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Updated: June 7, 2025
Though supposed to be an Austrian, little was known about him or his antecedents except that he owned the next half-section of land to Jernyngham's and farmed it successfully. It was, however, believed that he was of an unusually grasping nature, and his neighbors took precautions when they made a deal with him.
"Well," he said coolly, "there's no doubt about whose this is." He handed it to Prescott. "Ever see it in Jernyngham's possession?" "Yes," answered Prescott with some hesitation. "I recognize the address, though the English stamp has gone. It was lying near when he was talking to me on the night of the trouble in Sebastian." He was filled with uneasiness.
She paused irresolutely, and then resumed: "He has taken a magazine pistol, though I believe it's the first time he has carried it." Colston looked grave. He determined, if possible, to abstract the pistol and hide it on Jernyngham's return. "I'm very sorry. It must be trying for you. Indeed, I wonder anxiously where all this is leading us."
Jernyngham's poignant sense of loss and regret for past harshness to his son had merged into an overwhelming desire for vengeance on the man whom he regarded as Cyril's murderer. He was left without an ally; the organized means of justice had signally broken down; but the man should not go unpunished. Tormented by his thoughts, he went out in search of Gertrude.
Flight would mean ruin: he could not dispose of his property before he went without attracting attention, and it would, in all probability, lead to his arrest. He must stay and face the matter out. First of all, he tried to estimate the risk of his being recognized as the man who had sold Jernyngham's land.
The moisture, however, had not penetrated far enough into the fine wood-ash for the rest to freeze, so that he was soon able to use the shovel and during the next half-hour he flung a quantity of the stuff into his wagon. As he did so he looked out for Jernyngham's cash-box, and grew surprised when it did not appear.
In a few moments, however, Jernyngham's face grew graver. "Jack," he resumed, "I'm in a hole. Never troubled to ask for my letters until late in the afternoon, and now I don't know what to do unless you can help me." "You had better tell me what the trouble is." "To make you understand, I'll have to go back some time.
The others had fixed their eyes on him, and did not notice Muriel move quietly through the shadow of the wooden pillars. "I have nothing to confess," he said. Jernyngham's fur coat was open and his hand dropped quickly to a pocket. As he brought it out Colston sprang forward, a moment too late; but Muriel was before him, her hand on the man's arm.
The officer took up the boot and one of the paper patterns. "There's a doubt. I suppose he knows you have his boot?" The corporal's eyes twinkled faintly. "I guess he'll miss it sometime." "It's possible. But what else have you against him?" "Prescott stands to profit by Jernyngham's death: he has control of the holding until the year's up, and it's a pretty good crop.
Jernyngham's nerves had given way beneath the strain he had borne, and he now stood up, trembling with anger. "Am I to understand that you intend to leave the fellow alone? Now, when he is within your reach, you will not arrest him? The scoundrel killed my son!" "Might I suggest your sitting down again?" said the officer calmly. "Let me try to put the matter before you as we look at it.
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