The Glass Village полностью

“Might,” agreed Judge Shinn. “Might at that, Hube. Only thing is, a man who’s paralyzed, chronic invalid, hasn’t been out of his house for five years... might not look very good in the record.”

Hube Hemus thought this over. “Guess you’re right, Judge. But Mr. Shinn ain’t a voter. Ain’t even took up town residence. Maybe Sarah Isbel...”

“Why, Hube, that’s right!” said the Judge, looking relieved. “Never thought of Sarah at all. Just naturally figured if we got Sarah we’d lose Mert. But if you think Mert wouldn’t kick up a fuss...”

Burney Hackett spat into the spittoon at his feet. “That’s ridic’lous. He’d flick it up faster’n Orville’s herd bull.”

“And we’ve got to have twelve, Hube. At least twelve.” The Judge frowned. “Rather be irregular on a special ruling about one juror than go into court with fewer jurors than the law insists on and have the whole case ruled a mistrial afterwards by the Supreme Court of Errors.”

Hube Hemus wriggled. “Durn that Hosey Lemmon!”

“Of course, if we could get old Lemmon to change his mind, our problems are solved.”

“Can’t. Went lookin’ for Hosey myself late last night and couldn’t even find him. He’s lit out for somewheres... Mr. Shinn,” said Hemus suddenly, “hear you went over yesterday afternoon and talked to the tramp.”

“Oh?” said Johnny, startled. “Why, yes. Yes, Mr. Hemus, I did.”

“My suggestion, Hube,” the Judge put in, to Johnny’s relief. “Mr. Shinn’s had a heap of experience with criminals in the Army. Wanted to see if he could make Kowalczyk confess.”

“He ain’t confessin’ nothin’.” Hackett hit the spittoon again. “Knows better.”

Hemus’s whole head swiveled toward Johnny again. “Mert Isbel says he told you his cock-and-bull story.”

Johnny managed a sneer. “I did catch the prisoner in what appears to be a mighty big lie, Mr. Hemus.”

“’Bout the firewood?”

“That’s right.”

Hemus grunted. His jaws ground exasperatingly for a long time. Then he said to Judge Shinn, “Well, I guess we got no choice,” and he stumped out and got into his car and drove away.

Burney Hackett went into the back room to lock up the ledger.

“You’re in,” said the Judge softly.

Johnny found himself yawning.

The day’s next dream followed hard on the Hemus fragment. A few minutes past nine, County Coroner Barnwell showed up from Cudbury in a car driven by a redhaired man with golden freckles and a roving eye.

“My God, it’s Usher Peague of the Times-Press,” said Judge Shinn tragically. “Now we’re in the soup for fair. That Barnwell! Come on before Peague gets hurt!”

The car had been surrounded at the intersection by armed men. They pushed their way through, the Judge waving frantically.

“Hello, Ush! Barnwell, I want to see you.”

The editor of the Cudbury Times-Press grinned as he stood at bay beside his car. “It’s okay, men,” he was saying. “I haven’t got a thing on me but a pad and a pencil.” He waved at Johnny, whom he had interviewed with great skill the week before.

Judge Shinn said wrathfully to the coroner, “Barnwell, have you lost what little mind you have? I thought I’d made myself clear over the phone. Why did you tell Usher Peague, of all people!”

“I didn’t tell Peague,” retorted Coroner Barnwell, “Peague told me. He heard about it somewhere — from Doc Cushman, for all I know, or Cy Moody. A country newspaper gets automatic coverage on deaths, Judge; they’re one of its most important items. Peague queried me on it, and I thought I’d better bring him over myself rather than let him run around loose. You didn’t think you could keep this a secret from the newspapers forever?”

“I could hope. Well, we’ll have to face it. But what do we say to him?”

“If you want my advice,” said Johnny, “take Peague into your confidence. He’ll get the story anyway. For another thing, he edits a weekly paper that comes out on Thursdays. This is only Monday morning. By Thursday we ought to be well out of this thing. The only problem is to get Peague to agree not to tip off the wire services, and that’s no problem if he wants a scoop on the story.”

Judge Shinn convinced Hubert Hemus that the presence of the press was a necessary evil, and then he hustled Peague away from the villagers, who seemed to fascinate the Cudbury editor.

“Who’s declared war on whom, and who gets shot?” the newspaperman was saying. “What goes on here, Judge?”

“All in good time, Usher,” said the Judge soothingly. “How’s Remember?”

“She blooms. Listen, don’t con me! There’s something rotten in Shinn Corners, and I’m not leaving till I find out what.”

When Peague saw old Andy Webster in the Shinn house, his reddish eyes widened. “They got you away from your ’mums! This must be big. Come on, men. What’s the story?”

“Tell him, Johnny,” said Judge Shinn.