Accused Of Murder

I need not prolong my narrative by telling you in what way I spent that first night in the cold solitude of my prison cell, or by recording the thoughts that occupied my mind through those long and weary hours. My jailer, one Jimmy Macfarlane, an honest, kind-hearted man, who had known my father, gave me a basin of hot porridge before he locked me up for the night, and left with me, as though by accident, a good, thick horse cloth to keep me warm. Conscious of my innocence, and trusting in the justice of my accusers, I slept well and soundly, nor did I awake until late on the following morning, when the Sabbath light stole through the crossbars of the little window, and the opening of the door aroused me.

I heard Macfarlane speaking with some one.

“Ye’ll find him in here, captain; but dinna stay ower long wi’ him; for, ye ken, I’m breakin’ the rule in letting ye see the lad.”

“All right, Jimmy!” said a voice that I at once recognized as that of Captain Flett.

“Well, Ericson, my lad,” he said, entering the cell and offering me his hand. “They’ve not put the hangman’s rope round your neck yet, I see.”

Then he added in a more serious tone, “Come, I canna stay with you long. Let us talk the affair over, and see what’s to be done.”

“First of all then,” I said, “I want to know what it’s all about. Why have they put me in here?”

“What! have they not told you the particulars?”

“No; I know nothing but that old Colin Lothian has been murdered.”

“And ye dinna ken who it was that murdered him? Tell me the truth now.”

“I know nothing at all about it,” I said.

“Well, then, I’ll just tell you all that I know myself, Ericson.”

And sitting down beside me on an old box that was in the cell, the skipper proceeded with his account of the affair, of which the following is the substance.

On the afternoon following that of the beginning of the snowstorm, Captain Flett waited for me on the schooner, for he wanted to set sail again. Every now and then he went up the companion ladder to look out for me towards the snow-covered town. While thus engaged he heard the boatswain’s whistle sounded on board the revenue cutter, then lying in the outer bay, and he was admiring the alertness of the blue jackets as they got the cutter ready for sailing, when a small boat that he had not noticed came alongside of the Falcon, and Bailie Duke accosted him.

“Captain Flett,” said the bailie excitedly, “I want the lad Ericson; where is he?”

“’Deed I can’t tell you that, your honour,” replied Flett. “I have been waiting for him here mysel’ all the day.”

“Just as I expected,” said the bailie, with evident annoyance; “the young rascal has escaped. When did you last see him, captain?”

“I saw him yestreen, sir. But was it anything of importance you’re wanting the lad for?”

“Anything of importance! Ay, is it of importance! For, know you this, Captain Flett, the lad’s nothing but a murderer, a murderer in cold blood!”

“Impossible!” ejaculated the skipper. “When heard you of the lad harming body or beast? But who is it that’s murdered, bailie?”

“Colin Lothian, the gaberlunzie,” replied the magistrate.

“Man, you astonish me,” exclaimed Flett. “Poor auld Lothian! And when did the thing happen?”

Bailie Duke then told how during that morning a party of men had been sent up from the town to the moor to search for the lost Thora Kinlay. They did not find the girl. But Jack Paterson and another fisherman, while crossing a very lonely part of the moor, had discovered a poor dog, whose pitiful whining had drawn them to the spot. The animal was at once recognized as the dog that had always been seen at the heels of the wandering beggar, and it stood shivering in the cold snow that had gathered there in a deep wreath. The dog refused to move from the spot, and the men cleared away some of the snow, when they came upon the stiff and lifeless body of Colin Lothian.

At first they thought the man was merely asleep, for his woollen plaid was spread over him like a blanket. But on raising the garment they saw marks of blood that had trickled upon the snow and sunk down into the underlying heather. Paterson at once despatched his companion to Stromness for Dr. Linklater, whilst he himself went up to a small cottage which stood about two hundred yards away. Nobody was in the cottage, but there were signs of some one having been there very recently, for the peats were yet smouldering on the hearthstone, and on a little table lay a towel stained with blood.

Dr. Linklater arrived sooner than Paterson expected him, and after a careful examination of the body he stated that Lothian had been dead several hours, and that his death was the result of foul play. The man had, in fact, been murdered.

“I’m real sorry to hear this, sir,” said Flett to the bailie. “It was only yestreen I was speakin’ wi’ poor Colin at the inn. He’ll be sorely missed in the countryside. But tell me, Mr. Duke, what for d’ye say that young Ericson has anything to do wi’ it?”

“Because,” the magistrate replied, “simply because the gun that the man was shot with was found near the spot where he died. That gun, captain, is identified as Halcro Ericson’s.”

“But surely ye canna convict the lad on such slight evidence, sir. He’s innocent, I’ll swear!”

“I trust he may prove so, captain. But you must allow that the evidence is against him. Colin has been shot dead, and with Ericson’s gun. Ericson is not to be found; no one knows where he is. That is clearly against him; and as a magistrate I am bound to arrest him on suspicion. In fact, I have already issued a warrant for his arrest, and if you know anything of his whereabouts, just say so, Davie; for the lad’s not at his home, and his mother knows nothing. They say he is out seeking for young Thora Kinlay; but it seems clear to me that he has fled from the consequences of his foul crime.”

“Well,” said Flett, “I have told you all I know, that the lad left the schooner here before the snow came on so heavy. I have been expecting him aboard all the day. I know no more, Mr. Duke, and that’s the truth.”

At this point of my skipper’s account we were interrupted by Macfarlane, who put his head in at the door and said:

“Come away, Davie. I canna let ye stay longer, man.”

“Ay, ay, just another minute, Jimmy,” said Flett.

Then turning to me again, he continued: “Weel, I’m just away up to Dominie Drever’s. The dominie was aboard the Falcon just before the Clasper came in yestreen, and I saw him again after ye were brought here. He was up at Lyndardy this mornin’ seeing your mother for information about all your movements these two days past. And now I’m to go up to the schoolhouse and tell him-what shall I tell him, Halcro?”

“Just tell him this, Davie: that the last time I saw poor Colin Lothian was when we were in Gray’s Inn. That I went straight home from the Falcon, and never left the house till the servant woman at Crua Breck knocked me up to seek for Thora. That I was out looking for her part of the night and all the morning, and then that I climbed down the Gaulton Cliff, thinking I would find her in the cave. There, instead of finding Thora, I was taken along with the smugglers and brought in the Clasper to Stromness, where Bailie Duke himself arrested me.

“There, that is the sum of it all. Tell it to Mr. Drever, and he will believe it and understand.”

“Very good,” said the skipper, and then he left me.

He had not gone out many minutes before Jimmy Macfarlane came into the apartment and made a fire in the grate, and brought me water to wash myself, and a good breakfast of coffee and fried bacon. When I was made comfortable he left me alone again, and only disturbed me during the rest of the day to bring in my meals or more fuel for the fire.