The Unknown Wrestler Part 42

"Yes, I suppose so, providing you are brief and to the point," was the somewhat reluctant a.s.sent.

"I have been very much surprised at this enquiry," Douglas began, "and I wish to call attention to certain matters which have been pa.s.sed over without any consideration at all. These men before you, sir, have pleaded guilty to the charges which I made against them. They have confessed that they were given liquor and ordered to attack me last Friday night. But you have not asked them who the person is who ordered the attack and gave them the whiskey. Is it not right that you should do so, sir, that we may know who was really at the bottom of that cowardly affair?"

"Hear, hear," came from several in the audience. "You are right. Let us know the person's name."

"Your question has no bearing upon this case," Squire Hawkins angrily replied. "These offenders have acknowledged their guilt, and they alone are the responsible ones and must bear the whole blame."

"But why did they attack me?" Douglas asked. "They had no ill will against me; they were merely tools in the hands of another. The one who set them on evidently wished to do me an injury. He is the guilty one, and I demand that you inquire who he is."

"Then you can keep on demanding," was the surly response. "I am conducting this case and not you."

A murmur of disapproval pa.s.sed through the audience, and several cries of "Shame" were heard. Squire Hawkins was feeling very angry and at the same time uneasy. He was between two fires. He was afraid of the people, and yet he had a greater fear of the Stubbles. As he hesitated, not knowing what to do, Tom Totten cleared his throat and turned partly around.

"If yez want to know who put us on to that nasty job, I'll tell yez,"

he began. "It was Ben Stubbles who did it. He gave us the whiskey, an' ordered us to waylay Jake Jukes' hired man an' beat him up. That's G.o.d's truth, an' we are all ready to swear to it."

During the inquiry Ben had entered the hall and remained near the door.

He listened to all that took place with much amus.e.m.e.nt. He felt perfectly secure and trusted to Squire Hawkins to s.h.i.+eld him from any blame. He enjoyed Douglas' apparent defeat when his request was refused. But Tom's voluntary information was entirely unexpected. He had never for an instant imagined that the man would dare make such a statement. His momentary consternation gave way to furious anger and he at once hurried up the aisle.

"What in h---- are you giving us?" he demanded from Tom. "What do you mean by bringing my name into this affair?"

Tom stared in amazement at the irate man before him, for he could hardly believe his senses. Then his eyes blazed with indignation as he grasped the significance of the scoundrel's words.

"I've been givin' the truth, Ben Stubbles," he replied, "an' ye know it as well as we do."

"You lie," and Ben stamped hard upon the floor in his rage. "You were beastly drunk, got into trouble, and then lay the blame on me. That's a nice way to do things."

Douglas could hardly control himself at these brazen words. Jake, sitting by his side, was wriggling and muttering many "Great punkins!"

under his breath. In fact, the entire a.s.sembly was becoming restless and ready for almost anything. But Tom remained remarkably calm. He took a step forward and faced the Squire.

"Ye hear what Ben says, sir," he began, "an' ye've heard what we've said. It's six to one, an' we're ready to swear any time on the Good Book that what we've told ye is true. Which d'ye believe; him or us?"

The Squire now was in a worse fix than ever. He mopped his perspiring forehead with a big handkerchief and looked helplessly around. He longed for the platform to open and swallow him up. But no such miraculous relief was granted. The issue was before him, and he knew he had to face it.

"I--I think I shall reserve judgment," he stammered, "until I have given this matter due consideration."

"But we want ye to decide now, sir," Tom insisted. "We want to know what ye're goin' to do before we leave the hall. It's six to one, an'

any kid could figger that out, without waitin'."

"Hear, hear," came from several in the room.

"But I must have time to think it out carefully," the Squire replied.

"You were drunk when you made the attack, and it was easy then for you to imagine almost anything."

"But we weren't drunk, sir, when Ben met us that night, an' gave us the whiskey, an' told us what to do, was we?" and he turned to his companions.

"No, no," came as one from the lined-up men.

As Squire Hawkins' eyes wandered first from the six men to Ben and then back again in an uncertain manner, an idea suddenly flashed into his mind. He grasped it in an instant.

"Look here," he demanded. "I am not dealing with Mr. Benjamin Stubbles now, but with you six men who, according to your own confession, made the attack. If necessary, I can take up his case later. You are the men I have been called upon to try, and not Mr. Stubbles. I, therefore, declare you guilty of waylaying one, John Handyman by name, with the intention of afflicting bodily injury, and also of breaking into Professor Strong's house. These are very serious offences, but as this is the first time you have been before me I shall make the penalty very light, and impose the fine of only ten dollars upon each of you.

That is my decision, and I hope you are satisfied."

Douglas was upon his feet in an instant.

"You are perverting justice," he cried. "You know who is the guilty man and you are letting him go free. I demand that you give a different judgment, or at least be man enough to acknowledge that you are afraid to give any decision against Ben Stubbles."

"Hear, hear," came from all parts of the room, and in the excitement that followed, Squire Hawkins declared the trial ended and left the building with Ben as quickly as possible.

Douglas was thoroughly disgusted at the farce he had just witnessed.

He was somewhat disheartened as well. What hope had he of accomplis.h.i.+ng anything when the man appointed to administer British justice exhibited such a spirit of partiality and cringing cowardice?

The men around him were greatly excited, though he felt that nothing could be expected from them. They might storm and rage at the injustice, but they would bow their necks as in the past to the Stubbles' yoke and endure every indignity.

Leaving the hall and the babel of voices, he hurried up the road. The unpolluted air was refres.h.i.+ng and he became calmer. Presently an idea flashed into his mind, which brought a flush to his cheeks and caused his eyes to kindle with a new hope. "Strange I didn't think of it before," he mused. "But perhaps it is not too late yet. I shall try it, anyway."

CHAPTER XXVI

ON THE ROCKS

Charles Garton was seated in his cosy study smoking his after-dinner cigar. It was unusual for him to be alone at this hour of the evening, as his wife and children were generally with him. But he had been late coming from the office and by the time he had finished his dinner the children were put to bed, as this was the maid's evening out. Mrs.

Garton was attending a church "affair" and would not be home until ten, so she had phoned.

Garton was glad to be alone as it afforded him a quiet time for thought. As a rule he tried to leave his business concerns behind him when he left the office. But to-night it was different, and his eyes often turned toward two letters lying open on the little stand by his side. At length, picking up one of them, he read it again, and as he did so his face brightened and he gave a deep sigh of relief. But as he scanned the other his brow knitted in perplexity and, leaning back, he blew great wreaths of smoke into the air.

"Strange," he mused, "how that mine has recovered. I had given up all hope of getting anything from it, and now it is booming. My, won't Kit be surprised! I would feel happy to-night but for this other letter.

I wonder what I had better do about it. Things are certainly in a bad shape there. He's on the rocks sure enough, and will go to pieces if we don't come to his a.s.sistance, so he says."

Garton's reverie was broken by the clear insistent ring of the door-bell.

"Confound it!" he muttered, as he rose from the chair, and hurried out of the room. "Can't I have a little peace for one night at least?"

But no sooner had he thrown open the door than his tone of anger gave way to one of joy, when he beheld Douglas Stanton standing before him.

"Well, 'pon my word!" he cried, seizing his visitor by the arm and dragging him unceremoniously into the study. "Where in the world have you dropped from? And what duds! Where did you get them? And your face! My! it's some colour; bronzed, unshaven, and----"

"Unwashed," Douglas laughingly interrupted, as he threw himself into an easy chair. "Any more remarks to make, eh? I am afraid your manners haven't improved any more than my personal appearance since last we met."

"No, I haven't changed one bit, but you have," and Garton's eyes gazed approvingly upon his companion. "I would give almost anything to be as strong and husky as you are."

"Live as I have for the last few weeks and your wife won't know you,"

Douglas replied, as he reached out and helped himself to a cigar. "But how are Mrs. Garton and the kids? You seem to be keeping bachelor's hall. Anything wrong? Married life a failure?"

"No, not at all. The family are fine; children in bed and wife at a church 'tea fight.' But, we can talk about them when they show up. I want to know now about yourself, and how you have been making out.

It's a comfort, anyway, to know that you are alive."