19000 Pound Part 50

Then he walked to the wall and took down a whip--a stock whip with a long thong. He drew the lash through his fingers and said:

"This farmhouse has sheltered a thief long enough. I look on that fifty pounds as lost. I give you two minutes to get the other side of that door. If you're not gone then, I'll write a receipt on your back with this lash. So help me, G.o.d!"

"Father!"

"Stand back, girl!--this is no place for you."

"Father----"

"Stand back, I say. You're my flesh and blood--the flesh and blood of honest people; you want no truck with carrion like this."

"Farmer, you think I have robbed you----"

"Thief!"

"You think that I----"

"Thief!"

"I, who wanted to----"

"Thief!"

Gerald walked to the door. Tessie sprang to it, too, and said:

"Gerald!"

"Tessie, I--answer me, la.s.sie; it looks black enough, G.o.d knows. Answer me! Do you think I lied when I told you----"

"No, Gerald; I believe in you now as I did then."

"Thank G.o.d!"

"My own flesh and blood turnin' agin' me!"

"Farmer, I----"

"Thief!"

"Listen to----"

"Thief!"

"Father!"

"Stand aside, child, and let that thief go out--out before I lash him like the dog he is."

"No, father, you wrong him, you wrong me. He is my promised husband. If he is turned out, I go with him."

And once more the farmer muttered:

"My own flesh and blood turnin' agin' me!"

"Tessie, my little girl."

Gerald had his arms round her waist, and drew her to him as he spoke.

"G.o.d bless you for those words. They put heart, life, and courage into me. But this is your home. Stay here, girlie, till I fetch you from it--till I have found the money of which I have been robbed."

"Gerald!"

"My girlie," there was a little tremble in his voice, "the sky looked so clear and bright as we came to the farm, and it looks all drear and black now I am leaving it. But the blackest cloud has a silver lining, and I know that money is in America.

"I've got to find it, Tessie, and I'm going right away now to do it.

Right away into New York, and you won't see me back here again until I come with the money; until I come to make your father apologize for calling an honest man a thief, and admit that it doesn't always do to judge by appearances."

"Gerald!"

"Oh, I don't blame him, la.s.s; things look black, cruelly black; and if he knew all, he'd be more full of wonder than unjust rage. I sewed those notes into this vest myself, Tessie, and sleeping or waking, girlie, it has never left my body."

"Where--where, Gerald, can the notes be?"

"That, la.s.s, I am going to New York to find out. A kiss, girlie; just one. You'll see me back; trust me."

"I do, Gerald--trust you with all my heart and soul."

"Mrs. Depew, you don't feel so strong about this matter as the farmer; you don't know quite so much. If he's inclined to be rough on this girl here, remember that I tell you that when she defends me, she defends an honest man.

"You told me once that you knew by my eyes I could never tell a woman a lie. I'm looking you straight in the face now, Mrs. Depew, and I tell you that I sewed that money in my vest myself."

"Why," blurted out the farmer, "why didn't----"

"Hold on, there, farmer--you've said enough. I've taken such words from you to-night as no living man can say he has ever uttered to me before.

I don't want to hear you talk now. Later on, I'll listen--listen when you beg my pardon for your injustice; as you shall, by G.o.d! Good-night."

And he pa.s.sed through the doorway, out on to the road, his face towards the capital.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

A THEATRICAL MAKE-UP

We leave America for England, and turn back in our history a week or so--to Wimbledon and The Elms on the night of Gerald's adventure there.

The police and Gerald are in the pa.s.sage by the front door, and a haggard faced man is crouched below the steps listening.