BATTLE AND MURDER.

A warm flood of lamplight streamed from the sitting room window out on the path as Ellison approached the house. He could make out Merton's voice inside raised in argument, and at intervals his wife's replying in tones that were as unnatural to her as they were terrible to him to hear. He drew into the shadow of the veranda and watched and listened. Esther was seated on the sofa near the fireplace, Merton was kneeling by her side holding her hand. She had turned her head away from him, but as it was in the direction of the place where her husband lay concealed, he could see that big tears were coursing down her cheeks. He ground his teeth with rage as he noticed the look upon Merton's face. For the first time he saw the man's real nature written in plain and unmistakable characters.

"Esther, you cannot mean it. You cannot be so cruel to me as to persist in your refusal. Think what you are to me, and think what you may be in the days before us. True, I have only known you a little while, but in that little while I have learned to love you as no other man could ever do. Body and soul I am yours, and you are mine. You love me—I know it—I am certain of it. Then you will not draw back now?"

She tried to rise but he held her down.

"Mr. Merton, I have told you before, and I tell you again, that I cannot, and will not listen to you. If you love me as you say, and I pray with my whole miserable heart that it may not be true, you will not drive me to desperation. Think of what you would make of my life, think of the awful wrong you would do to your friend, my husband."

"Your husband was only my friend before I learned to love you. Now he is my bitterest foe. No man can be a friend of mine who loves you. I must have your love, and I alone. Oh, Esther, remember what I said to you last night. You were not so cold and hard to me then!"

"I was the wickedest and weakest woman on earth to let you say it. You have a stronger will than I have, and you made me do it. It may make you understand something of how I feel towards you when I tell you that I have not ceased for a single instant to hate and upbraid myself for listening to it. Do you know, Mr. Merton, what you have done? Do you know that by listening to you for that one moment, I can never look my husband or child truthfully in the face again? And my husband trusted me so! Oh, God, have mercy upon me!"

"You say you cannot look your husband in the face again. No; but you shall look one in the face, Esther, who loves you ten thousand times more than your husband is even capable of loving you; one who worships the very ground you walk on, whose only wish is to be your humble servant to the death. Come, Esther, there is time yet, the mail-boat does not sail till midnight. You can pack a few things together, I know, in a minute or two. Do that, and let us escape to the township before your husband returns. By morning we shall be on board the steamer, and hundreds of miles away. We will leave her in Batavia. They will never trace us. You can surely have no fear of the future when you know that I will give you such love as man never gave to woman yet! Isn't it worth it, Esther?"

He passed one arm round her waist, and tried to draw her towards him. Again she attempted to rise, and again he forced her to retain her seat.

"Let me go, Mr. Merton, let me go! How dare you hold me like this? Let me go!"

"Not until you have promised, Esther. Quickly make up your mind; there is not a moment to lose. Come, I can see it written in your face that you will not disappoint me."

"I refuse!—I refuse!—I refuse! Let me go, sir, you have done me wrong enough already! Do you call yourself a man, that you can treat a wretched woman so? Take your arm from round my waist before I strike you. Oh, you cur! you dastard! you coward! Isn't it enough for you that you should cut me off from a man whose shoes you are not worthy to unlace? Isn't it enough that you should drive me from my happy home? Isn't it enough that you should make me an unworthy mother to my child? Must you kill my soul as well as my heart? Let me go, I say, let me go! or, as I live, I'll strike you!"

"Hush, hush, Esther! for mercy's sake, be calm. Do you want to rouse the whole station?"

"I don't care what I do; I am desperate—I am mad with shame and loathing of you!"

"And you will go back to this lying traitor of a husband, I suppose, this great man, who won you by a lie, who has only deceived you as he has deceived others, a common fraud and trickster—you will go back to him, I suppose, and fawn on him, and tell him that you love him, when I have——"

With her right hand she struck him a blow upon the mouth.

"There, that is my answer to you; now go before I call for help and have you thrashed off the island!"

He sprang to his feet, his face black with rage. Ellison rose too, and approached the French window which led into the room. Merton's voice quivered with passion.

"You have struck me—good; you have fooled me—better! Now you shall understand me properly; I will have such vengeance for that blow, for that fooling, as never man had before. You little know my power, my lady; but I tell you this, that I will crush you to the earth, and that worm, your husband, with you, till you groan for mercy. In the meantime——"

He stopped and looked up to discover Ellison standing in the doorway.

"In the meantime," said Ellison, advancing into the room, "as there is a God above me, I intend to kill you."

Esther stood paralysed with fear, unable to move hand or foot, unable even to speak. Once she tried to find her voice, but the words she strove to utter died away unspoken in her throat. Merton glared from one to the other like a wild beast.

"It may interest you to know, Mr. Merton, that I have overheard all your conversation. Out in this part of the world, so far removed, as you were good enough to observe the other day, from the cramping influences of older civilisation, when we find centipedes in our houses we crush them under heel to prevent them doing mischief. You are more treacherous even than a centipede, and I intend to kill you without delay."

As he spoke, he took off his coat and threw it from him. Merton watched, and his eyes betrayed his fear. Esther took a step forward, and then stood still. Her eyes were open, but they did not seem to see. Ellison moved towards his foe.

"This would probably be the best place. My wife can see fair play."

Suddenly Esther found her voice and her power of movement. With a scream she threw herself upon her husband, and clung to him with all the strength of despair.

"Cuthbert—Cuthbert! for God's sake, forbear! Let him go, I implore you! He is not worthy to be touched by your little finger."

"Let me go, woman, let me go! How dare you stop me!"

"I dare anything now! I will not let you go until you have sworn not to raise your hand against that man." Then, facing round on the other, she cried: "As for you, fly while you are safe, and may the curse of an unhappy woman follow you to your grave!"

Merton did not need telling twice. With one bound he reached the veranda, and in another second he was outside the house, and flying towards the beach at the top of his speed. Ellison looked on like one in a dream; he did not seem to know what to do. Then slowly he felt Esther's arms untwining; her head fell forward on his shoulder. She had fainted. Springing to the door, he called to Mrs. Fenwick, who came running out.

"Your mistress is not well. Attend to her."

Then placing her on the sofa, he too left the house, and ran swiftly towards the beach. As he approached the jetty he saw a man pushing a boat into the water. At first he thought it was the man he wanted, but on nearer approach he saw that it was Murkard, who pointed out to sea.

"There he goes, the cowardly cur, rowing for his life."

"What are you going to do?"

"Hasten after him. You may be sure I shall not let him out of my sight until I know where he has hidden that pearl. Listen to me. He has not been off the island for a week; he has not had time to take anything with him now. Either he has it about him, or it is still here; in that case when all is quiet he'll come back for it. We must watch and wait; I'll follow him, you guard the station."

"I cannot; I must go after him. You don't know what a wrong that villain has done me. I must have vengeance!"

"No, no; you must not go after him with that look in your face. Stay here, I will do the rest. I feel convinced he will come back." As he spoke, he ran the boat into the water and leaped into it. "Give me your word you will not attempt to follow."

"I promise; but I will have vengeance here."

"So do, if you still wish it."

Murkard pulled out, and Ellison went back to the store. Alone there, he took down a Winchester repeater from a shelf, cleaned, and loaded it; then he went out again, securely locking the door behind him. From the store he followed the little path that led through the scrub to the headland. It was the same path he had followed on the morning of his arrival at the station, the morning that he had first seen Esther. Following it along until it opened out on to the little knoll above the sands, he seated himself on a fallen tree and scanned the offing. By this time, his enemy must have landed on the other side. What would his next move be? At any rate, sleuth-hound Murkard was on his trail—that at least was one comfort. But why had he not gone himself? Why had he let Murkard go? To have followed him himself would have been altogether more satisfactory; he might have had his own vengeance then. But surely God would be good to him, and let him have it yet.

He looked up at the heavens studded with stars, and then down at the smooth water of the straits. Only the ripple of the wavelets on the shore and the occasional call of a night-bird in the scrub behind him disturbed the stillness; it was a perfect night. For what seemed an eternity he sat on, thinking and thinking; but though he tried to think coherently, he was too excited to work out his actual situation. There was only the one real craving in his brain, and that was for vengeance. He wanted the actual grip of his antagonist, to make him suffer bodily pain in return for the mental agony he had inflicted. The desire for personal vengeance is a whole-souled one, and, like the love of opium, when once it takes possession all else has to go.

And so he sat on and on, watching the star-powdered water, and listening for any sound that might proclaim the return of his foe. But nothing came, only the swish of the waves on the strand, and now and again faint music of the ships' bells across the water.

Twelve o'clock struck, and just as the sound died away his eyes caught something moving in the water opposite where he sat. What it was he could not determine, but he would soon be able to, for it was every moment coming closer. At length it came near enough for him to see that it was a man swimming. Who could it be? Could it be Merton? To make sure, he crawled out on to the edge of the little cliff, and throwing himself down upon the ground, leaned over and watched.

Closer and closer the figure came until the swimmer touched bottom. Yes, it was Merton! After pausing a moment to regain his breath, he pulled himself together and waded ashore. Just as he left the water, Ellison caught sight of another figure out at sea. This must be Murkard. Fortunately the first man did not see him. He seated himself for a while, and then made off and disappeared round the headland towards the station, just as the second figure found a footing on the beach. Ellison took it all in in a second; as Murkard expected, he had come to recover the pearl, believing everybody to be asleep.

Eager to be doing, Ellison watched Murkard leave the water and follow the other round the promontory, and then he himself set off through the scrub to intercept him on the other side. It was a difficult matter to steer through the thick jungle in the dark; but eventually he managed it, reaching the huts just as Merton was approaching the store. What was he going to do? Could the pearl, after all, be concealed in there? Reflecting that if he waited and left him undisturbed he would probably find out everything for himself, he paused for a few moments and watched. He saw the man look carefully round, to be sure that he was unobserved, and then approach the door. A minute later he entered the building. At the same instant the other shadow crept up towards the door. Seeing this, Ellison picked up his heels and ran towards it too; but the night was dark, and in the middle of his career his foot came into collision with a discarded cable lying in the grass. He tripped and fell, one cartridge of the rifle he carried in his hand going off with a murderous report. For half a minute the breath was knocked out of his body, and he lay where he had fallen. Then picking himself up, he prepared to continue his advance.

But the report had given the alarm, and when he looked again, a strange scene was being enacted before him. From where he stood he could see the bright light streaming from the store door, and hear a sound of voices coming from within. Next moment two men, locked together in deadliest embrace, came staggering out into the open. There was no noise now, only the two locked bodies twisting and twining, this way and that, round and round over the open space before the door. It needed little discernment to see that both men were fighting for their lives. Like wildcats they clung to each other, each exerting every muscle to bring the other down. But, as Ellison half-consciously reflected, what match could Murkard hope to be for such a man as Merton? One was a big, powerful man, the other only a parody of the name. With this thought in his mind, he dashed across to them; but he was too late. He saw an arm go up, and a knife descend; again it went up in the lamplight, and again it descended. Then Murkard's hold gave way, and he fell to the ground; next moment his antagonist was speeding towards the beach. Ellison took it all in at a glance, and then set off as fast as his legs could carry him by another path to intercept his flight. So far, the man had not seen him; he would take him by surprise, or perish in the attempt.

The path he followed was one that gave him a decided start, and he was able to reach the shore and take advantage of the shelter of a bush before the other turned the corner of the headland. He heard him coming closer and closer, breathing heavily after the struggle he had just undergone. Then Ellison stepped out of the shadow and confronted him, rifle in hand.

"It's no good, Merton, you haven't a chance. Put up your hands, or I fire!"

The other came to a dead halt, and without a second thought did as he was ordered. But overcome with astonishment though he was, his habitual nonchalance returned to him in an instant.

"You're a little smarter than usual, Mr. Ellison. I didn't bargain for this!"

"You'd better not talk. Keep your hands up, or I'll drill you through and through. There are eight more cartridges under my finger, and I'll shoot without a second thought. Right about face, and walk up the middle of the path. Don't attempt any escape, or you're a dead man."

Merton did as he was ordered, and in this fashion they returned to the store. As they approached it they could discern a small crowd collected round the door. The report of the rifle had brought the hands from their huts, and between them they had carried Murkard into the building.

"Straight on, Merton. Keep your hands up, and don't turn to the right or left, or stop till I give you permission."

They came up to the store door, and the crowd fell back on either side to let them pass.

"My lads," said Ellison, "this is a very bad business, as you can see. Two of you catch hold of this man, and take care that he doesn't escape. Jimmy Rhotoma, go into the store and bring me a pair of handcuffs you'll see hanging on a nail above my desk. Long Pete, you take a boat and pull across to the township for the doctor and a policeman. Bring them back with you, and be as quick as you can."

The handcuffs were soon forthcoming, and Ellison himself adjusted them on Merton's wrists.

"Now, boys, take him into your own hut and watch him there till I call. If he wants to talk tell him to hold his jaw. If he tries to bolt, kill him with the first thing you find handy. Two of you remain with me."

An angry growl from the men evidenced the reception Merton might expect to meet with if he attempted to escape, and he was wise enough to see that it would be impossible. When he had been led away Ellison entered the store. He found Murkard lying on the floor, his head pillowed on a couple of chair-cushions. The pool of blood by his side proclaimed the fact that he was seriously wounded. Moreover, he was unconscious. Ellison knelt beside him, and having found the wound on his breast, endeavoured to staunch the bleeding; but it was a hopeless task. Taking the whiskey bottle from the table, where it had remained since Merton had brought it down to him that evening, he tried to force some of the spirit into his mouth. A moment after he did so Murkard opened his eyes and looked about him.

"What has happened?" he asked faintly. Then his memory came back to him. "Oh, I remember. He has not escaped, Ellison?"

"Not he. We have him safe enough. But, oh, Murkard, to think that you should be wounded like this!"

"I told you what it would be, old man. This is the fulfilment of my prophecy. I knew it would come."

He moved his hand and let it fall to his side.

"I'm all wet," he went on, after a long pause. "By Jove! it's blood. Then it's hopeless. Well, I don't know that I'm sorry. But there is something else we have to do. When I came in he was burrowing behind that box there. Look for yourself. Don't bother about me."

He pointed to a box in the corner, and Ellison went towards it, and pulled it into the centre of the room.

"What do you see?"

"Nothing at all. Stay, there's a matchbox here."

He stooped and picked it up.

"Open it quickly—quickly!"

Ellison did as he was ordered.

"The pearl—the pearl! Here it is safe and sound!"

"I thought as much. The scoundrel! Now I can die happy. Give me some more whiskey."

Ellison thrust the pearl back into the safe, and then gave Murkard another drink of the spirit. It put fresh life into him for the moment.

"Ellison," he said, taking his friend's hand, "you've been a true friend to me."

"I have not been half as true a friend as you have been to me. My God, Murkard, is there nothing I can do for you until the doctor comes? I cannot let you die like this!"

"It's hopeless, old man. I can feel it. Let us talk while we have the chance. I want to tell you about that money. You see my family sent it to me, myself. They don't know you in the matter at all. I deceived you there. If you would like to pay it back and start afresh send it to them from me. Tell them, too,"—he paused,—"tell them, too,—that I died—doing my duty. Do you understand? It will surprise them, but I should like them to know it."

"They shall know that you died like a hero, giving your life for mine."

"Don't pile on the agony, old fellow. They'd not believe it; we're by nature a sceptical race. I don't want the matter turned to ridicule."

"Is there nothing I can do to make you easier?"

"Nothing, old man, except to give me more liquor. Thank you. I'm getting weaker every minute. I wonder what they'll do to that fellow Merton?"

"Hang him if I can do anything to forward it."

"Poor devil! And yet he was only sent into the world for this. Look, Ellison, bring him here for a minute—I must speak to him."

"I'll send for him."

Ellison went to the door, and sent one of the hands for Merton. The night was almost spent; the stars were paling in the eastern heavens. A cold, cheerless wind blew up from the sea.

In less time than it takes to tell Merton entered the hut, carefully guarded. He looked at the man lying on the floor, and a half-contemptuous smile passed across his face.

"What do you bring me here for?" he asked.

"Murkard wishes to speak to you," said Ellison, and went outside leaving the pair together.

Three minutes later Merton emerged again, his face white as the death that was swiftly coming to the other. He was saying to himself over and over again, as the men led him away:

"God help me! If I had only known in time!"

Ellison went in again. One glance told him the end was very near at hand.

"Ellison, it's a rum world, isn't it? Do you know, I touched that fellow on his only tender spot, and I know now why he has always been so bitter against me. Poor devil, he never knew that——" He let the sentence die unfinished. Then he said, as if addressing someone present: "You need not have had any fear. I should not have betrayed you, dear. But five years is a long time to wait." A pause, during which his wits seemed to come back to him. "Would you mind holding my hand, Ellison. I've got rather a rocky place to pull through, and, after all, I'm a bit of a coward. Somehow I think I'm going to have a little sleep now. Remember—we've got—to—get—those—accounts away—by—the mail—to-morrow——"

He closed his eyes, and a moment later the other knew that Silas Murkard's soul's account had gone to be audited by the Auditor of Heaven.

Ellison, having placed the hand he held gently down by the dead man's side, rose to his feet, and with a great mist between his eyes and a choking sensation in his throat went out of the hut. The doctor and two police-officers were climbing the hill. He waited and returned with them into the store. To the police officials he said:

"This is the victim; the murderer is in custody in the hut yonder." To the doctor he only said: "I am sorry to have troubled you. You have come too late. He died five minutes ago."