England -- Fiction; Murder -- Investigation -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
"What's murder, then?" asked the captain. "Well, I guess I ain't a
hard man, and it's true this thing's come on you sudden-like. Me and
Finland 'ull give you twelve hours to think about it."
"Finland! Is he with you?"
"I guess so. First mate. He was coming here to smash you for murdering
his sweetheart, but I sent him off to his uncle Carwell, and come
myself in his place, being milder-like. Well, what's to be done?"
"Nothing, so far as I am concerned. You can go."
"Twelve hours, my son," threatened the captain, making for the door.
"It's either five hundred pounds to me, or gaol and the gallows for
you. Figure it out your own way. So-long;" and the wrinkled embodiment
of evil left the room with the utmost nonchalance. Evidently Captain
Jacob was satisfied that the game was in his own hands.
Left to himself, Johnson gave himself up to a survey of his position.
He was almost in despair. This was not the first disagreeable
interview through which he had gone that day; for, before the funeral,
Brand had been with him urging him to flight.
In his desire to save Johnson and avert disgrace from Bethgamul, Korah
had broken his promise to Slade, and had related the discovery of the
stolen curtain cord. A tri-coloured silken rope had been taken from
the study; a tri-coloured silken rope had been used to strangle Tera.
Were these one and the same? It certainly seemed so. Who could have
stolen it? Who could have committed the murder? Johnson was strong in
the consciousness of his own innocence, and he was sustained by his
belief in the justice of God; yet the evidence against him was so
explicit that he could not but see how difficult it would be to
extricate himself from the position in which he was placed. He had
been near the field the very night on which Tera had been killed
there! his debts had been paid by some person whom he could not even
name; the cord used to strangle the girl had been taken from his
study; and public opinion was dead against him as the actual criminal.
The wretched man knew not how best to combat this evil--how to
disprove this evidence. He felt that he was in a net, the meshes of
which were gradually closing round him. It was better, perhaps, to
adopt Brand's suggestion and fly, lest worse should befall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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