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Updated: June 8, 2025
George Hamon and Amice Le Couteur, the Sénéchal, from La Tour, were just coming down the lane, and every man carried such arms as he could muster. "They're coming!" I shouted, and Amice Le Couteur, panting with his haste from the north, took command in virtue of his office, since Peter Le Pelley, the Seigneur, was away in London. "How many, Phil Carré?" he asked.
Peter Mauger had kept himself carefully beyond the range of Julie's wild black eyes. In the state she was in there was no knowing what she might do or say. And the words even of a mad woman sometimes stick like burrs. He began to breathe more freely when she whirled away home. The Sénéchal and Constable came out of the school-house at last with very grave faces.
"However, we'll hope for the best, and I think the Sénéchal and I ought to be able to see Gard through without any very disastrous results. If we succeed, he will deserve better of this Island than any man I know and a sight more than this Island deserves of him. I quite understand," he said, as Gard looked quickly up. "And it does you credit, my boy; but there are not very many men would do it."
His life was sought by the law, and would certainly be forfeited if he was found. I must find George Hamon at once. "Are they fighting still at Dixcart?" I asked the Guernsey man. "There was firing over yonder as we came along," he said, pointing to the south-west. "But it is finished now." "That was their chief attack. The Sénéchal was shot at Eperquerie. George Hamon is in charge at Dixcart.
"What were you doing down at the Coupée at that time of night?" asked the Sénéchal. "I had been having a smoke and was just about to turn in when I met Miss Hamon hurrying to the Doctor's for some medicine. I asked her permission to accompany her, and then took her home to Little Sark. It was when I was coming back that I met Tom Hamon."
"'Tweren't Gard killed him, then," said one of the diners, chewing over that thought with his last mouthful. "Nor Tom neither, then, maybe," said another. "We've bin on wrong tack, then;" and they went off round the corner at a speed their build would hardly have credited them with. One to the Sénéchal and one to the Doctor, and then to the Creux, both telling the news as they went.
The Sénéchal was busy planting late cabbages and time was precious. The grave-faced fisherman, who had stood behind the crowd, tramped up the narrow road by his side. "Well, Carré, you're rid of him. I hope for good," said the Sénéchal. "Before God, I hope so, M. le Sénéchal! He has a devil." "How goes it with Mistress Rachel this morning?" "She says little." "But thinks the more, no doubt.
All the same, when the other sprang up and would have passed into the cottage, Hamon declined to move, and when Martel persisted, he struck at him with his fist, and it looked as though the fight were to be renewed. "He makes Clameur, George," said Philip Tanquerel remonstratively. "He may make fifty Clameurs for me. Let him go to the Sénéchal and the Greffier and lay the matter before them.
They wanted to find out all about it. The Doctor stood up and confirmed what the Sénéchal had said, went somewhat more into detail to substantiate his opinion, and ended by saying, "The head, as it happens, is less bruised than any other part of the body, except on the crown, and that is practically beaten in, and not, I am prepared to swear, by a fall.
And, after much discussion, following out his idea, he and the Sénéchal and the Doctor, who could bowl over a rabbit as well as any of them, lay in the heather, on the common above the cutting on the Little Sark side, for many nights, guns in hand, and eyes and ears on the strain, but saw and heard nothing.
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