<h2> <SPAN name="XVIII"> </SPAN> CHAPTER XVIII. <br/><br/> <span class="small"> A FLASH OF LIGHT. </span> </h2>
<p>The Carrier, with a decisive gesture, ceased from both solid and
liquid food, and settled his face, and whole body, and members into a
grim and yet flexible aspect, as if he were driving a half-broken
horse, and must be prepared for any sort of start. And yet with all
this he reconciled a duly receptive deference, and a pleasant
readiness, as if he were his own Dobbin, just fresh from stable.</p>
<p>"I need not tell you, Master Cripps," said Russel, "how I have picked
up the many little things, which have been coming to my knowledge
lately. And I will not be too positive about any of them; because I
made such a mistake in the beginning of this inquiry. All my
suspicions at first were set on a man who was purely innocent—a legal
gentleman of fair repute, to whom I have now made all honourable
amends. In the most candid manner he has forgiven me, and desires no
better than to act in the best faith with us."</p>
<p>"Asking your pardon for interrupting—did the gentleman happen to have
a sharp name?"</p>
<p>"Yes, Cripps, he did. But no more of that. I was over sharp myself, no
doubt; he is thoroughly blameless, and more than that, his behaviour
has been most generous, most unwearying, most—— I never can do
justice to him."</p>
<p>"Well, your Worship, no—perhaps not. A would take a rare sharp un to
do so."</p>
<p>"You hold by the vulgar prejudice—well, I should be the last to blame
you. That, however, has nothing to do with what I want to ask you. But
first, I must tell you my reason, Cripps. You know I have no faith
whatever in that man John Smith. At first I thought him a tool of
Mr.—never mind who—since I was so wrong. I am now convinced that
John Smith is 'art and part' in the whole affair himself. He has
thrown dust in our eyes throughout. He has stopped us from taking the
proper track. Do you remember what discredit he threw on your sister's
story?"</p>
<p>"He didn't believe a word of un. Had a good mind, I had, to a' knocked
un down."</p>
<p>"To be sure, Cripps, I wonder that you forbore. Though violent
measures must not be encouraged. And I myself thought that your sister
might have made some mistakes through her scare in the dark. Poor
thing! Her hair can have wanted no bandoline ever since, I should
fancy. What a brave girl too not to shriek or faint!"</p>
<p>"Well, her did goo zummut queer, sir, and lie down in the quarry-pit.
Perhaps 'twas the wisest thing the poor young wench could do."</p>
<p>"No doubt it was—the very wisest. However, before she lost her wits
she noticed, as I understand her to say—or rather she was
particularly struck with the harsh cackling voice of the taller man,
who also had a pointed hat, she thinks. It was not exactly a cackling
voice, nor a clacking voice, nor a guttural voice, but something
compounded of all three. Your sister, of course, could not quite so
describe it; but she imitated it; which was better."</p>
<p>"Her hath had great advantages. Her can imitate a'most anything. Her
waited for months on a College-chap, the very same in whose house we
be sitting now."</p>
<p>"Cripps, that is strange. But to come back again. Your sister, who is
a very nice girl, indeed, and a good member of a good family——"</p>
<p>"Ay, your Worship, that her be. Wish a could come across the man as
would dare to say the contrairy!"</p>
<p>"Now, Cripps, we never shall get on, while you are so horribly
warlike. Are you ready to listen to me, or not?"</p>
<p>"Every blessed word, your Worship, every blessed word goeth down; unto
such time as you begins to spake of things at home to me."</p>
<p>"Such dangerous topics I will avoid. And now for the man with this
villainous voice. You knew, or at any rate now you know, that I never
was satisfied with that wretched affair that was called an 'Inquest.'
Inquest a non inquirendo—but I beg your pardon, my good Cripps.
Enough that the whole was pompous child's play, guided by crafty hands
beneath; as happens with most inquests. I only doubted the more,
friend Cripps; I only doubted the more, from having a wrong way taken
to extinguish doubts."</p>
<p>"To be sure, your Worship; a lie on the back of another lie makes un
go heavier."</p>
<p>"Well, never mind; only this I did. For a few days perhaps I was
overcome; and the illness of my dear old friend, the Squire, and the
trouble of managing so that he should not hear anything to kill him;
and my own slowness at the back of it all; for I never, as you know,
am hasty—these things, one and another, kept me from going on
horseback anywhere."</p>
<p>"To be sure, your Worship, to be sure. You ought to be always
a-horseback. I've a-seed you many times on the Bench; but you looks a
very poor stick there compared to what 'ee be a-horseback."</p>
<p>"Now, Cripps, where is your reverence? You call me 'your Worship,' and
in the same breath contemn my judicial functions. I must commit you
for a week's hard labour at getting in and out of your own cart, if
you will not allow me to speak, Cripps. At last I have frightened you,
have I? Then let me secure the result in silence. Well, after the
weather began to change from that tremendous frost and snow, and the
poor Squire fell into the quiet state that he has been in ever since,
I found that nothing would do for me, my health not being quite as
usual——"</p>
<p>"Oh, your Worship was wonderfully kind; they told me you was as good
as any old woman in the room almost!"</p>
<p>"Except to take long rides, Cripps, nothing at all would do for me.
And, not to speak of myself too much, I believe that saved me from
falling into a weak, and spooney, and godless state. I assure you
there were times—however, never mind that, I am all right now,
and——"</p>
<p>"Thank the Lord! you ought to say, sir; but you great Squires upon the
bench——"</p>
<p>"Thank the Lord! I do say, Cripps; I thank Him every day for it. But
if I may edge in a word, in your unusually eloquent state, I will tell
you just what happened to me. I never believed, and never will, that
poor Miss Oglander is dead. The coroner and the jury believed that
they had her remains before them, although for the Squire's sake they
forbore to identify her in the verdict. Your sister, no doubt,
believed the same; and so did almost every one. I could not go, I
could not go—no doubt I was a fool; but I could not face the chance
of what I might see, after what I had heard of it. Well, I began to
ride about, saying nothing of course to any one. And the more I rode,
the more my spirit and faith in good things came back to me. And I
think I have been rewarded, Cripps; at last I have been rewarded. It
is not very much; but still it is like a flash of light to me. I have
found out the man with the horrible voice."</p>
<p>"Lord have mercy upon me! your Worship—the man as laid hold of the
pick-axe!"</p>
<p>"I have found him, Cripps, I do believe. But rather by pure luck than
skill."</p>
<p>"There be no such thing as luck, your Worship; if you will excoose me.
The Lord in heaven is the master of us!"</p>
<p>"Upon my word, it looks almost like it, though I never took that view
of things. However, this was the way of it. To-day is Saturday. Well,
it was last Wednesday night, I was coming home from a long, and wet,
and muddy ride to Maidenhead. That little town always pleases me; and
I like the landlord and the hostler, and I am sure that my horse is
fed——"</p>
<p>"Your Worship must never think such a thing, without you see it mixed,
and feel it, and watch him a-munching, until he hath done."</p>
<p>"More than that, I have always fancied, ever since that story was
about the bag of potatoes you brought, without knowing any more of
it—ever since I heard of that, it has seemed to me that more
inquiries ought to be made at Maidenhead. I need not say why; but I
know that the Squire's opinion had been the same, as long as—I mean
while—his health permitted. On Wednesday I went to the foreman of the
nursery whence the potatoes came. It was raining hard, and he was in a
shed, with a green baize apron on, seeing to some potting work. I got
him away from the other men, and I found him a very sharp fellow
indeed. He remembered all about those potatoes, especially as Squire
Oglander had ridden from Oxford, in the snowy weather, to ask many
questions about them. But the Squire could not put the questions I
did. The poor old gentleman could not bear, of course, to expose his
trouble. But I threw away all little scruples (as truly I should have
done long ago), and I told the good foreman every word, so far as we
know it yet, at least. He was shocked beyond expression—people take
things in such different ways—not at the poor Squire's loss and
anguish, but that anybody should have dared to meddle with his own pet
'oakleafs,' and, above all, his new pet seal.</p>
<p>"'I sealed them myself,' he said, 'sealed them myself, sir, with the
new coat of arms that we paid for that month, because of the tricks of
the trade, sir! Has anybody dared to imitate——' 'No, Mr. Foreman,' I
said, 'they simply cut away your seal altogether, and tied it again,
without any seal.' 'Oh, then,' he replied, 'that quite alters the
case. If they had only meddled with our new arms, while the money was
hot that we paid for them, what a case we might have had! But to knock
them off—no action lies.'</p>
<p>"Cripps, it took me a very long time to warm him up to the matter
again, after that great disappointment. He was burning for some great
suit at law against some rival nursery, which always pays the upstart
one; but I led him round, and by patient words and simple truth
brought him back to reason. The packing of the bag he remembered well,
and the pouring of a lot of buck-wheat husks around and among the
potato sets, to keep them from bruising, and to keep out frost, which
seemed even then to be in the air. And he sent his best man to the
Oxford coach, the first down coach from London, which passed by their
gate about ten o'clock, and would be in Oxford about two, with the
weather and the roads as usual. In that case, the bag could scarcely
have been at the Black Horse more than half an hour before you came
and laid hold of it; and being put into the bar, as the Squire's
parcels always are, it was very unlikely to be tampered with."</p>
<p>"Lord a' mercy! your Worship, it was witchcraft then! The same as I
said all along; it were witches' craft, and nothing else."</p>
<p>"Stop, Cripps, don't you be in such a hurry. But wait till you hear
what I have next to tell. But oh, here comes my friend Hardenow, as
punctual as the clock strikes two! Well, old fellow, how are you
getting on?"</p>
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