"He _could_," answered the lawyer; "but where's the man who _would?_ Only one who must die in any chance, and then none but a murderer, I should say."

"I don't know--I don't know that," said Ralph, rising with ill-concealed agitation, and stalking out of the room, without the curtest leave-taking.

VI. On Tuesday, Ralph was walking through Kendal on his northward journey.

The day was young. Ralph meant to take a meal at the old coaching house, the Woodman, in Kirkland, by the river Kent, and then push on till nightfall.

The horn of the incoming coach fell on his ear, and the coach itself--the Carlisle coach, laden with pa.s.sengers from back to front--swept into the courtyard of the inn at the moment he entered it afoot.

There was a little commotion there. A group of the serving folk, the maids in their caps, the ostlers bareheaded, and some occasional stable people were gathered near the taproom door. The driver of the coach got off his box and crushed into the middle of this company. His pa.s.sengers paused in their descent from the top to look over the heads of those who were on the ground.

"Drunk, surely," said one of these to another; "that proclamation was not unnecessary."

"Some poor straggler, sir; picked him up insensible and fetched him along," said one of the ostlers.

Ralph walked past the group to the threshold of the inn.

"Loosen his neckcloth!--here, take my brandy," said a pa.s.senger.

"Came from the North, seemingly, sir. Looks weak from want and a long journey."

"From the North?" asked the coachman; "I'll give him a seat in the coach to-night and take him home."

Ralph stepped back and looked over some of the people.

A man was lying on the ground, his head in a woman's lap.

It was Simeon Stagg.

CHAPTER XXIX. ROBBIE'S QUEST BEGUN.

When Robbie Anderson left Wythburn, his princ.i.p.al and immediate purpose was to overtake Simeon Stagg. It was of less consequence that he should trace and discover Ralph Ray. Clearly it had been Ralph's object on leaving home to keep out of reach of the authorities who were in pursuit of him. But there was no saying what course a man such as he might take in order to insure the safety of the people who were dear to him, and to whom he was dear. The family at Shoulthwaite Moss had been threatened with eviction. The ransom was Ralph's liberty. Sim had been sent to say so. But a graver issue lay close behind. This shadow of a great crime lay over Ralph's life. If Robbie could overtake Sim before Sim had time to overtake Ralph, he might prevent a terrible catastrophe. Even so fearless a man as Ralph was would surely hesitate if he knew, though but on hearsay, that perhaps a horrible accusation awaited him at Carlisle.

That accusation might be false--it must be false. Robbie believed he could swear that it was a lie if he stood before the Throne of Grace.

But of what avail was the innocence of the accused in days when an indictment was equal to a conviction!

Sim was an old man, or at least he was past his best. He was a frail creature, unable to travel fast. There was little doubt in the mind of the l.u.s.ty young dalesman as he took his "lang stroke o' the ground"

that before many hours had gone by Sim would be overtaken and brought back.

It was Sunday morning when little Liza Branthwaite ferreted Robbie out of the Red Lion, and it was no later than noon of the same day when Robbie began his journey. During the first few miles he could discover no trace of Sim. This troubled him a little, until he reflected that it was late at night when Sim started away, and that consequently the tailor would pa.s.s the little wayside villages un.o.bserved. After nine or ten miles had been covered, Robbie met with persons who had encountered Sim. The accounts given of him were as painful as they were in harmony with his character. Sim had shrunk from the salutations of those who knew him, and avoided with equal timidity the gaze of those by whom he was not known. The suspicion of being everywhere suspected was with the poor outcast abroad as well as at home.

Quickly as the darkness fell in on that Sunday in mid-winter, Robbie had travelled many miles before the necessity occurred to him of seeking lodgings for the night. He had intended to reach the little town of Winander that day, and he had done so. It was late, however, and after a frugal supper, Robbie went off to bed.

Early next day, Monday, the young dalesman set about inquiries among the townspeople as to whether a man answering to the description which he gave of Sim had been seen to pa.s.s through the town. Many persons declared that they had seen such a one the day before, and some insisted that he was still in Winander. An old fellow in a smock, who, being obviously beyond all active labor, employed his time and energies in the pa.s.sive occupation of watching everybody from the corner of a street, and in chatting with as many as had conversation to spend on his superannuated garrulity, affirmed very positively that he had talked with Sim as recently as an hour ago.

Right or wrong, this was evidence of Sim's whereabouts which Robbie felt that he could not ignore. He must at least test its truthfulness by walking through the streets and inquiring further. It would be idle to travel on until this clew had been cleared up.

And so Robbie spent almost the whole day in what proved to be a fruitless search. It was apparent that if Sim had been in Winander he had left it on Sunday. Robbie reflected with vexation that it was now the evening of Monday, and that he was farther behind the man of whom he was in pursuit than he had been at starting from Wythburn.

In no very amiable mood Robbie set out afresh just as darkness was coming on, and followed the road as far as the village of Staveley.

Here there was nothing more hopeful to do at a late hour on Monday night than to seek for a bed and sleep. On Tuesday morning Robbie lost no time in making inquiries, but he wasted several hours in ascertaining particulars that were at all reliable and satisfactory.

No one appeared to have seen such a man as Sim, either to-day, yesterday, or on Sunday.

Robbie was perplexed. He was in doubt if it might not be his best course to turn back, when a happy inspiration occurred to him.

What had the people said of Sim's shyness and timidity? Why, it was as clear as noonday that the poor little man would try to avoid the villages by making a circuit of the fields about them.

With this conviction, Robbie set out again, intending to make no pause in his next stage until he had reached Kendal. Upon approaching the villages he looked about for the footpaths that might be expected to describe short arcs around them; and, following one of these, he pa.s.sed a cottage that stood at a corner of a lane. He had made many fruitless inquiries. .h.i.therto, and had received replies that had been worse than valueless; but he could not resist the temptation to ask at this house.

Walking round the cottage to where the door opened on the front farthest from the lane, Robbie entered the open porch. His unfamiliar footstep brought from an inner room an old woman with a brown and wrinkled face, who curtsied, and, speaking in a meek voice, asked, or seemed to ask, his pleasure.

"Your pardon, mistress," said Robbie, "but mayhap you've seen a little man with gray hair and a long beard going by?"

"Do you say a laal man?" asked the old woman.

"Ey, wrinkled and wizzent a bit?" said Robbie.

"Yes," said the woman.

Robbie was uncertain as to what the affirmation implied. Taking it to be a sort of request for a more definite description, he continued,--

"A blate and fearsome sort of a fellow, you know."

"Yes," repeated the woman, and then there was a pause.

Robbie, getting impatient of the delay, was turning on his heel with scant civility, when the old woman said, "Are you seeking him for aught that is good?"

"Why, ey, mother," said Robbie, regaining his former position and his accustomed geniality in an instant. "Do you know his name?" she asked.

"Sim--that's to say Sim Stagg. Don't you fear me, mother; I'm a friend to Sim, take my word."

"You're a good-like sort of a lad, I think," said the old woman; "Sim was here ower the night last night."

"Where is he now?" said Robbie.

"He left me this morning at t' edge o' t' daylight. He axed for t'

coach to Lancaster, and I telt him it started frae the Woodman, in Kirklands, and so he went off there."

"Kirklands; where's Kirklands?"

"In Kendal, near the church."

It turned out that the good old woman had known Sim many years before, when they were neighbors in a street of a big town. She had been with Sim's wife in her last illness, and had cared for his little daughter when the child's mother died.