The Solitary Farm

by Fergus Hume

  CHAPTER XXV

  RUN TO EARTH

  The quiet village of Marshely, in Essex, was getting to be as well-knownthrough the length and breadth of England as Westminster Abbey. Themurder of Captain Huxham had caused a sensation, the death of Durgo andVand had created another one, but the discovery of the ghastly scarecrowwhich had warned the birds from the corn-fields of Bleacres, startledeveryone greatly. The news flew like wild fire through the village, andin less than an hour the inhabitants were surveying the terrible object.

  Shortly the constable of the village who had superseded Dutton--indisgrace for his share in the escape of Mrs. Vand--appeared, and, armedwith the authority of the law and assisted by willing hands, removed thepoor relic of humanity from the pole whereupon it had hung for so long.The explanation of its being there was easy. Undoubtedly Captain Huxham,after he had committed the crime, and while Tunks and Pence were away,the one through horror and the other through sheer worry, had carriedout the dead body to fasten it to the pole. He undressed thestraw-stuffed figure, with which everyone was familiar, and havingdestroyed it arrayed the corpse of Edwin Lister in its military clothes.Then he pulled the tattered grey felt cap well over the face so that itshould not be suspected as being that of a human being, and bound thedead to the pole. Of course, no one, not even the Vands, suspected thatthe figure was other than what it had always been, and it said much forthe cruel ingenuity of Captain Jabez Huxham that he had selected soclever a mode of disposing of the body. Had he thrown it into theboundary channel it might have been fished out; had he concealed it inthe house, it would probably have been discovered; and had he buried itin the garden near the house, it might have been dug up. But no one everdreamed that the scarlet-coated scarecrow was the man who was wanted.Huxham had been struck down almost immediately after he had put hisscheme into execution, and it was doubtful if he had intended to leavethe body there. Probably he did, as it was isolated by the corn, andwhen the field was reaped he doubtless intended to get rid of the corpsein some equally ingenious way. The removal of the scarecrow would haveexcited no comment when the fields were reaped, as its career ofusefulness would then be at an end. The dead man's clothes still clothedhis corpse under the scarecrow's ragged garments.

  One result of the discovery was that everyone decided not to buy thecorn which had flourished under so terrible a guardian. Far and wide thenewspapers spread the report of the discovery, and Timson became awarethat a prejudice existed against making bread of the wheat grown on theBleacres ground. Not wishing to spend more money, since he would have toaccount for everything he did to Mrs. Vand, he withdrew the labourers.The Solitary Farm now became solitary indeed, for no one would go nearit, especially after night-fall. The golden fields of wheat spread roundit like a sea, and the ancient house stood up greyly and lonely like athing accursed. And indeed it was looked upon as damned by thevillagers.

  An inquest was held, and, going by the evidence of Luke Tunks, it wasdecided that Edwin Lister came by his end at the hands of Jabez Huxham.Cyril was compelled to attend and give evidence, but said as little ashe could, not wishing to make his father's shady career too public. Hesimply stated that his father was a trader in Nigeria, and being thefriend of Durgo, the dispossessed chief of a friendly tribe in the farHinterland, had come home to see Huxham and get from him certain jewels.Of course he could not suppress the fact that these jewels had beengiven by Kawal to Maxwell Faith, and had been stolen from the dead bodyof the man by his murderer, Captain Huxham: nor could he fail to statethat Bella was the daughter of Maxwell Faith, since had he not done sothe jewels might have been taken from her. But Cyril spoke as clearlyand carefully as he could, quite aware of the delicate position heoccupied. There was no doubt that Huxham, dreading lest the murder ofFaith should be brought home to him, and anxious to retain the jewelswhich were the price of blood, had murdered Lister; afterwards he haddisposed of the body in the ingenious manner explained. But Lister wasdead; Huxham was dead; Vand and Durgo were dead, so the papers suggestedthat there should be an end to the succession of terrible events whichmade Marshely so notorious.

  "And I think this is the last," said Cyril, when he returned to MissAnkers' cottage from his father's funeral. "Bella, we can't stay here."

  "I'm sure I don't want to," replied the harassed girl, who looked wornand thin. "The place is getting on my nerves. I'll marry you as soon asyou like, dear, and then we can go away. But this morning"--shehesitated--"I received a letter from my father's relatives. They ask meto come to them."

  "What will you do?" asked Cyril gravely.

  "Write and say that I am marrying you and intend to go abroad."

  "But, Bella, if you reside with your relatives you may be able to make amuch better match."

  "Yes," said Bella with a grimace. "I might marry a Quaker. No, dear, Iintend to stay with you and marry you. I have done without my relativesfor all this time, and I hope to continue doing without them."

  "Bella! Bella! I have nothing to offer you."

  "Yourself, dear. That is all I want."

  "A stupid gift on my part," said Cyril, looking ruefully in a nearmirror at his face, which was now lean and haggard. "You have the money,and also the sympathy of the public. I can offer you nothing but adishonoured name."

  "Oh, nonsense!" she said vigorously. "I won't have you talk in that way.Why, one of the newspapers referred to your father as a pioneer ofEmpire."

  Sad as he was Cyril could not help smiling. "That is just like myfather's good luck," he exclaimed; "alive or dead, everything comes tohim. I expect his shady doings will be overlooked, and----"

  "No one knows of his shady doings, dear."

  "Well, then, he will be looked upon as a hero. It's just as well he isburied in Marshely churchyard, for some fanatic might propose to buryhim in Westminster Abbey."

  "You will be congratulated on having such a father."

  "No!" cried Cyril violently. "I won't stand that, Bella. We shall go toLondon next week and get married in a registry office. Miss Ankers cancome with you to play propriety."

  Bella laughed. "I rather think Dora is so busy nursing poor Mr. Penceback to health that she has no time."

  "Why, you don't mean to say that she loves Pence?"

  "Yes and no. I won't say what may happen. She pities him for hisweakness, and pity, as you know, is akin to love. Besides, onlyourselves and Inspector Inglis know of the temptation to which Mr. Pencewas submitted."

  "Why, Bella, everyone knows he saw the corpse of Huxham and held histongue."

  "Yes, but everyone doesn't know that he took the one hundred poundswhich he restored to me. He is looked upon as somewhat weak for nothaving informed the police of the crime, but on the whole people aresorry for him."

  "I shall be sorry, too, if a nice little woman like Miss Ankers marriessuch a backboneless creature."

  "Cyril! Cyril! have not our late troubles shown you that we must judgeno one? After what we have undergone I shall never, never give anopinion about anyone again. I am sorry now that I did not behave betterto poor Mrs. Vand. When my supposed father was alive I did treat herhaughtily. No wonder she disliked me."

  "My dear," said Lister, taking her hand, "don't be too hard on yourself.You and your so-called aunt would never have got on well together."

  "But I might have been kinder," said Bella, almost crying; "now that sheis dead and gone I feel that I might have been kinder."

  "How do you know that she is dead and gone?" asked Cyril, in so strangea tone that Bella, dashing the tears from her eyes, looked at himinquiringly. "She is alive," he replied to that mute interrogation.

  "Oh, Cyril, I am so glad! Tell me all about it."

  "I don't know that I am glad, poor soul," said Lister sadly. "The policeare on her track. I didn't want to tell you, Bella, but for the last twodays the papers have been full of the hunt after Mrs. Vand."

  "Why didn't Dora tell me?"

  "I asked her not to. You have had quite enough to bear."

  "Well, n
ow that you have told me some, tell me all."

  "There isn't much to tell. Some too clever landlady in Bloomsburysuspected a quiet lady lodger. It certainly was Mrs. Vand, but shebecame suspicious of her landlady and cleared out. Then she was seen atPutney, and afterwards someone noticed her in Hampstead. The papershaving been taunting the police about the matter, they'll catch her inthe end."

  "Poor Mrs. Vand! poor Mrs. Vand!" The girl's eyes again filled withtears.

  "We can't help her, Bella. I wish Timson could get hold of her andinduce her to stand her trial. I don't think either judge or jury wouldbe hard on her; more, I fancy that her brain must be turned with allthis misery."

  "And she has lost her husband, too," sighed Bella; "she loved him so.Oh, dear Cyril, what should I do if I lost you?"

  Before Lister could reply with the usual lover-like attentions there wasa noise in the road, and looking through the window they saw many peoplehurrying along. Dora came in at the moment from the other room, whithershe always discreetly withdrew when not nursing Pence.

  "It is only some policeman they are running after. He declares that Mrs.Vand is in the neighbourhood. If she is I hope she will escape."

  "By Jove! I must go out and see," said Cyril, seizing his hat.

  "I shall come also," cried Bella, and in a few minutes the two were onthe road. But by this time the people were not tearing along as they hadbeen, and one villager told Lister that it had been a false alarm.

  "The old vixen won't come back to her first hole," said the villagerwith a coarse laugh, and Bella frowned at him for his inhumanity.

  As there really was nothing to hurry for the lovers strolled easilyalong the road talking of their future. "Bella, you haven't many boxes?"asked Cyril.

  "Only two. Why do you ask?"

  "Will you be ready to come with me to London to-morrow?"

  "Yes; I shall be glad to get out of Marshely, where I have been somiserable. Only I wish I knew where Mrs. Vand is, poor soul."

  Cyril passed over the reference to Mrs. Vand, as he was weary ofdiscussing that unfortunate woman. "There's a chum of mine got a motor,"said the young man. "I wrote and asked him for the loan of it. Hebrought it down last night, and it is safely bestowed in the stables of'The Chequers.' To-morrow at nine o'clock let us start off with yourboxes----"

  "And Dora?"

  "No," said Cyril, very decidedly. "Dora can remain with Pence, whom sheprobably will marry. We will go to London and get married at a registryoffice in the afternoon, and then cross to Paris for our honeymoon. Ihaven't much money, Miss Rothschild, but I have enough for that. In ourown happiness let us forget all our troubles."

  "I'll come," said Bella with a sigh. "After all, we can do nothing. Bythe way, Cyril, what about Durgo's things?"

  "Well it's odd you should mention that. He evidently thought thatsomething might happen to him on that night, for he left a note behindhim saying that if he did not return they were to be given to me. So Ihave shifted them long since to my lodgings. There they lie packed up,and ready to be taken away in our motor to-morrow."

  "Cyril, you have been arranging this for some time?"

  "Well, I have. It's the only way of getting you to leave this place, andyou will always be miserable while you remain here."

  "I only stayed in the hope that poor Mrs. Vand might return, and then Iwould be able to comfort her. Oh! how I wish Durgo with his occultpowers was here to help us."

  "I don't; Durgo's occult powers brought him little happiness, and didn'tsolve the mystery of my father's death. One would have thought thatGranny Tunks, in her trances, would have told Durgo that the scarecrowwhich he saw daily was his dearly-beloved master's dead body."

  "It is strange," said Bella thoughtfully; "but then, as Durgo said aboutsomething else, perhaps it was not permitted. What's become of GrannyTunks, Cyril? Is she still at the hut?"

  "Yes; but I heard to-day that she is going on the road again with herold tribe of the Lovels. I daresay Granny will be at all the fairs andrace meetings, swindling people for many a long day."

  "And her son Luke?"

  "He'll get off with a light sentence. He certainly had no hand in themurders, and there is no one to prosecute him for blackmail. Granny andLuke will soon be together again. I hope never to hear more of them, formy part. Bella! Bella! don't let us talk of such things. We have hadenough of these tragedies. Let us be selfish for once in our lives andconsider ourselves. Hullo, what's this?"

  The question was provoked by the sight of Inglis with three constables,who whirled past in a fly which they had evidently obtained from thestation. As they dashed onward in a cloud of dust the inspector,recognising the two, shouted out something indistinctly, with his handto his mouth.

  "What does he say, Cyril?" asked Bella anxiously.

  "Something about fire. I wonder where they are going? Oh!"--Cyrilsuddenly stopped short--"I wonder if they are after poor Mrs. Vand.Come, Bella, let us see where they go to."

  "But where are you going?" asked Bella, as he rushed along the roaddragging her after him swiftly. "Oh!" she cried out with horror, "look!"

  At the far end of the village and in the direction of the Solitary Farm,a vast cloud of smoke was mounting menacingly into the soft radiance ofthe twilight sky. "No wonder Inglis said fire!" cried Lister excitedly,"I believe, Bella, that the Manor-house is blazing."

  "No," cried Bella in reply, "it is impossible."

  But it was not. As they rounded the corner of the crooked village streetin the midst of a crowd of people who had sprung as by magic fromnowhere, they saw the great bulk of the Manor-house enveloped in thickblack smoke, and even at the distance they were could catch sight offiery tongues of flame. The sky was rapidly darkening to night, and thesmoke-cloud, laced with red serpents, looked lurid and livid andsinister.

  "Come, Bella, come!" cried Cyril to the panting girl, and took her armwithin his own, "we must see who set it on fire."

  Bella got her second wind and ran like Atalanta. They speedilyoutstripped the crowd, and were almost the first to cross the planksover the boundary channel. Inglis and his policemen were already runningup the corn-path. Why they should run, or why the villagers should run,Cyril did not know, as there was no water and no fire brigade, hose, orengine, and no chance of saving the ancient mansion. He and Bella ranbecause they wished to see the last of the old home.

  "Who can have set it on fire?" Cyril kept asking.

  "Perhaps a tramp," suggested Bella breathlessly, but in her heart shefelt that something more serious was in the wind. A strange dreadgripped her heart, and the name of Mrs. Vand was on the tip of hertongue, although she never uttered it.

  As the weather was warm and the ground dry--for there had been no rainsince the electric storm which raged when Vand and Durgo had gone downinto the muddy waters of the boundary channel--the old house flamedfuriously. The dry wood caught like tinder, and when Cyril and the girlarrived the whole place was hidden weirdly by dense black smoke, amidstwhich flashed sinister points of fire. Inglis and his men attempted toenter the house, but were driven back by the fierce flames which burstfrom the cracking windows; also the great door was closed and could notbe forced open. They were forced to retreat, and the inspector nearlytumbled over Miss Faith, as Bella was now called.

  "Can't you get her out?" asked Inglis breathlessly.

  "Get her out!" cried the girl, terrified, and half grasping his meaning.

  "Mrs. Vand; she is in there," and he pointed to the furnace of flame.

  Bella screamed and Cyril turned pale. "You must be mistaken," he said.

  "No, no," replied the inspector, who was greatly agitated, for even hisofficial phlegm was not proof against the terror of the position. "TheLondon police wired to me at Pierside that Mrs. Vand had gone down toMarshely. We waited at the station to arrest her, but she got off at aprevious station and was seen by your village policeman to run acrossthe marshes. He wired to my Pierside office, and the wire was repeatedto the station we waited at. We got a fl
y and hurried here only to seethe smoke. I cried out 'Fire!' to you as we passed. Great heavens, whata blaze!"

  "Can't you get her out?" cried Bella, who was white with despair. Littleas she had liked Mrs. Vand, the position was a dreadful one tocontemplate.

  "What can we do?" said the officer, with a gesture of despair. "There isno water and no buckets: and if there were, what bucket of water wouldput out that conflagration. You might as well try and extinguish hellwith a squirt."

  Bella paid no attention to the vehemence of his expression, but turnedto Cyril. "What can we do?" she wailed. "Oh, what can we do?"

  "Nothing, nothing. Look at the police, look at the villagers. We can donothing. If Mrs. Vand is in that blazing house God help her."

  There was now a great crowd of men, women and children all gathered somedistance away from the burning mansion, trampling down the tall corn intheir efforts to see. Bella, with the police and her lover, stood thenearest to the house. "Please God she is not there!" breathed the girl,clasping her hands in agony.

  At that moment, as if to give the lie to her kindly prayer, a window onthe first storey was flung open and Mrs. Vand's head was poked out. Evenat this distance Bella could see that her hair was in disorder, her facehaggard, and her whole mien wild. Breaking away desperately from Cyrilshe rushed right up almost under the window, despite the fierce heat.

  "Aunt, oh aunt," she cried, stretching up her hands, "come down and saveyourself!"

  "No! No. They shall not catch me! I shall not be hanged! I am innocent!I am innocent!" shrieked Mrs. Vand, and Bella could almost see the madflash in her eyes.

  "Bella! Bella! come back," shouted Cyril, and dashing forward he caughtthe girl in his arms and carried her away as the front door felloutward. A long tongue of flame shot out and licked the grass whereBella had stood a moment since.

  By this time the house was blazing furiously, and every window save thatout of which Mrs. Vand's head was thrust, vomited flame. The sky was nowvery dark, and the vivid redness of the flame in the gloom made aterrible and lovely spectacle. Bella, in her despair, would have rushedagain to implore her aunt to escape, but that Cyril and Inglis held herfirmly. "It is useless," they said, and the girl could not but admitthat they were right.

  Mrs. Vand apparently was quite mad. She kept flinging up her arms, andshouting out taunts to the police for having failed to catch her. Thenshe was seized with a fit of frenzy and began to throw things out of thewindow. Chairs, and looking-glasses, and rugs, and table ornaments didshe fling out. Suddenly a devilish thought occurred to her crazed brain.She noted that a tongue of uncut corn stretched from the main body ofwheat almost under the window. Darting back she plucked a flaming brandfrom the crackling door, and, regardless how it burnt the flesh of herhand, she ran to the window. "Off! off! off with you!" cried Mrs. Vand,and carefully dropping the brand on to the tongue of corn.

  In one moment, as it seemed, the thread of fire ran along to the mainbody of the corn, and in an inconceivably short space of time, the acresof golden grain were a sheet of flame. The villagers, the police, bothCyril and Bella, ran for their lives, and it took them all their speedto escape the eager flames which licked their very heels. Pell-mell downto the boundary channel ran everyone. The plank bridge was broken, andmany tumbled into the muddy water. Mrs. Vand stood at the windowyelling, and clapping her hands like a fiend, and the whole vast fieldsof wheat flared like a gigantic bonfire.

  Half swimming, half holding on to the broken bridge planks, Cyril, withBella on his other arm, managed to scramble through that muddy ditch.Beside him shrieked women and cursed men and screamed children. Thepolice having safely reached the other side stretched out arms to thosein the water. Cyril and Bella were soon on dry land, and shortlyeveryone else was saved. Not a single life was lost, either by fire orwater. And when safe on the hither side of this Jordan, the excited,smoke-begrimed throng looked at the flaming fields and the roaringfurnace of the Manor house. The smoke and flame of the burning ascendedto heaven and reddened the evening sky. Mrs. Vand, in setting fire toher last refuge, had indeed provided herself with a noble pyre and adramatic end. Before those who watched could draw breath after theirlast exertions, the roof of the mansion fell in with a crash. Mrs. Vandgave one wild cry and fell backward. Then fierce, red flames enwrappedthe whole structure, while far and wide the raging fire swept over thefields of the Solitary Farm.

  "May God have mercy on her soul!" said Cyril removing his cap.

  "Ah!" said Inglis, "if I had caught her, I wonder if the judge wouldhave said as much."

  "No," replied Bella, "she is dead, and she was innocent. God help herpoor soul!" and everyone around echoed the wish.

  * * * * *

  Bella and Cyril did not go to London the next morning as they hadarranged, but three days later. In the meanwhile search had been madeamongst the ruins of the Manor-house for the body of Mrs. Vand. Butnothing could be found. In that fierce furnace of flame she had beenburnt to a cinder, and not even calcined bones could be gatheredtogether. In a whirlwind of flame the unhappy woman had vanished, andher end affected Bella deeply. Indeed, Cyril feared lest the much-triedgirl should fall ill, and on the third day he brought round themotor-car to Miss Ankers' cottage, to insist that she should come withhim to London.

  "But if we marry so soon it seems like a disrespect to Mrs. Vand,"argued Bella, "and she has left me her money, remember."

  "My dear, don't be morbid," advised Dora; "you will be ill if you stay.Get married, and go to Paris, and try to forget all these terriblethings."

  "What do you say, Pence?" asked Cyril, who in the meantime had carriedout Bella's boxes.

  Pence, looking lean and haggard after his recent illness, but with amuch calmer light in his eyes, nodded. "I say, go, Miss Faith, and getmarried as soon as you can."

  "You wouldn't have given that advice once," said Bella, with a faintsmile, as Dora assisted her to adjust her cloak.

  "No. But I have grown wiser."

  "What a compliment!"

  "You have forgiven me, have you not?"

  "Yes, I have." She held out her hand, "and the best thing I can wish youis the best wife in the world."

  As if by chance, her eyes rested on Dora, who blushed, and then onPence, who grew red. Afterwards, with half a smile and half a sigh, shegot into the car beside Cyril. Dora hopped like a bird on to the step tokiss her.

  Lister raised his cap, and the car went humming down the road on the wayto peace and happiness.

  "That's the end of her solitary life," said Pence, thankfully.

  "On the Solitary Farm," rejoined Dora; "come and have some breakfast."

  THE END.

  THE BEST NOVELS BY FERGUS HUME

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