The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) by John Pilkington (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📕

‘Let him spew his vile accusations!’ he cried. ‘He’s eager to damage me, and has been ever since I took his place as magistrate. Is it not so, Belstrang? I dare you to deny it!’

For a moment I made no reply; the meeting had turned out as I feared, and I was at least partly to blame. Drawing a breath, I looked down at my own report, still spread out on Standish’s table… whereupon a notion flew up from somewhere, and found its way into words.

‘Perhaps I should have mentioned that there is further evidence, which I’ve chosen to withhold until now,’ I said, summoning my bland look. ‘I was hoping you might act rightly and move to arrest Cobbett, this very day. But since you appear unwilling, I’m forced to keep it to myself.’

Silence fell. Boyd’s eyes flitted from me to Standish and back while the Justice, still on his feet, was breathing hard. I could read his thoughts: was Belstrang bluffing, or…

‘You lie,’ he said at last. But he sat down, somewhat heavily.

‘I beg your pardon?’ I threw back, my heart thudding. ‘Do you truly wish to accuse me of lying? If so, I’ll have no choice but to demand satisfaction…’

‘In God’s name!’ Boyd spoke up in exasperation. ‘This has become a comedy. Duelling’s unlawful, and-’

‘So it is, in theory,’ Standish broke in, his eyes fixed on mine. ‘The King disapproves strongly, and has legislated against it. But men with a grievance can always resort to a quiet place, and settle matters between themselves.’ He turned his gaze on Boyd. ‘Perhaps you will be called upon to be this man’s witness in somewhat different circumstances?’

‘I’ll be a party to no such thing, sir,’ Boyd retorted. ‘And I confess to a deep disappointment to see two magistrates – or one magistrate and one former – demeaning themselves in this manner. We are in knowledge of terrible crimes. Can you not put rivalries aside, and look to the matter in hand?’

He paused and looked at each of us in turn. ‘I speak of justice, sirs - or had you forgotten?’

My friend fell silent, but it was enough to shame me. Then, he had oft acted as my conscience. I threw him a look of approval, and waited. The silence dragged on, but Boyd’s words had proved effectual. Somewhat chastened, Standish gazed down at my report without seeing it, then finally looked up.

‘I will set things in motion, to bring Giles Cobbett in for questioning,’ he said quietly.

‘And what of Humphreys?’ I asked.

‘He will be questioned too, of course.’

I tried not to show my relief. For there were matters yet untangled, that weighed on me still.

‘The parson, Woolland,’ I said.

‘What of him?’ Standish demanded, with a look of suspicion.

‘Do you claim you knew nothing of his activities too?’

‘Most assuredly I do.’ The man was growing angry again. ‘And are you presuming to interrogate me now? You stretch license to its limits, Belstrang…’

‘Your pardon,’ I broke in, managing to contain myself. ‘But I was somewhat surprised to see you in private conversation with the man that morning in Powick, after the inquest. Mistress Dowling was there too, as I recall.’

Another of those moments passed, in which Standish seemed to be torn between making some dry response or losing his temper. This time he chose the former.

‘Mistress Dowling is an acquaintance, nothing more,’ he said in a flat tone. ‘As for Woolland…’ he allowed a frown to appear. ‘Since you are so concerned, I will tell you in confidence. I offered him some advice: to quit his living and depart for some other place, while he still had the chance.’

I met his gaze, but saw no guile… was there even a hint of disgust? But I believed the man, which brought some further relief. If I had harboured the least suspicion that Standish too shared Woollard’s and Cobbett’s tastes, I would have struggled in vain to contain my anger.

‘Well, he has heeded your advice,’ I said. ‘He assured Mistress Cobbett that he would never be seen again.’

Standish said nothing, but sat back and lowered his gaze. On a sudden he looked tired, and in no mood for further debate. It was time to leave: I caught Boyd’s eye, and signalled assent. But there was one thing more: a burning desire that I would not leave unaired.

‘Who will you send to bring Cobbett in?’ I asked. ‘Sergeant Lisle, and others?’

‘It’s likely he will be given the order,’ he replied… whereupon he sat up sharply. ‘I hope you’re not proposing to go along too? That would seem to be a matter of vengeance, given your sympathy for Cobbett’s daughters. I cannot-’

‘Allow it?’ I broke in. ‘Well, I fail to see on what grounds you can prevent me. I’m a private citizen with an interest-’

‘Nay sir, you overstep yourself,’ Standish broke in. ‘You may in time be called as a witness, and-’

‘I will relish that,’ I said, becoming heated again. ‘Yet I might remind you that I spoke of certain matters known to me alone, that touch on this whole affair. One of them…’ I paused, aware of Boyd groaning under his breath, but blundered on; I was determined, and would not be gainsaid.

‘One of them is an account of certain men who have enjoyed secret stipends from Giles Cobbett, to further his aims,’ I finished. ‘I name no names – as yet.’

It was a bluff, of course; but sometimes even a Justice may be susceptible to what I term the Minatio Celata - the Veiled Threat. Standish had stiffened, struggling to appear calm, but I saw it at last.

He was in Cobbett’s pay – and he suspected that I knew it. Henceforth, I had a notion he would be more amenable