The Greatest Works of J. S. Fletcher (64+ Titles in One Illustrated Edition). J. S. Fletcher

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СКАЧАТЬ a shaking, quivering mass and, closely huddled together, to stare back in wide-eyed affright at the horror which had driven them close to madness. And Taffendale stared, and the men gathered about him stared, and the women, clustering in the farmhouse windows, stared, until in the grey morning the great fire burnt itself out, and where the stacks had stood in their prim neatness and ordered lines, thatched and trimmed and shaven, there was nothing but shapeless heaps of blackened refuse, through which evil tongues of feeble flame darted at every puff of wind.

      And in that grey light Taffendale went back to the road outside the farmstead and looked at the place whereat the evil had originated. There were patches of blood on the yellow of the roadway, showing where the lime-burners' sticks had cracked the villagers' crowns. And across the ruins of the bonfire, still tied together and only partially consumed, lay the straw-stuffed effigies which had represented Rhoda and himself.

Chapter XVIII

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      Taffendale went back to the house, stripped off his smoke-blackened clothes, and plunged into a cold bath. An hour later, the sun being then well risen above the woods, he walked into the kitchen, spick-and-span, from his well-groomed head to his polished boots, to find the lime-burners and the farm hands busied over the breakfast which he had told his housekeeper to prepare for them. The occasion might have been one of rejoicing rather than of sorrow, for Taffendale had been prodigal in his orders, and the men were feasting royally. They stared open-mouthed at him as he strode up to the top of the long table at which they sat.

      "Now, my lads," he said, "its no use crying over spilt milk. What's done is done, and it can't be helped now. What's more important is what is to be done. I want every sign and vestige of that fire cleared out of my stackyard to-day. Set to work on it as soon as you've had your breakfasts, and go at it with a heart and a half! There'll be drinkings for you morning and afternoon, and there'll be your dinner at one o'clock and your supper at six. Go at it, all of you—lime-burners and all. And when it's done there'll be a sovereign apiece for every man and lad. What I want," he paused as a murmur of gratification rolled round the the table—"what I want is to see my premises cleared of every trace of what happened last night. As for those that caused it to happen—leave them to me."

      Then he strode out of the kitchen followed by voluble promises, and went to the parlour, where Rhoda, cowed and terrified by the events of the night, sat awaiting him. Before she could speak he laid his hand firmly on her shoulder.

      "Now, my girl," he said, with a note of purpose and sternness in his voice which she had never noticed before, "I want you to listen to me. Maybe this has all come about because—well, because we didn't think, because we let our feelings get too much for us. But I'm not the man to be beaten down by what they call public opinion. When I decide to go on with a thing I go on with it against the likes or dislikes of anybody. And—you'll stay in this house."

      Rhoda stared at him with amazed eyes.

      "After—last night?" she faltered.

      "Because of last night," said Taffendale. "Because of last night. I'll let whoever's interested see that I care naught for what anybody says. You're burned out of house and home, and here you'll stay. My housekeeper's also my cousin, and she'll play propriety and act chaperone and all the rest of the damned nonsense. And if anybody says a word, then they'll have to settle with me. Now I'm going to begin my reckoning with those devils in Martinsthorpe, and before I've done with them they shall wish that they'd died before ever their mothers bore them!"

      Without more words Taffendale went away, saddled his horse with his own hands, and set out for the market-town and his solicitor. And so that he might fill his mind full of the enormity of the misdeeds of the stang-riders, he went round by Cherry-trees, to see the exact amount of damage they had done there.

      Early as the hour was, Cherry-trees was surrounded by an eager and exicted crowd. There were men there who should have been at work in the fields, there were whispering and awe-struck women, there were children whose mothers had roused them from their slumbers with news of a great event. And there, talking gravely with the Martinsthorpe policeman, was the under-steward, one of the more considerable farmers of the village, who turned a troubled face on Taffendale as he rode up. He and his companion advanced to meet him; the other folk gathered in knots and stared at him furtively, wondering at his set face and the glitter in his eyes.

      "This is a bad job, Mr. Taffendale," said the under-steward. "A bad, bad job, sir."

      Taffendale made no immediate answer. He reined in his horse and looked around him. The picture of his own devastated stackyard was fresh in his mind, but here was one of still greater desolation. For Cherry-trees was burnt to the ground. House, outbuildings, sheds, all were destroyed; the very trees in the garden and orchard were shrivelled and twisted and blackened. There was naught to be seen in the triangle which Perris's holding had filled but heaps of seared masonry and grey ashes. And from the low murmurs and chance words which he had heard as he sat watching, he knew that such live-stock as had been left on the place had perished in the flames.

      "Aye, it's a bad job, indeed!" said the village constable, desirous of showing his agreement with the under-steward. "I never heard tell o' such doin's."

      Taffendale looked down at both men with scornful eyes and a curling lip. He laughed and they glanced at him wonderingly.

      "And I suppose you could do naught to stop it?" he said, looking the policeman up and down.

      "Me, sir! What could I do?" the man asked, genuinely surprised. "What's one man against a lot such as was out last night? They'd have knocked me on the head as soon as look at me!"

      "But you represent the majesty of the Law," said Taffendale, sneeringly. "I should have thought they'd all have run away if you'd held your hand up."

      The policeman's face became sullen, and the under-steward looked displeased.

      "This isn't a time for joking, Mr. Taffendale," he said. "The constable's right—one man couldn't do aught against a mob like that. No, nor six men neither!"

      "And I suppose there weren't any peaceable and law-abiding folk in Martinsthorpe village to stop those that were riotous and lawless?" exclaimed Taffendale. "You don't mean to tell me—and I shouldn't believe you if you did—that all the men and lads in Martinsthorpe joined in burning this place down and in burning my stacks? Why didn't you two get the better-disposed together, and stop the badly-disposed? If you'd liked, you could have prevented them from even coming up that hill."

      The policeman looked uncomfortable, but the under-steward's face glowed to a dull red of resentment.

      "It's not my place to keep order," he said. "It was none of my business!"

      "No, it was nobody's business," sneered Taffendale. "Men like you were to sit at home, doing naught, while rascals and scoundrels were burning your neighbours' property Your business By God!—I'll tell you what's going to be my business. Come here you!" he cried, raising his voice, and waving his hand to the folk gathered about the grey heaps. "Come here, and hear what I've got to say, and go down to Martinsthorpe yonder and tell everybody. Tell them that Mark Taffendale says he'll neither rest day nor night till every man, woman, lad, lass, that had hand or part in last night's work has smarted for it! Tell them that he'll spend every penny of the sixty thousand pound he's worth to bring them to justice Tell them that he'll sell his land and lime-pits if need be to find money to punish 'em! Tell them that when the law's done with them he'll start in with his punishment—he'll follow them wherever they go; he'll make 'em marked men and marked women; he'll make them so that they'll be thankful СКАЧАТЬ