Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery by John Pilkington (top 10 most read books in the world .TXT) 📗

the very end of his days. But I leap ahead, and will return to the little foundry on the rushing Newerne stream, run by the hard-pressed Jonas Willett and his son Peter.

At first, all was calm. We had seen smoke rising from the chimney for some time, and I was unsurprised to find an air of normality. No-one was in sight, but Parry ordered the constables to fan out, alert for any movement. There was none, however, until we neared the doors of the furnace house where the sergeant called a halt. His hand was on his sword-hilt, as was mine; all of us looked about warily - then tensed as a figure familiar to me came out of the building, and stopped in his tracks.

‘Master Willett,’ I said, with a glance at Parry. ‘I find this reunion very different to the one I expected.’

Jonas Willett stared, with a look of mingled surprise and alarm, but made no reply - whereupon Parry moved forward.

‘I hold a warrant for the arrest of one Tobias Russell,’ he said, and produced a paper from his jerkin. ‘I’m given to understand he is here.’ He waited while the other took in the tidings. Meanwhile I peered past him at the furnace-house, but saw no movement.

‘I don’t understand,’ Willett said, somewhat angrily. ‘Why would he be here? I have no dealings with the Cricklepit men.’

‘Though you once worked for them,’ I reminded him, taking a step forward, at which a frown appeared.

‘You will recall that I left there, years ago,’ came the retort. ‘And I pray you, what business is this of yours?’

‘Master Willett, you’ll not question us,’ Parry said. ‘If the man I seek is here you must give him up, or face a charge of aiding a felon.’

‘Felon?’ Willett echoed. ‘Nay, I’d never do such!’

But he was afraid, and everyone saw it. On impulse I looked about pointedly, then asked him where his son Peter was.

‘He’s somewhere about… why do you ask me that?’

‘Then call him.’

Parry stepped closer to Willett, and following his lead the constables pressed forward. Finding himself hemmed in by a semi-circle of armed men, even the stout foundryman flinched.

‘See now, Peter isn’t here,’ he said quickly. ‘But given time I can fetch him, and he’ll answer any questions you put… we’ve done no wrong.’ He nodded at me. ‘That man will vouch for us – we’re simple working folk, is all we are…’

Yet he faltered again, aware that both Parry and I were watching him keenly. At the back of my mind, suspicions began to grow… but I was diverted by the sergeant drawing his sword.

‘I think you can take us to Russell,’ he said, in a cold voice: the patient sergeant had lost patience. A moment passed before, to my surprise, Willett heaved a great sigh.

‘You played fast and loose with me, sir,’ he said, looking hard at me. ‘Using a false name and all… like I told you, my boy knew you for a snooper. What is it drives you – a reward, for hunting men down?’

There was bitterness in his voice, but there was something else too. It sounded like an overwhelming sadness.

‘Justice is my reward,’ I answered, somewhat sharply. ‘That, and the wish to help a friend whose brother died here. And I don’t believe he was crushed by a tree - indeed, I believe it’s you who have played fast and loose with me!’

And I would have said more, had I not caught Parry’s look. ‘There’ll be time for recriminations, sir,’ he said. ‘Let’s catch our prey first, shall we?’ To Willett he added: ‘Lead on now. But first, I want to know where we’re going.’

‘You know the way already,’ Willett muttered, with a dark look in my direction. ‘It’s in Lydney.’

***

It was the Willetts’ own house.

It stood beyond the village, on the path to Aylburton; I would have passed it, the night I walked Thomas Peck home. It was a humble cottage, with a vegetable garden and a wood-pile. Our party was there within the half-hour, leading the horses while Jonas Willett himself walked in front with Parry. He was not yet a prisoner, though few would have guessed it, the way he was guarded. As we passed through Lydney people stopped to stare, but the foundryman himself look neither to left nor right. When we reached the house, he stopped, his eyes on the ground.

‘We’ll follow you in,’ Parry said, gesturing to the door.

But Willet held back. ‘It isn’t locked,’ he muttered. ‘You may enter as you please.’

I watched him, then threw a glance at Parry: the man was stalling. Without another word, the sergeant strode to the door. As he threw it open he called to the constables, ordering two men to cover the rear of the house, then went inside. His men hurried to obey, while I looked at the upper windows, half-covered by sagging thatch. There was no sign of movement - until the peace was shattered abruptly, by the loud crack of a pistol-shot.

It came from within the house. At once I drew my sword and started for the door, but the two remaining constables were quicker, pushing past me in their haste. Soon we were all in the hallway, calling out Parry’s name. Doors banged open, boots thundered on bare floorboards… but I stayed back, one eye on the narrow staircase – and drew a sharp breath as a figure loomed above me, a smoking pistol in his hand.

Tobias Russell.

We stared at each other, until with an oath Russell turned sharply and disappeared. There was some commotion overhead, even as both constables appeared from separate doorways.

‘Upstairs,’ I snapped. ‘I fear the sergeant’s been shot.’

They ran up the stairs while I followed, heart in mouth as to what I might find. Loud voices sounded, along with