Tracks in the Snow · Chapter 17 (2/2)

By this time we were at the inn door, and I noticed the landlord’s name, which was the same as that of a man of doubtful character who had come to Long Wilton just before I left it. Several people were about, and they might, if they chose, hear every word of what he spoke, except when he dropped his voice. “Stop,” he cried, and I stood still. “I am going to be open with you, Mr. Driver, as open as I thought you would have been with me. I have been trying to bring myself to it all this walk, and I will now. I have not said what I meant” (here he dropped his voice) “about Trethewy. I have really” (this in a whisper) “begun to suspect him myself. Oh, yes, you laugh; I know what you suspect of me. Do you think I cannot see what interpretation you put upon every one of my doings that you know of, in your own house, at Peters’ before⁠—long ago at the island of Sulu, I daresay. You think” (this time so loud that I thought the landlord and other men must hear, though, as I reflected later, the phrase he used was so chosen that a countryman would not readily take it in), “you think I am the assassin of Eustace Peters. Well, I am not.” We turned and walked away again from the inn. “I know,” he continued, “how things look. I should not wonder if I were fated to hang for this. I should not greatly care now, for I have thought it so long, but hanging for it and being guilty of it are different matters.” He kept his eyes fixed steadily on me all this while. “You thought things looked ugly for Trethewy once, did you not? But I know you thought him innocent when it was hard to think so. I do not ask you to believe me, but I ask you to keep the same firm, clear mind now. You think Trethewy did not kill Peters. So do I. He did not actually kill him, he no more did that than you did. Now I know you will answer me straight. You are too brave a man to care about playing the part you played at Florence. Have you found or have you not found any direct evidence whatever, true or false, that convicts any man⁠—convicts him if it is true⁠—of making those tracks, or of going to or coming from the place where they were made? Shall I repeat my question? Is it not clear, or are you still uncertain whether you will answer it?” I could do no other; I told him truly that I had nothing but inference to go upon as to who made those tracks, and I told him that my inference pointed to him. “Naturally,” he said quietly (here we turned and paced slowly towards the inn again). “Only, till you have something better than that inference, remember that there may be more subtle motives than you think of for making false tracks. Anyway (for it is no good my arguing with you further, I see that), here is one piece of advice that you may take or leave⁠—honestly, you had better take it if you value your future peace of mind⁠—keep your mind open a little longer. Go away from here, and visit Long Wilton again and hear what they say there now; or, if you will not do that, stay here long enough to watch Trethewy, and the girl, and the people that you may see about with them⁠—one man in particular. Well, goodbye, Mr. Driver, pardon my saying I respect you in spite of Florence.” The manner of this last remark was maddening. I was keenly stung. I said, “Mr. Vane-Cartwright, after all, Peters’ death is not the only mysterious death you and I know of.” “Oh, Longhurst,” he said, with a light laugh which this time really took me aback. “I will tell you anything you can wish to know about poor Longhurst. Not now, as you are not in the mind for it. Tonight, if you think better of your refusal to come, or any time you may choose. I only wish,” he said sadly, as he finally turned away, “old Peters had asked me straight out about Longhurst.” He had puzzled me but he had not shaken me. Could he have imagined that he was likely to do so? Probably not, but it occurred to me, directly he was gone, that he now knew for certain that I was dangerous; knew that in some ways he could play upon me easily, and in some ways not at all; and knew that I had not yet found out what I came to find out from Ellen Trethewy.