England -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
"Well, travellers," he said, "did I hear ye speak to me?"
"You did; you've got to come and be our prisoner at once," said the
constable. "We arrest ye on the charge of not biding in Casterbridge
gaol in a decent, proper manner, to be hung to-morrow morning.
Neighbours, do your duty, and seize the culpet!"
On hearing the charge, the man seemed enlightened, and, saying
not another word, resigned himself with preternatural civility to
the search-party, who, with their staves in their hands, surrounded
him on all sides, and marched him back toward the shepherd's cottage.
It was eleven o'clock by the time they arrived. The light shining
from the open door, a sound of men's voices within, proclaimed
to them, as they approached the house, that some new events had
arisen in their absence. On entering they discovered the shepherd's
living-room to be invaded by officers from Casterbridge gaol and
a well-known magistrate who lived at the nearest country-seat,
intelligence of the escape having become generally circulated.
"Gentlemen," said the constable, "I have brought back your man--not
without risk and danger, but every one must do his duty. He is
inside this circle of able-bodied persons, who have lent me useful
aid, considering their ignorance of crown work. Men, bring forward
your prisoner." And the third stranger was led to the light.
"Who is this?" said one of the officials.
"The man," said the constable.
"Certainly not," said the other turnkey, and the first corroborated
his statement.
"But how can it be otherwise?" asked the constable. "Or why was he
so terrified at sight o' the singing instrument of the law?" Here
he related the strange behaviour of the third stranger on entering
the house.
"Can't understand it," said the officer, coolly. All I know is
that it is not the condemned man. He's quite a different character
from this one; a gauntish fellow, with dark hair and eyes, rather
good-looking, and with a musical bass voice that, if you heard it
once, you'd never mistake as long as you lived."
"Why, souls, 't was the man in the chimney-corner!"
"Hey--what?" said the magistrate, coming forward after inquiring
particulars from the shepherd in the background. "Haven't you got
the man after all?"
"Well, sir," said the constable, "he's the man we were in search
of, that's true; and yet he's not the man we were in search of.
For the man we were in search of was not the man we wanted, sir,
if you understand my every-day way; for 't was the man in the
chimney-corner."
"A pretty kettle of fish altogether!" said the magistrate. "You
had better start for the other man at once."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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