Witness to the Deed Part 76

He looked from one to the other as they sat watching him in helpless dismay.

"Come; don't fool. You are keeping the lady waiting, and old Jerrold is a regular Tartar, I can tell you. He will not stand any nonsense. I know him of old. Come, what is it to be?"

He looked fixedly at Stratton, as if urging him to speak, but no words came.

"I say, what is it to be?" cried the man fiercely. "No shilly-shally!

Don't put me out, or I shall be more nasty than you like. There, there, don't let's quarrel, gentlemen," he cried, changing his tone. "We're all men of the world, and we've got to deal with an ugly difficulty.

Let's settle it sensibly. I'm sorry for you, Stratton. It's disappointing for you to have a dead man come to life and claim his wife just as you are going to take the pretty widow to the church; but these accidents will occur, and when they do let's repair damages the best way we can. Well; why don't you speak; don't let me do all the talking."

Stratton drew a deep breath.

"Oh, it's of no use to sigh over it, sir, not a bit. Nothing to sigh for. Come, hang it all, Myra Barron's worth a few hundreds down, and a little income for her lawful lord. I don't want her, but I can't afford to sell her too cheaply--hang the thing!"

He gave his head an uneasy jerk, and his hand played about his neck and the back of his right ear for a few moments, as if something troubled him. But it pa.s.sed off directly, and he looked from one to the other again as he took a chair, turned it, and supported himself by propping himself with the back.

"Now then: the parson's waiting, and the carriages and the people.

Drink my health after its all over, and think to yourself I've behaved like a trump. Write out a cheque, and send the old man here to cash it, only look here, old fellow, no games, no tricks. You'll play fair--or I shall make it pretty unpleasant for all concerned, I can tell you. All right, you'll be square. You can't afford to play tricks. Now, then, we are agreed, eh? That's right. Better than having a furious row about nothing. What do you say?"

"I was about to speak to my friend, sir," said Stratton quietly. Then turning to Brettison--"Now what do you think; we must completely alter our plans."

"Yes," said Brettison, with a sigh.

"Make your plans, gentlemen, when you've settled with me," said the man sternly, and he jerked one hand up to his neck again, and withdrew it with a gesture of annoyance. "Come, Stratton, it's only a few lines written with a pen, and you win all you want. Where do you keep your cheque-book? In your table-drawer."

"There is only one way out of the difficulty, Brettison," said Stratton with a sigh.

"Only one," said the old man sadly.

"Bravo, that's common-sense," cried the man. "Sound wisdom. I told you so. Out with that cheque-book at once."

"I'm afraid, sir," said Stratton sternly, "that we are at cross purposes."

"What do you mean?"

"That no money would ever buy your silence, even if I were disposed to play the part of scoundrel. You will get no hush money from me."

"What?"

"There is only one way out of this difficulty."

"Oh, indeed!" said the man sarcastically; "and that is--"

"To hand you over to the police."

"What?"

"You heard my words, sir! I need not repeat them. The prison is the only place for such as you, where the power of doing mischief is beyond you. Brettison, go down and fetch a policeman--two--at once."

"Let him stir, and I'll send a bullet through his skull," cried the man fiercely, as his hand was thrust behind him beneath his coat.

"Go at once, Brettison, I'll take care he does not harm you."

"Don't listen to him, you, sir," cried the scoundrel. "I warn you; you stir from that chair and you're a dead man!"

"My dear Stratton," said Brettison, rising from his sea.

"Go at once! Never mind his threats," said Stratton fiercely.

"All right, I've warned you," said the man, drawing back his lips from his teeth like some wild animal about to bite, and, stepping quickly to the door, he stood near it with his hand behind him still, as if about to draw a revolver from his hip pocket.

Brettison did not stir.

"He has a pistol there," he whispered.

"Of course. Suppose I was coming on a job like this, to make my gentleman there disgorge, and not have a mate to back me? Now, then, both of you; it's of no use to get into a pa.s.sion. You threaten police.

I checkmate you with the little tool I have here--my reserve force.

There, you had better take it quietly, Stratton. What are a few hundreds to you? I give up the girl and her fortune; what more do you want? As for myself, I only wish for enough to live comfortably and in peace without troubling anybody. There, let's talk again like men of the world. You put my back up when you begin talking all that nonsense about the police. Be sensible, Mr Stratton. I've had one dose of over yonder that was not pleasant. I don't want to get on trial for shooting you--if caught."

He said the last words with a forced laugh, and took a step or two forward in a jaunty fashion, in wonderful contrast with his manner an hour or so before.

"Now, then, Mr Stratton, we'll forget all that, please. Sit down, as I said before, and write that cheque."

Stratton stood motionless in the middle of the room, with his eyes fixed upon his visitor; and his strength of mind and determination seemed to grow rapidly. The old nervous horror was gone, and, quite equal to his task, he never for a moment removed his eyes from his adversary.

"Come, we're wasting time, Mr Stratton. You're wanted yonder. No more shilly-shallying, please; that cheque."

"Fetch the police, Brettison," said Stratton sternly; and, in obedience to the order, Brettison took a step forward, while the savage aspect came again into the ex-convict's countenance as he took a step back and covered the door.

"No, you don't," he said, making a gesture as if tugging a pistol from his pocket. "I warn you both, I'm a desperate man. I've been skulking about for over a twelvemonth now, waiting for my chance, and it's come.

I'll have that money before I go. Write out that cheque, and get it cashed. Send him, I say again, to get the money; and as for you," he snarled, as he turned his eyes on Brettison, "you play any games, you so much as look at a policeman while you are out, and I warn you he'll suffer for it before you can break in here with any of your cursed hounds."

"It's of no use," said Brettison hoa.r.s.ely. "Let him say how much he wants, and I'll write a cheque and get the money."

"Hah! That's talking sense," said the man exultantly, but never for a moment relaxing his watchfulness--keeping his eyes upon Stratton, but noting as well Brettison's actions as he took out his pocketbook and drew a blank cheque from one of the folds.

"How much must I draw this for, Mr Cousin?" he said hurriedly.

"Cousin? Who's Mr Cousin? Draw it to James Barron, Esquire. No.

What for? Draw it to yourself. Five hundred pounds, now."

Brettison shrugged his shoulders, and moved toward the table.

"Stop!" cried Stratton firmly. "What are you going to do?"

"Give him the money," said Brettison. "You see; we must."

"Fetch the police," repeated Stratton. "I cannot leave you and go myself."

"But the man is armed," said Brettison. "My dear boy, he is desperate."