The Glass Village by Ellery Queen Page B

hands on him. Once, just once.”
    Judge Shinn looked at her as if he had never seen her before.
    Hackett and the Hemuses appeared on the church steps. As the Judge led the way through the group of women and children to meet them, Johnny noticed Mert Isbel’s daughter Sarah and her child hanging about the edge of the crowd. The woman’s face was lively. But the liveliness died as her father pushed by her. She drew away, gripping her little girl’s hand.
    â€œBurney, what’s the meaning of this?” cried Judge Shinn. “Locking him in a coalbin!”
    â€œGot no jail to lock him in, Judge,” said the constable.
    â€œHe shouldn’t be here at all! Have you notified Coroner Barn-well yet?”
    â€œI got to talk that over with Doc Cushman. Doc’s waitin’ for us over at Aunt Fanny’s.”
    â€œAll Dr. Cushman can legally do is bring in a finding that death was caused by a criminal act, and report that finding at once to Coroner Barnwell in Cudbury. From that point on, the case is in Barnwell’s hands. He will either summon a coroner’s jury of six electors—”
    â€œJudge.” Hubert Hemus’s gaunt face was granite, only the jaws moving, like millstones grinding away at the words to come. “For ninety-one years Fanny Adams belonged to the town. This is town business. Ain’t nobody goin’ to tell us how to run town business. Now you’re an important judge and you know the law and how things ought to be done, and we’ll be obliged for your advice as a judge and a neighbor. We’ll let Coroner Barnwell come down here and make his findin’s. If he wants a coroner’s jury, why, we got six qualified electors right here. We’ll do everythin’ legal. Ain’t nobody goin’ to deprive this murderin’ furrin trash of his legal rights. He’ll have his lawyer and he’ll have his chance to defend himself. But he ain’t leavin’ Shinn Corners, no matter what. ”
    A murmur formed behind them like an oncoming wave. The sound tickled Johnny’s scalp. He fought down another attack of nausea.
    Hube Hemus’s cheerless glance went out over his neighbors. “We got to get this organized, neighbors,” the First Selectman said. “Got to set a day and night guard over the prisoner. Got to set guards against outside meddlin’. Got to see that the milkin’s done—we’re a full hour late now!—got lots to do. Right now I b’lieve the big boys better get on home and attend to the cows. Mert, you can send Calvin Waters back in your wagon with Sarah and the child to do your milkin’; we need you here. We men stay and figger out what we got to do. The women with small children can take ’em home, give ’em somethin’ to eat, and put ’em to bed. Bigger children can watch over ’em. The women can get together and fix a community supper …”
    Somehow, the Judge and Johnny found themselves shut off. They stood about on the periphery, watching and listening, but groups fell silent and drifted apart at their approach.
    â€œIt must be me,” Johnny said to the Judge. “Shinn or no Shinn, I’m an outsider. Wouldn’t it make it easier all around, Judge, if I packed and got out?”
    â€œYou’d like that, wouldn’t you?” said the Judge scornfully.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” said Johnny.
    The Judge looked suddenly quite old. “Nothing. Nothing, Johnny. It has nothing to do with you. It’s me. I’ve sat on the bench in Cudbury for too many years to be en rapport with Shinn Corners. Hube Hemus has passed the word around.”
    It was from Ferriss Adams that they learned what had happened in the cellar of the church when the prisoner was brought down to the coalbin. Adams had the story from Samuel Sheare, whom he had sought out to discuss arrangements for Fanny Adams’s funeral. Mr. Sheare had been