passing quickly through it, he was immediately desirous of learning what might be the cause of such unwonted midnight sounds. Slipping his pipe into his pocket he moved both rapidly and quietly towards the side of the road from which the sounds proceeded. Just there the long line of hedge was momentarily interrupted by a stile. Leaning over it he peered as best he could into the glancing lights and shadows among the pines. The sounds continued.