The Just and the Unjust Part 63

"Home, Mr. Langham--we're almost there now," responded Custer.

"Take me to my father's," said Marshall with an effort, and his head fell over on Custer's small shoulder.

He did not speak again until Bill came to a stand before Judge Langham's gate.

"Are we there?" he asked of the boy.

"Yes--"

"Don't you think we'd better get help?" said Shrimplin.

And Marshall seeming to acquiesce in this, the little lamplighter entered the yard and going to the front door rang the bell. A minute pa.s.sed, and growing impatient he rang again. There succeeded another interval of waiting in which Shrimplin c.o.c.ked his head on one side to catch the sound of possible footsteps in the hall.

"He says try the k.n.o.b," called Custer from the cart.

Doing this, Shrimplin felt the door yield, it was not locked; at the same instant he made this discovery, however, he heard a footfall in the street and so, hurried back to the gate. The new-comer halted when he was abreast of wild Bill, and stared first at the cart and then at Shrimplin.

"Is anything the matter?" he asked.

It was Watt Harbison.

"Young Mr. Langham has fell off the high iron bridge," said the little lamplighter, with a dignity that more than covered his lapse from grammar.

"Why--are you badly hurt, Marsh?" cried Watt going close to the cart.

"I don't know, I'm in most infernal pain," said Langham slowly.

"Do you think we can lift him?" asked Shrimplin. "The judge don't seem to be at home."

"Your boy would better go to my uncle's; Judge Langham may be there,"

said Watt.

And Custer promptly slid out of the cart and sped off up the street.

Langham met the delay with grim patience. A strange indifference had taken the place of fear, nothing seemed of much moment any more.

Presently in his stupor he heard the sound of quick steps, then Colonel Harbison's voice, and a moment later he was aware that the three men had lifted him from the cart and were carrying him along the path toward the house. They entered the hall.

"Take me up-stairs," he said, and without pause his bearers moved forward.

They saw now that his face was pinched and ghastly under the smear of blood that was oozing from an ugly cut on his cheek, and Watt and the colonel exchanged significant glances. When they reached the head of the stairs Custer pushed open the first door; the room thus disclosed was in darkness, and the colonel, with a whispered caution to his companions, released his hold on Langham, and striking a match, stepped into the room where, having found the chandelier, he turned on the gas. As the light flared up, Shrimplin and Watt advanced with their helpless burden.

It was the judge's chamber they had entered and it was not untenanted, for there on the bed lay the judge himself.

It was Langham who first saw that rec.u.mbent figure. A hoa.r.s.e inarticulate groan escaped him. He twisted clear of the hands that supported him and by a superhuman effort staggered to his feet, he even took an uncertain step in the direction of the bed, his starting eyes fixed on the spare figure. Then his strength deserted him and with a cry that rose to a shriek, he pitched forward on his face.

The colonel strode past the fallen man to the bedside, where for an instant he stood looking down on a placid face and into open eyes. As his glance wandered he saw that the judge's nerveless fingers still grasped the b.u.t.t of a revolver.

White-faced he turned away. "Is he dead, Colonel?" asked the little lamplighter in an awe-struck voice. "Was he murdered?" and visions of future notoriety flashed through his mind.

The colonel and Watt exchanged shocked glances.

"Here, Shrimplin, help me with Marsh!" said Watt. "We must get him out of here at once!"

They lifted Langham in their arms and bore him into an adjoining room.

As they placed him upon the bed he recovered consciousness and clutched Watt by the sleeve.

"I've been seeing all sorts of things to-night--it began while I lay in that ditch with the pigs rooting about me! Where is my father, can't you find him?" he demanded eagerly.

Watt turned his head away.

"Then that was not a dream--you saw it, too?" said Langham huskily. He dropped back on his pillow. "Dead--Oh, my G.o.d!" he whispered, and was a long time silent.

Harbison despatched Shrimplin and Custer in quest of a physician, and he and Watt busied themselves with removing Marshall's wet clothes. When this was done they washed the blood-stains from his face. He did not speak while they were thus occupied; his eyes, wide and staring, were fixed on vacancy. He was seeing only that still figure on the bed in the room adjoining.

There was a brisk step on the stairs and they were joined by Doctor Taylor.

"I declare, Marsh, I am sorry for this. You must have had quite a tumble, how did you manage it?" he said, as he approached the bed.

Langham's eyes lost something of their intentness as they were turned toward the physician, but he did not answer him. The doctor moved a step aside with Colonel Harbison.

"Had he been drinking?" he asked in a low tone.

"I don't know," said the colonel.

"Shrimplin has gone for Mrs. Langham--I think they are here now. Don't let her come up until I have made my examination. Will you see to this?"

And the colonel quitted the room and hurried down-stairs.

As he gained the floor below, Evelyn entered the house.

"How is Marsh, Colonel Harbison?" she asked.

Her face was colorless but her manner was unexcited; her lips even had a smile for the colonel.

"Doctor Taylor is with him, and I trust he will be able to tell you that Marshall's injuries are not serious!" said Harbison gently.

"Where is he? I must go to him--"

"The doctor prefers that you wait until he finishes his examination,"

said the colonel. He drew her into the library. "Evelyn, I must tell you--you must know that something else--unspeakably dreadful--has happened here to-night!"

"Yes?" The single word was no more than a breath on her full lips.

The colonel hesitated.

"You need not fear to tell me--whatever it is, I--I am prepared for anything--" said Evelyn, with a pause between each word.

"The judge is dead," said Harbison simply. "My poor old friend is dead!"

"Dead--Marshall's father dead!" She looked at him curiously, with a questioning light in her eyes. "You have not told me all, Colonel Harbison!"