Clement was utterly perplexed by the non-appearance of his brother. From hour to hour he looked for him, but in vain. Surely, Edward would have let nothing less than illness keep him away! Clem had felt very grateful to him for his outspoken championship of John Brancker, although, perhaps, knowing as he did something of the hardness of his brother's character, he had been a little surprised at the attitude taken up by him from the first day of the inquiry. Somehow, it scarcely seemed to harmonize with the idea of Edward, which had unconsciously formulated itself in his mind; but that, as he told himself, only served to prove what erroneous views one may form even of those who are closest to us, and whom we flatter ourselves we know and understand best.
His Lordship, the jury, and the prisoner being all back in their places, and silence having been proclaimed in Court, the Foreman of the Jury, in reply to the usual question put by the Clerk of Arraigns, said, in a voice which every ear there was strained to catch:
"We find the prisoner at the bar 'Not guilty.'"
A murmur that seemed half a sigh at first ran through the crowd, and then swiftly rose and swelled into a great cheer, such as the rafters of the old Court-house had rarely, if ever, echoed before.
Three minutes later his sister's arms were round John Brancker's neck, while Edward Hazeldine's messenger was speeding to him with the good news.
John stayed in a private room until the Court had emptied and the crowd dispersed. He was particularly anxious to reach home with as little observation as possible, so it was arranged that he and his sister and Hermia, with Clement Hazeldine by way of escort, should be driven to Ashdown in a fly, instead of returning by train.
Accordingly, a fly was brought, and John Brancker stepped out into the open air a free man. For a few moments the sensation was overpowering; a mental vertigo possessed him; but Clem's strong arm was within his, supporting him, and presently the feeling passed. They were all in the fly, a constable had shut the door, and the driver was on the point of starting, when a figure sprang out of the darkness into the circle of light radiated by the lamp over the Court-house door, and pushing his way through the little crowd of officials, laid a detaining hand on the vehicle. The lamplight brought into relief a haggard, sinister-looking face and two furtive, red-rimmed eyes.
"Mr. Brancker, sir," said the fellow, speaking in hoarse, drink-sodden tones, "if such a wretch as I may be allowed to thank heaven for anything, then I thank it that you are once more a free man. You don't remember me, perhaps? I am Richard Varell, your old clerk. Ah, you recollect me now. Changed, ain't I? But no matter about that. From the first I swore that whoever else might be guilty of Mr. Hazeldine's death, you at least were innocent. As for him--curse him!--he hounded me to my ruin, and he deserved his fate. For him no pity is needed. But as for you, sir, I say again, thank heaven you are free!" He threw up one arm as though it were a signal of farewell, and falling back, was lost next moment in the darkness.
That night Edward Hazeldine slept a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time since his father's death.