Was She Justified?

Front matter

FRANK BARRETTS NOVELS Post 8vo. illustrated boards, 25. each ; cloth, 2s. bd. each. FETTERED FOR LIFE. THE SIN OF OLGA ZASSOULICH. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. FOLLY MORRISON. HONEST DAVIE. LITTLE LADY LINTON. A PRODIGAL'S PROGRESS. JOHN FORD; and HIS HELPMATE. A RECOILING VENGEANCE. LIEUT. BARNABAS. FOUND GUILTY. FOR LOVE AND HONOUR. Crown 8vo. cloth, 3s. 6d. each ; post 8vo. boards, 2s. each ; cloth limp, zs. 6rf. each, THE WOMAN OF THE IRON BRACELETS. THE HARDING SCANDAL. A MISSING WITNESS. With Eight Illustrations by W. II. Margetson. Crown 8vo. cloth extra, 3*. bd. WAS SHE JUSTIFIED ? Crown 8vo. cloth, gilt top, bs. London: CHATTO & WINDUS, in St. Martin's Lanf, W.C. PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE LONDON BY FRANK BARRETT AUTHOR OF 'THE HARDING SCANDAL' 'FOLLY MORRISON' 'LITTLE LADY LINTON ' ETC.

LONDON CHATTO _ WINDUS 1S9S CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACE I. IKEV I II. Beasts of Prey 13 III. Happiness in a Hut 22 IV. David is Tempted 32 V. The Seed of Jealousy 43 VI. A New Departure 54 VII. David Grant Finds a Fortune . . . 62 VIII. Lost! 74 IX. Disillusion 79 X. Anti-Climax 90 XI. Scoring the First Trick 97 XII. The Beginning of Bondage . . . .107 XIII. David's Fad 115 XIV A Climax 123 XV. The Inevitable 133 XVI. Development 143 XVII. One Happy Day 149 XVIII. Her Last Chance 155 XIX. David's Discovery 166 XX. A Good Bargain CONTENTS VIII CHAPTHR PA-K XXI. To the Rescue 184 XXII. 'Some Good Woman' 193 XXIII. Regeneration 201 XXIV. Ikey Speculates 210 XXV. A Page of Romance 219 XXVI. Ebb and Flow 228 XXVII. A Desperate Remedy 236 XXVIII. A Dark Patch 244 XXIX. To Save Him 256 XXX. Enemies 265 XXXI. Circumstantial Evidence 276 XXXII. The Alternative .284 XXXIII. The Last Resource 292 XXXIV. The End

Chapter I. Ikey

Maybe you have seen David Grant ; at one time he was known by sight to half London — that half which can afford to amuse itself. If you were at the 'Varsity boat race in the hailstorm year, you must have picked him out of the Light Blues as the smartest man of the crews — the finest speci men of a healthy, vigorous young Englishman ; you may have seen him lounging in evening dress, with an absolutely unnecessary eye-glass, in the stalls of theatres or music-halls — the latter more frequently, or in a grey Newmarket, tooling a four-in-hand on the Brighton road, or in a white clustcoat in the paddock at Epsom ; perhaps you saw him when he appeared for the last time on the society stage, returning from Goodwood half mad with champagne and despair, the last rem nant of a squandered fortune having been staked and lost on the favourite.

B Would you recognise the wild young spend thrift in the sober, silent man in a navvy's jean trousers and a flannelette shirt, with his arms bared to the elbows, standing in a wretched mud hut before a table fingering a pile of dirt, a loaded revolver lying beside the earthenware cup that held but the three small diamonds found in ten longs hours of isrnoble toil ? I think you would, for though a beard grows now upon his chin, and his fair skin is burnt brown by the African sun, the brightness has not gone from his eyes nor the golden sheen from his crisp, waving hair, nor the sweetness from his lips, despite two years of drudgery and disappointment. Adversity has left him his good looks as if in mockery, for here, in this hideous South African desert, where a man is willing to sell the best years of his life for a handful of crystals, good looks count for nothing, good luck for everything.

Hour after hour he has been filtering the broken clay through his fingers ; his occupation is scarcely more than mechanical, for muscle and mind are alike benumbed by its enervating monotony. From this torpid condition he is suddenly aroused by the swinging open of a door, and as he quickly turns his head his hand instinctively IKEY 3 falls upon the revolver. The diamonds in the cup are worth half a crown at the outside, and that's the value of the man's life who would take them. But it's only a child who stands in the door way — a thin slip of a little chap ten years old, maybe, clad for the most part in an extraordinary pair of trousers, braced up to his armpits above, lopped off below, leaving his brown legs bare from the knee, amorphous before and behind, having been taken in from the original full man's size by an inexperienced hand to his. small pro portions.

An equally shapeless felt hat, white with the dust of the plains, crowns a dark mass of long, unkempt hair : beneath the hair, springing low over the black brows, is a thin, bony little face, expanded now by the broadest of grins that narrows the grey, glittering eyes, curves up the short upper lip, and displays a long set of wonderful white teeth. The little fellow, rubbing his small brown hands in expectation, sinks his head in his shoulders and crouches his body for a spring. Seeing who it is, a smile brightens David's sombre face, and quitting the revolver he dusts his hands of the clay and turns to the door. 'You, Ikey?' says he in the mellow tone of affection. B ' Yes, it's me, me,' answers the boy, and with a little squeal of delight he springs up, catches hold of the big man's shoulders, shins up his body with the agility of a squirrel, and buries his face in David's red neck. ' That'll do, young un ; it tickles,' says David, squirming under Ikey's caresses. ' Can't help it.

I do love you so, you don't know.' David seated himself on a corner of the clay covered table, and suffered Ikey, sitting on his knee, to nestle against his breast, silent and still for a moment with the gratification of his longing. 'And what a difference race makes,' pondered David. ' Fancy an ordinary boy going on in this sort of style. Isolation counts for something, I suppose, and having no one in the world for company but that everlasting old man.' Then he asked : ' Where's your grandfather, Ikey ? ' ' Lookin' sor me, I 'spect. I slipt out of the back of the cart nuver side of the kopje.' A thin voice in the treble of old age piped out in the distance. 'IT ikey?' ' All right ; he's here,' called David in response. ' Been lucky vis week ? ' asked Ikey, glancing with his quick eye at the bowl on the table, but without stirring from David's embracing arm.

IKEY, 5 ' Not very,' said David with a sigh. Ikey echoed the sigh, and smoothed David's hand in sympathy. ' Dreamt nuver night I found shut a big un,' he said presently, very softly. ' What did you do with it, Ikey ? ' ' What do you fink I done wiv it ? what do you fink I'd do wiv all the world if I get it ? ' he asked with passion strange in such a mere child. ' Well, I know what I should have done with it at your age,' replied David, escaping the palpable inference. ' I should have gone round straight to the tuck shop and swopped it for Ikey only shook his head, nestling closer to David, brooding silently on the delightful idea of giving everything, everything, everything to David. ' I suppose you don't know any chaps of your own size ? ' continued David. ' Lots of 'em — at the camp — everywhere. ' But you don't chum up with any of them.

Ikey shook his head. ' Granfaver wouldn't let me if I wanted to, but I don't want to. I hate all of 'em. I'd like to see 'em all kill each uver, just as they'd like to kill me. Boy frowed a piece of iron at me nuver day, look ' He pulled up his shirt sleeve, and showed a wound on his arm, adding tearfully, in pity of his own misfortune, ' I don't do nofink to vem.' ' That's it, Ikey. If you could only manage to stand up to one of 'em, and try to give him a dressing down, the little beggars would leave you alone in future.' But Ikey only shook his head in despondency, pressing his face close to David's breast. He was not David's ideal of boyhood ; David would have had him sturdier, harder, rougher ; but looking down on the delicate, fragile youngster, the delicate beauty of his face struck a tender chord in his heart.

Ikey's hat had fallen ; the slanting rays of the sun, coming through the open door, threw reddish lights on his long waving hair and gave a warmer tint to the brown, smooth chin, the long, black lashes of his soft eyes ; and David noting these points drew the child closer to his breast. Some thing in this feminine grace, maybe, reminded him of the girl far away to whom he had sold his soul. 'They'll kill granfaver,' Ikey said. 'He says vey will.' 'Who?' ' The mouchers over at the camp.' ' Why ? ' IKEY 7 ' 'Cos we're Jews. Everyone hates us 'cos we're Jews, 'cept you. You don't, do you ? ' David bent and kissed the upturned face, thinking less of him than of the girl he had left behind him. Abrams stood in the doorway — a patriarch with long white hair and beard, bent with years and the weight of a sack of groceries he carried on his back.

Fie looked on the picture within, with calculation in his half-closed eyes, and emotion quivering on his lips. He made neither sound nor movement until his shadow drew David's attention. Then entering, he said : ' I hope I thee you well, Mithter Grant, thir.' Then dropping his sack he turned to Ikey : ' You're a nithe, dutiful child, Hikey, to leave your po'r old grandfather to tie up the bullickth, and carry up all the goodth by himthelf.' Ikey bent his head, and displayed his wonder ful little teeth with a chuckle, whilst the old Jew, winking at David, held up his hands in admira tion of Ikey's cleverness in getting the better of him. David rose, setting the lad on his feet, and bade him prepare a kettle of tea — a bidding that Ikey accepted with alacrity — it being the great delight of this weekly visit to Grant to be allowed to make tea ' all by himself.' ' He'ddoanythink for you, Mithter Grant — lay down hith little life for you, thir,' said the old Jew in an under tone. ' A bad bargain, Abrams.

Anyhow, he's a dear little chap. Sit down.' David pushed a stool forward, then turned to the table and set to work again, spreading the dirt out under his hands. Abrams acknowledged the civility, but still stood on the other side of the table, handling his long beard nervously, for he had something to say, and did not know how to say it. To lead up to it he took up the saucer of diamonds and examined them. ' Thixpence apieth ; that's all they're worth, Mithter Grant. Been all the day finding them?' ' Since six this morning,' replied David carelessly. ' Ain't you pretty well thick of it, thir ? ' ' Got past that, thank goodness,' said David, looking back at the earlier months of disappoint ment, when the very touch of the clay, the smell of it, produced loathing and disgust. ' It don't theem right, Mithter Grant, thir, a gen'leman like you, a real gen'leman by birth and education, ath anyone can thee with half a heye —not one of the pinchbeck fellers with breatht pins and gold chainth, all fakement and thide, and nothing underneath— the only one of the real IKEY, 9 thort I've ever met in Africa — it don't theem right that you thould be wathting all your betht years in work only fit for a nigger.' David shrugged his shoulders, and spread another handful of dirt under his hand.

There had been a time when he felt shame in this sordid drudgery ; but that, too, was past. ' I told you, thir, two years ago when I sirtht called on you, that your ground was wurth nothing. If it had been, they'd a bought you up at your own prithe, and turned you into a thyndicate or a limited company long ago. But it ain't. I thaid to you, thir, that you'd never get nothink out of it but rubbisth like thith, not enough to keep body and thoul together, and you never will.' ' Then body and soul will have to part, Abrams, for I've sunk every penny in the claim — lost my money, pride, pluck, everything, and am fit for nothing else than this.' ' No, Mithter Grant, you ain't, thir. You won't have me believe — you can't believe your thelf, thir — that if you had the means you would not profit by patht experience to cut out a better path for yourthelf.

The means will come, Mithter Grant, thir, thooner than you ex pect. May I athk you to take care of thith writing ? ' He drew a sealed letter from his breast, and, as David hesitated, he continued, his lowered voice trembling with agitation: 'It maybe the latht kindneth you can do for me.' ' If you wish it,' said David, taking the letter. He saw that it was addressed to himself, and raised his eyes inquiringly. ' Keep it with your diamondth, thir, and open it when ' — he set his wrinkled hands on the table, and leaning forward, added almost in a whisper — ' when I am dead.' The terrible earnestness in the old Jew's face forbade the pleasantry with which David would have made light of the possibility. ' Put it away, thir — put it away with your diamondth — for the sake of my little Ikey.' David unbuckled his belt gravely and put the folded envelope in the double lining, looking round to see that Ikey was not in the room ; then in a low undertone he asked : ' WThat's the matter, Abrams ? ' 'I'm a doomed man.

They're going to kill me, Mithter Grant. I could tell you the nameth of the villains who'll do it. They got up a cry in the market yethterday as I passed — " I.D.B." ' David knew what that meant. To the ' I.D.B.' — illicit diamond buyer — neither justice nor mercy was given. Simply to accuse a man of buying stolen diamonds was a sentence of outlawry. IKEY, 11 ' But you can show a clean bill.' ' What of that ? Anyone may take the law in his own handth againtht me. They'll kill me, and find amongst them a couple of diamondth to juthtify the murder.' 'Why should they kill you, Abrams?' David remonstrated, with another glance to assure him self that he was unheard by Ikey. ' You've done no harm to anyone.' ' They know I've got money, and they believe I'm fool enough to carry it about with me — con cealed in the cart.

They'll have my life, but they'll get no more.' The old man wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his ashen cheeks puckering up in a savage grin in the prospect of his murderers' disappointment. David buckled on his belt in grave silence ; then breaking in upon the Jew's sombre medita tion, he asked : ' Do you carry any arms in the cart, Abrams? ' No, Mithter Grant. I never felt the want of 'em till now.' David picked up the revolver from the table. ' Better take this,' said he. ' If there's clanger it may be as well to show your teeth.' Abrams took the weapon eagerly, looked at the charge in the chambers, and dropped it in his pocket. ' I'll take it, thir,' said he. ' Not that I hope to thave my own life. But there's my po'r little Hikey to think of.' An hour later, when they were parting outside the hut, Abrams said farewell to David, with the absolute conviction that they should meet no more.

For him there was a token set in the sky, and he pointed in mute significance to the sun sinking blood red in the haze of dust that floated on the horizon. »3

Chapter II. Beasts Of

P REV. Perched on the tilt of the bullock cart, Ikev continued to look back at the desolate hut on the plain, waving his hat from time to time on the chance of its being seen by David, until it was quite lost in the haze. Then he dropped his lithe scrap of a body over the tilt hoops and swung himself down on to the merchandise piled up below, and seized upon a roll of illustrated papers and maga zines that David had given him at the last moment. Catching his grandfather's eye fixed upon him with craving tenderness, he grinned from ear to ear, and holding up his treasure said : ' Picksher books he give me ; like to look at 'em, granfaver ? ' The old man nodded, wishing to have the child close to him, and when Ikey, slinging his hat aside, seated himself beside him on the bag of fodder, he slipped his arm round the little fellow's waist and laid his white bearded cheek against the cool dark hair that rippled over the young head.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Ikey opened the bundle, spread the papers out on his small lap, and there, for his grandfather's information, de scribed the pictures with all the possibilities suggested by his untrammelled imagination, satisfied with an occasional grunt of acquiesence from the old man. But Abrams did not look at the pictures, and his thoughts were as far from them as the sun sinking lower and lower in the west. With monotonous regularity he gently moved his bent cheek along the child's head, and when his eyes strayed from the little brown hands spread on the white paper, they scanned the plain that lay before them, a veritable desert of powdered clay, barren and desolate — the road distinguishable only by the line of telegraph posts — no sign of life anywhere, save a speck in the distance, which the old man's trained eye recognised as a waggon of some sort on the road.

As the bullocks slowly shuffled onward, Abrams observed this distant patch with in creasing interest. He could make out that it was a four-wheeled waggon, and the back of it towards him ; but these details were becoming more and more distinct, which proved that the thing was not moving. Why was it stopping there in the middle of the plain ? As he asked himself this question, Abrams slipped his arm from Ikey's waist, dropped his hand in his open pocket, and passed his mobile fingers over the smooth, cold barrel and chambers of the revolver David had given him. Then he put his arm about Ikey's waist again and drew the child nearer to him, straining his half-closed eyes intently on the stopped waggon. The distance was so diminished now that he could distinguish a man standing beside the waggon, and a pile of telegraph posts and lumber lying beside the road.

After all, perhaps it was only the telegraph workmen stopping there to repair the line. But scarcely a minute later, a board snapped under the off-wheel, and the cart lurched over, pitching Ikey and his grandfather into the dust. As he scrambled to his feet, Abrams discovered how the upset had come about. A deep hole had been scraped in the road and masked with a couple of rotten boards and a covering of dust. He turned his eyes quickly towards the waggon and was left with no doubt as to who had set the trap for him. Half a dozen ragged-shirted rascals were out of hiding now and rushing rapidly to wards him. ' Hikey, my dear, how long would it take you to run back to Mithter Grant ? ' asked the old man. ' Not a qu'rtrer of an hour, granfaver — I'd run it in no time.' ' If I tell you to run, Hikey, you run and don't mind what happenth to me.

You'll do ath I tell you, won't you, my clear ? ' ' Yeth, granfaver.' Ikey drew closer to the old man, for both now recognised the foremost of the approaching band — the rascals who had raised the cry of ' I.D.B.' in the market. Abrams dropped his hand in his pocket, and when the men were within half a dozen yards of him he pulled it out and levelled the revolver, his finger on the trigger, and called upon them to stop. They pulled up instantly at the unex pected sight of the nasty weapon with muttered exclamations. One who seemed to be the captain of the rascals, gave some orders inaudible to Abrams at that distance, then he called out : ' Put up that shooter, or it'll be the wus for you. ' Abrams kept the revolver levelled and made no reply, intent only on watching the movements of the gang.

They were beginning to scatter, some to the right, some to the left. ' You're accused of buying stolen di'monts, and we've got to see if it's true. If it ain't true, no harm'll be done you ; but you must fust of all put up that thing.' If the fellows' object in this parley was to distract the old Jew's attention from the move ment of his gang, it failed as completely as his argument to deceive him. Clutching Ikey's arm with one hand and his revolver with the other, Abrams neither moved nor spoke, but he noticed with increasing apprehension that the men were getting wider and wider apart with a view to com pletely surround him. Already their line was bending in the form of an arc, and they waited, he knew, only for a signal from their captain to make a rush and close upon him. Ikey's safety depended on his escaping before the rush, and seeing that every moment's delay made his chance the smaller, he loosened the child's arm, and said in a low tone of despair : ' Run, Ikey, for your life — run, my child ! ' Ikey wanted no second bidding ; his hero, David Grant, alone could save his grandfather, and with that belief he took to his heels and flew along the road they had come. 'Stop the dam little Jew,' roared the captain. ' He's got the swag ! — after him ! ' A long-legged vagabond dashed off in pursuit. 'Go it, Barney,' shouted the captain, 'lag the little devil.

We'll strip him, and if we don't find c old " blink-klippes " in his shirt, we'll rip the skin off his carcass.' With a shout of exultation Barney flew over the ground — one stride to four of Ikey's. The little chap, hearing the shout, looked behind him, stumbled and fell. In another moment Barney would have been upon him tear ing the clothes from his body in that savage greed of gain. Knowing this, Abrams, who had covered the wretch with his revolver, now pressed the trigger. The shot told, for intensity of purpose steadied the old man's arm, and with a yell Barney pitched forward into the dust, almost within arm's reach of his prey. Without lowering his arm, Abrams covered a second man who had started in chase and was following on Barney's heels. The fellow saw his fate and ducked ; but it was too late ; the bullet struck him in the loins ; he tumbled over and lay howling and writhing in a cloud of dust.

By this time Ikey had scrambled to his feet. Looking back, he saw his grandfather with his back to the overturned cart revolver in hand, and the enemy, daunted by the fate of their two com rades, standing irresolute at a distance. 'Oh, if he can only keep them standing there while I fetch Mr. Grant,' thought Ikey, as he pelted off over the plain. No one thought it advisable to follow him. But when he had run for five minutes, he heard four shots fired, and stopped to look back. A rolling pillar of dust obscured the spot — even the cart and bullocks were not to be seen. He listened ; not a sound reached his ear. Had each shot hit its mark as nicely as the first ? Were all those wretches stretched dead in the dust ? Oh, how he prayed that it might be so, yet the eddying cloud betokened a different conclusion, and Ikey ran again harder, more desperately than ever.

When he reached Grant's hut, he fell upon the threshold in the last stage of exhaustion, and could neither move nor cry for help. David whipped him up in his arms, and, seeing the wild terror in the child's face, divined the cause. ' Something happened on the road, Ikey ? ' he asked quickly. 'Granfaver — granfaver!' gasped Ikey, chok ing with the dust in his parched throat. David carried him into the next room and gave him a tin of water from the bucket. Ikey drained it without drawing breath ; then he ccrambled out of David's arms, gasping again: ' Granfaver — granfaver ! ' ' All right, laddie — I know what's the matter. Keep all your breath for running, my brave little c chap,' said David, picking up the bar of iron he used for breaking the clay. ' Come along.' They started out, David holding the little chap's hand, but, seeing that his forces were spent, he caught him up, slung him over his shoulder, and trotted along at a steady slogging pace.

All was still when they reached the spot where the fight had taken place. The cart was splintered to bits, boxes and sacks burst open and their contents scattered — everything wrecked in the search for the Jew's treasure; a patch of dust in the distance where the scoundrels were moving off with their waggon was the only sign of movement to be seen ; there were splashes of blood upon a deal box. As they stood there hand in hand, the man and the child spell-bound by an awful apprehension, a faint moan broke the terrible silence. Then Ikey, breaking away from Grant, drew back a sack and fell crying and laughing hysteric ally upon the body of his grandfather. ' Thank God,' muttered the old man faintly. 'All — all — all I prayed for. Ikey, my dear little Ikey — Mithter Grant, thir ! ' He turned his glazed eyes from one to the other with supplication in his livid face. 'All right, Abrams, I know.

I'll see that no harm comes to the little chap.' One word, thir,' gasped the old man with an effort. Grant bent low to catch the fainting sound, and heard something which made him doubt if he had heard aright. But before the question could be solved, the last breath rattled in the old Jew's throat. Then David raised the sobbing child from the dead breast with the consciousness that a new era was dawning on his life. But the strange vicissitudes of that eventful era — the passion, the sorrows, and the joys that this child was to bring into his life — were beyond the horizon of his imagination.

Chapter III. Happiness In

A HUT. Justice did not trouble herself nor anyone else much about the murder of Ben Abrams. She held an inquest on his body, ordered inquiries to be made, which resulted in nothing, and issued warrants which were never served ; then she shut her eyes and became blinder than ever. If Abrams had been robbed and not killed, the case might have ended otherwise, such law as existed in the Cape being exercised for the protection of property rather than for preserving the lives of old Jews — especially those suspected of dealing in stolen diamonds. The murder was forgotten in nine days, and no one thought any more of Ben Abrams save Ikey and David Grant. In reply to Grant's questioning, Ikey said : ' No, I ain't got no saver, no mower, no granfaver now — nobody in the world as cares for me ; and I don't know what I'm goin' to do all alone.' 'You shall stay with me, Ikey, till we do know,' answered Grant.

At which Ikey's teeth and eyes glistened again for the first time since his grandfather's death — past terrors being for gotten in the prospect of new joys. Grant had the dead pedlar decently buried, bought a new outfit of shirts and fitting clothes for Ikey, and other things necessary to the new requirements of his home, and then took Ikey back with him to the hut on the plain. That was a day of keen delight to the child. To live in a real house and sleep under a roof was in itself a wondrous happy experience to the little nomad, who, from the earliest moment of his recollection, had passed all his days and nights under the tilt of a waggon or on the powdery dust of the plains, where there was nothing to gratify the domestic cravings of his nature ; but to live in a house with David — alone with him whom he loved instinctively, and had learned to reverence from the respect and admiration in which his grand father held him as the only real gentleman in South Africa — to make his tea every day, and his breakfast as well, and his dinner also, perhaps — to be of use to him in some way, and win more and more love, outpaced all his happiest dreams.