CHAPTER IX
OUTSIDE EXETER GAOL
Within less than twelve hours of the time when she bid Chris farewell Phoebe Lyddon was Phoebe Lyddon no more. Will met her at Newton; they immediately proceeded to his uncle’s office; and the Registrar had made them man and wife in space of time so brief that the girl could hardly realise the terrific event was accomplished, and that henceforth she belonged to Will alone. Mr. Ford had his little joke afterwards in the shape of a wedding-breakfast and champagne. He was gratified at the event and rejoiced to be so handsomely and tremendously revenged on his unfortunate enemy. The young couple partook of the good things provided for them; but appetite was lacking to right enjoyment of the banquet, and Will and his wife much desired to escape and be alone.
Presently they returned to the station and arrived there before Phoebe’s train departed. Her husband then briefly explained the remarkable course of action he designed to pursue.
“You must be a braave gal and think none the worse of me. But’t is this way: I’ve broke law, and a month or two, or six, maybe, in gaol have got to be done. Your faither will see to that.”
“Prison! O, Will! For marryin’ me?”
“No, but for marryin’ you wi’out axin’ leave. Miller Lyddon told me the upshot of taking you, if I done it; an’ I have; an’ he’ll keep his word. So that’s it. I doan’t want to make no more trouble; an’ bein’ a man of resource I’m gwaine up to Exeter by first train, so soon as you’ve started. Then all bother in the matter will be saved Miller.”
“O Will! Must you?”
“Ess fay, ’t is my duty. I’ve thought it out through many hours. The time’ll soon slip off; an’ then I’ll come back an’ stand to work. Here’s a empty carriage. Jump in. I can sit along with ’e for a few minutes.”
“How ever shall I begin? How shall I break it to them, dearie?”
“Hold up your li’l hand,” said Will with a laugh. “Shaw ’em the gawld theer. That’ll speak for ’e. ’S truth!” he continued, with a gesture of supreme irritation, “but it’s a hard thing to be snatched apart like this—man an’ wife. If I was takin’ ’e home to some lew cot, all our very awn, how differ’nt ’t would be!”
“You will some day.”
“So I will then. I’ve got ’e for all time, an’ Jan Grimbal’s missed ’e for all time. Damned if I ban’t a’most sorry for un!”
“So am I—in a way—as you are. My heart hurts me to think of him. He’ll never forgive me.”
“Me, you mean. Well, ’t is man to man, an’ I ban’t feared of nothing on two legs. You just tell ’em that ’t was to be, that you never gived up lovin’ me, but was forced into lyin’ and such-like by the cruel way they pushed ’e. Shaw ’em the copy of the paper if they doan’t b’lieve the ring. An’ when Miller lifts up his voice to cuss me, tell un quiet that I knawed what must come of it, and be gone straight to Exeter Gaol to save un all further trouble. He’ll see then I’m a thinking, calculating man, though young in years.”
Phoebe was now reduced to sighs and dry sobs. Will sat by her a little longer, patted her hands and spoke cheerfully. Then the train departed and he jumped from it as it moved and ran along the platform with a last earnest injunction.
“See mother first moment you can an’ explain how ’t is. Mother’ll understand, for faither did similar identical, though he wasn’t put in clink for it.”
He waved his hand and Phoebe passed homewards. Then the fire died out of his eyes and he sighed and turned. But no shadow of weakness manifested itself in his manner. His jaw hardened, he smote his leg with his stick, and, ascertaining the time of the next train to Exeter, went back to bid Mr. Ford farewell before setting about his business.
Will told his uncle nothing concerning the contemplated action; and such silence was unfortunate, for had he spoken the old man’s knowledge must have modified his fantastic design. Knowing that Will came mysteriously from regular employment which he declined to discuss, and assuming that he now designed returning to it, Mr. Ford troubled no more about him. So his nephew thanked the Registrar right heartily for all the goodness he had displayed in helping two people through the great crisis of their lives, and went on his way. His worldly possessions were represented by a new suit of blue serge which he wore, and a few trifles in a small carpet-bag.
It was the past rather than the present or future which troubled Will on his journey to Exeter; and the secret of the last six months, whatever that might be, lay heavier on his mind than the ordeal immediately ahead of him. In this coming achievement he saw no shame; it was merely part payment for an action lawless but necessary. He prided himself always on a great spirit of justice, and justice demanded that henceforth he must consider the family into which he had thus unceremoniously introduced himself. To no man in the wide world did he feel more kindly disposed than to Miller Lyddon; and his purpose was now to save his father-in-law all the annoyance possible.
Arrived at Exeter, Will walked cheerfully away to the County Gaol, a huge red-brick pile that scarce strikes so coldly upon the eye of the spectator as ordinary houses of detention. Grey and black echo the significance of a prison, but warm red brick strikes through the eye to the brain, and the colour inspires a genial train of ideas beyond reason’s power instantly to banish. But the walls, if ruddy, were high, and the rows of small, remote windows, black as the eye-socket of a skull, stretched away in dreary iron-bound perspective where the sides of the main fabric rose upward to its chastened architectural adornments. Young Blanchard grunted to himself, gripped his stick, from one end of which was suspended his carpet-bag, and walked to the wicket at the side of the prison’s main entrance. He rang a bell that jangled with tremendous echoes among the naked walls within; then there followed the rattle of locks as the sidegate opened, and a warder looked out to ask Will his business. The man was burly and of stout build, while his fat, bearded face, red as the gaol walls themselves, attracted Blanchard by its pleasant expression. Will’s eyes brightened at the aspect of this janitor; he touched his hat very civilly, wished the man “good afternoon,” and was about to step in when the other stopped him.
“Doan’t be in such a hurry, my son. What’s brought ’e, an’ who do ’e want?”
“My business is private, mister; I wants to see the head man.”
“The Governor? Won’t nobody less do? You can’t see him without proper appointment. But maybe a smaller man might serve your turn?”
Will reflected, then laughed at the warder with that sudden magic of face that even softened hard hearts towards him.
“To be plain, mate, I’m here to stop. You’ll be sure to knaw ’bout it sooner or late, so I’ll tell ’e now. I’ve done a thing I must pay for, and ’t is a clink job, so I’ve comed right along.”
The warder grew rather sterner, and his eye instinctively roamed for a constable.
“Best say no more, then. Awnly you’ve comed to the wrong place. Police station’s what you want, I reckon.”
“Why for? This be County Gaol, ban’t it?”
“Ess, that’s so; but we doan’t take in folks for the axin’. Tu many queer caraters about.”
Will saw the man’s eyes twinkle, yet he was puzzled at this unexpected problem.
“Look here,” he said, “I like you, and I’ll deal fair by you an’ tell you the rights of it. Step out here an’ listen.”
“Mind, what