LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

said Jack, renewing the conversation.

      “With the poachers? To be sure I did. Wasn’t I called in to examine Hugh Badger’s wounds the first thing this morning; and a deep cut there was, just over the eye, besides other bruises.”

      “Is the wound dangerous?” inquired Palmer.

      “Not exactly mortal, if you mean that,” replied the Irishman; “dangerous, certainly.”

      “Humph!” exclaimed Jack; “they’d a pretty hardish bout of it, I understand. Anything been heard of the body?”

      “What body?” inquired Small, who was half-dozing.

      “The body of the drowned poacher,” replied Jack; “they were off to search for it this morning.”

      “Found it — not they!” exclaimed Titus. “Ha, ha! — I can’t help laughing, for the life and sowl of me; a capital trick he played ’em — capital — ha, ha! What do you think the fellow did? Ha, ha! — after leading ’em the devil’s dance, all around the park, killing a hound as savage as a wolf, and breaking Hugh Badger’s head, which is as hard and thick as a butcher’s block, what does the fellow do but dive into a pool, with a great rock hanging over it, and make his way to the other side, through a subterranean cavern, which nobody knew anything about, till they came to drag it, thinking him snugly drowned all the while — ha, ha!”

      “Ha, ha, ha!” chorused Jack; “bravo! he’s a lad of the right sort — ha, ha!”

      “He! who?” inquired the attorney.

      “Why, the poacher, to be sure,” replied Jack; “who else were we talking about?”

      “Beg pardon,” returned Coates; “I thought you might have heard some intelligence. We’ve got an eye upon him. We know who it was.”

      “Indeed!” exclaimed Jack; “and who was it?”

      “A fellow known by the name of Luke Bradley.”

      “Zounds!” cried Titus, “you don’t say it was he? Murder in Irish! that bates everything; why, he was Sir Piers’s ——”

      “Natural son,” replied the attorney; “he has not been heard of for some time — shockingly incorrigible rascal — impossible to do anything with him.”

      “You don’t say so?” observed Jack. “I’ve heard Sir Piers speak of the lad; and, by his account, he’s as fine a fellow as ever crossed tit’s back; only a little wildish and unreasonable, as the best of us may be; wants breaking, that’s all. Your skittish colt makes the best horse, and so would he. To speak the truth, I’m glad he escaped.”

      “So am I,” rejoined Titus; “for, in the first place, I’ve a foolish partiality for poachers, and am sorry when any of ’em come to hurt; and, in the second, I’d be mighty displeased if any ill had happened to one of Sir Piers’s flesh and blood, as this young chap appears to be.”

      “Appears to be!” repeated Palmer; “there’s no appearing in the case, I take it. This Bradley’s an undoubted offshoot of the old squire. His mother was a servant-maid at the hall, I rather think. You sir,” continued he, addressing Coates, “perhaps, can inform us of the real facts of the case.”

      “She was something better than a servant,” replied the attorney, with a slight cough and a knowing wink. “I remember her quite well, though I was but a boy then; a lovely creature, and so taking, I don’t wonder that Sir Piers was smitten with her. He was mad after the women in those days, and pretty Sue Bradley above all others. She lived with him quite like his lady.”

      “So I’ve heard,” returned Jack; “and she remained with him till her death. Let me see, wasn’t there something rather odd in the way in which she died, rather suddenish and unexpected — a noise made about it at the time, eh?”

      “Not that I ever heard,” replied Coates, shaking his head, and appearing to be afflicted with an instantaneous ignorance; while Titus affected not to hear the remark, but occupied himself with his wine-glass. Small snored audibly. “I was too young, then, to pay any attention to idle rumors,” continued Coates. “It’s a long time ago. May I ask the reason of your inquiry?”

      “Nothing further than simple curiosity,” replied Jack, enjoying the consternation of his companions. “It is, as you say, a long while since. But it’s singular how that sort of thing is remembered. One would think people had something else to do than talk of one’s private affairs for ever. For my part, I despise such tattle. But there are persons in the neighborhood who still say it was an awkward business. Amongst others, I’ve heard that this very Luke Bradley talks in pretty plain terms about it.”

      “Does he, indeed?” said Coates. “So much the worse for him. Let me once lay hands upon him, and I’ll put a gag in his mouth that shall spoil his talking in the future.”

      “That’s precisely the point I desire to arrive at,” replied Jack; “and I advise you by all means to accomplish that, for the sake of the family. Nobody likes his friends to be talked about. So I’d settle the matter amicably, were I you. Just let the fellow go his way; he won’t return here again in a hurry, I’ll be bound. As to clapping him in quod, he might prattle — turn stag.”

      “Turn stag!” replied Coates, “what the deuce is that? In my opinion, he has ‘turned stag’ already. At all events, he’ll pay deer for his night’s sport, you may depend upon it. What signifies it what he says? Let me lay hands upon him, that’s all.”

      “Well, well,” said Jack, “no offence. I only meant to offer a suggestion. I thought the family, young Sir Ranulph, I mean, mightn’t like the story to be revived. As to Lady Rookwood, she don’t, I suppose, care much about idle reports. Indeed, if I’ve been rightly informed, she bears this youngster no particular good-will to begin with, and has tried hard to get him out of the country. But, as you say, what does it signify what he says? he can only talk. Sir Piers is dead and gone.”

      “Humph!” muttered Coates, peevishly.

      “But it does seem a little hard, that a lad should swing for killing a bit of venison in his own father’s park.”

      “Which he’d a nat’ral right to do,” cried Titus.

      “He had no natural right to bruise, violently assault, and endanger the life of his father’s, or anybody else’s gamekeeper,” retorted Coates. “I tell you, sir, he’s committed a capital offence, and if he’s taken ——”

      “No chance of that, I hope,” interrupted Jack.

      “That’s a wish I can’t help wishing myself,” said Titus: “on my conscience, these poachers are fine boys, when all’s said and done.”

      “The finest of all boys,” exclaimed Jack, with a kindred enthusiasm, “are those birds of the night, and minions of the moon, whom we call, most unjustly, poachers. They are, after all, only professional sportsmen, making a business of what we make a pleasure; a nightly pursuit of what is to us a daily relaxation; there’s the main distinction. As to the rest, it’s all in idea; they merely thin an overstocked park, as you would reduce a plethoric patient, doctor; or as you would work a moneyed client, if you got him into Chancery, Mister Attorney. And then how much more scientifically and systematically they set to work than we amateurs do! how noiselessly they bag a hare, smoke a pheasant, or knock a buck down with an air-gun! how independent are they of any license, except that of a good eye, and a swift pair of legs! how unnecessary is it for them to ask permission to shoot over Mr. So-and-so’s grounds, or my Lord That’s preserves! they are free of every cover, and indifferent to any alteration in the game laws. I’ve some thoughts, when everything else fails, of taking to poaching myself. In my opinion, a poacher’s a highly respectable character. What say you, Mr. Coates?” turning very gravely to that gentleman.

      “Such a question, sir,” replied Coates,

Скачать книгу