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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:33:51 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:33:51 -0700 |
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diff --git a/10083-0.txt b/10083-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d24d16 --- /dev/null +++ b/10083-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12933 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10083 *** + +THE HOUSE OF THE WHISPERING PINES + +By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN + +1910 + +Author of + +“The Leavenworth Case,” “That Affair Next Door,” “One of My Sons,” etc. + + + + +“Mazes intricate, +Eccentric, interwov’d, yet regular +Then most, when most irregular they seem”. + +_Milton_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I + +SMOKE + + I.--THE HESITATING STEP + + II.--IT WAS SHE--SHE INDEED! + + III.--“OPEN!” + + IV.--THE ODD CANDLESTICK + + V.--A SCRAP OF PAPER + + VI.--COMMENTS AND REFLECTIONS + + VII.--CLIFTON ACCEPTS MY CASE + + VIII.--A CHANCE! I TAKE IT + + +BOOK II + +SWEETWATER TO THE FRONT + + IX.--“WE KNOW OF No SUCH LETTER” + + X.--“I CAN HELP YOU” + + XI.--IN THE COACH HOUSE + + XII.--“LILA--LILA!” + + XIII.--“WHAT WE WANT IS HERE” + + XIV.--THE MOTIONLESS FIGURE + + XV.--HELEN SURPRISES SWEETWATER + + XVI.--62 CUTHBERT ROAD + + XVII.--“MUST I TELL THESE THINGS?” + + XVIII.--ON IT WAS WRITTEN-- + + XIX.--“IT’S NOT WHAT YOU WILL FIND” + + +BOOK III + +HIDDEN SURPRISES + + XX.---“HE OR YOU! THERE IS NO THIRD” + + XXI.--CARMEL AWAKES + + XXII.---“BREAK IN THE GLASS!” + + XXIII.--AT TEN INSTEAD OF TWELVE + + XXIV.--ALL THIS STOOD + + XXV.--“I AM INNOCENT” + + XXVI.--THE SYLLABLE OF DOOM + + XXVII.--EXPECTANCY + +XXVIII.--“WHERE Is MY BROTHER?” + + +BOOK IV + +WHAT THE PINES WHISPERED + + XXIX.--“I REMEMBERED THE ROOM” + + XXX.--“CHOOSE” + + XXXI.--“WERE HER HANDS CROSSED THEN?” + + XXXII.--AND I HAD SAID NOTHING! + +XXXIII.--THE ARROW OF DEATH + + XXXIV.--“STEADY!” + + XXXV.--“As IF IT WERE A MECCA” + + XXXVI.--THE SURCHARGED MOMENT + + + + +BOOK ONE + +SMOKE + + + + +I + +THE HESITATING STEP + +To have reared a towering scheme +Of happiness, and to behold it razed, +Were nothing: all men hope, and see their hopes +Frustrate, and grieve awhile, and hope anew; +But-- + +_A Blot in the ’Scutcheon._ + + +The moon rode high; but ominous clouds were rushing towards it--clouds +heavy with snow. I watched these clouds as I drove recklessly, +desperately, over the winter roads. I had just missed the desire +of my life, the one precious treasure which I coveted with my +whole undisciplined heart, and not being what you call a man of +self-restraint, I was chafed by my defeat far beyond the bounds I have +usually set for myself. + +The moon--with the wild skurry of clouds hastening to blot it out of +sight--seemed to mirror the chaos threatening my better impulses; and, +idly keeping it in view, I rode on, hardly conscious of my course till +the rapid recurrence of several well-known landmarks warned me that I +had taken the longest route home, and that in another moment I should +be skirting the grounds of The Whispering Pines, our country clubhouse. +_I_ had taken? Let me rather say, my horse; for he and I had traversed +this road many times together, and he had no means of knowing that the +season was over and the club-house closed. I did not think of it myself +at the moment, and was recklessly questioning whether I should not +drive in and end my disappointment in a wild carouse, when, the great +stack of chimneys coming suddenly into view against the broad disk of +the still unclouded moon, I perceived a thin trail of smoke soaring up +from their midst and realised, with a shock, that there should be no +such sign of life in a house I myself had closed, locked, and barred +that very day. + +I was the president of the club and felt responsible. Pausing only long +enough to make sure that I had yielded to no delusion, and that fire of +some kind was burning on one of the club-house’s deserted hearths, I +turned in at the lower gateway. For reasons which I need not now state, +there were no bells attached to my cutter and consequently my approach +was noiseless. I was careful that it should be so, also careful to stop +short of the front door and leave my horse and sleigh in the black +depths of the pine-grove pressing up to the walls on either side. I was +sure that all was not as it should be inside these walls, but, as God +lives, I had no idea what was amiss or how deeply my own destiny was +involved in the step I was about to take. + +Our club-house stands, as it may be necessary to remind you, on a +knoll thickly wooded with the ancient trees I have mentioned. These +trees--all pines and of a growth unusual and of an aspect well-nigh +hoary--extend only to the rear end of the house, where a wide stretch +of gently undulating ground opens at once upon the eye, suggesting to +all lovers of golf the admirable use to which it is put from early +spring to latest fall. Now, links, as well as parterres and driveways, +are lying under an even blanket of winter snow, and even the building, +with its picturesque gables and rows of be-diamonded windows, is +well-nigh indistinguishable in the shadows cast by the heavy pines, +which soar above it and twist their limbs over its roof and about its +forsaken corners, with a moan and a whisper always desolate to the +sensitive ear, but from this night on, simply appalling. + +No other building stood within a half-mile in any direction. It was +veritably a country club, gay and full of life in the season, but +isolated and lonesome beyond description after winter had set in and +buried flower and leaf under a wide waste of untrodden snow. + +I felt this isolation as I stepped from the edge of the trees and +prepared to cross the few feet of open space leading to the main door. +The sudden darkness instantly enveloping me, as the clouds, whose +advancing mass I had been watching, made their final rush upon the +moon, added its physical shock to this inner sense of desolation, +and, in some moods, I should have paused and thought twice before +attempting the door, behind which lurked the unknown with its naturally +accompanying suggestion of peril. But rage and disappointment, working +hotly within me, had left no space for fear. Rather rejoicing in the +doubtfulness of the adventure, I pushed my way over the snow until my +feet struck the steps. Here, instinct caused me to stop and glance +quickly up and down the building either way. Not a gleam of light met +my eye from the smallest scintillating pane. Was the house as soundless +as it was dark? + +I listened but heard nothing. I listened again and still heard nothing. +Then I proceeded boldly up the steps and laid my hand on the door. + +It was unlatched and yielded to my touch. Light or no light, sound +or no sound there was some one within. The fire which had sent its +attenuated streak of smoke up into the moonlit air, was burning yet on +one of the many hearths within, and before it I should presently see-- + +Whom? + +What? + +The question scarcely interested me. + +Nevertheless I proceeded to enter and close the door carefully behind +me. As I did so, I cast an involuntary glance without. The sky was inky +and a few wandering flakes of the now rapidly advancing storm came +whirling in, biting my cheeks and stinging my forehead. + +Once inside, I stopped short, possibly to listen again, possibly to +assure myself as to what I had best do next. The silence was profound. +Not a sound disturbed the great, empty building. My own footfall, as +I stirred, seemed to wake extraordinary echoes. I had moved but a few +steps, yet to my heightened senses, the noise seemed loud enough to +wake the dead. Instinctively I stopped and stood stock-still. There was +no answering cessation of movement. Darkness, silence everywhere. Yet +not quite absolute darkness. As my eyes grew accustomed to the place, +I found it possible to discern the outlines of the windows and locate +the stairs and the arches where the side halls opened. I was even able +to pick out the exact spot where the great antlers spread themselves +above the hatrack, and presently the rack itself came into view, with +its row of empty pegs, yesterday so full, to-day quite empty. That rack +interested me,--I hardly knew why,--and regardless of the noise I made, +I crossed over to it and ran my hand along the wall underneath. The +result was startling. A man’s coat and hat hung from one of the pegs. + +I knew my business as president of this club. I also knew that no one +should be in the house at this time--that no one could be in it on any +honest errand. Some secret and sinister business must be at the bottom +of this mysterious intrusion immediately after the place had been +shut for the winter. Would this hat and coat identify the intruder? +I would strike a light and see. But this involved difficulties. The +gas had been turned off that very morning and I had no matches in my +pocket. But I remembered where they could be found. I had seen them +when I passed through the kitchen earlier in the day. They were very +accessible from the end of the hall where I stood. I had but to feel my +way through a passage or two and I should come to the kitchen door. + +I began to move that way, and presently came creeping back, with a +match-box half full of matches in my hand. But I did not strike one +then. I had just made a move to do so, when the unmistakable sound of a +door opening somewhere in the house made me draw back into as quiet and +dark a place as I could find. This lay in the rear and at the right of +the staircase, and as the sound had appeared to come from above, it was +the most natural retreat that offered. And a good one I found it. + +I had hardly taken up my stand when the darkness above gave way to a +faint glimmer, and a step became audible coming from some one of the +many small rooms in the second story, but so slowly and with such +evident hesitation that my imagination had ample time to work and fill +my mind with varying anticipations, each more disconcerting than the +last. Now I seemed to be listening to the movements of an intoxicated +man seeking an issue out of strange quarters, then to the wary approach +of one who had his own reasons for dread and was as conscious of my +presence as I was of his. + +But the light, steadily increasing with each lagging but surely +advancing step, soon gave the lie to this latter supposition, since no +sane man, afraid of an ambush, would be likely to offer such odds to +the one lying in wait for him, as his own face illumined by a flaming +candle, and I was yielding to the bewilderment of the moment when the +uncertain step paused and a sob came faintly to my ears, wrung from +lips so stiff with human anguish that my fears took on new shape and +the event a significance which in my present mood of personal suffering +and preoccupation was anything but welcome. Indeed, I was coward +enough to contemplate flight and might in another moment have yielded +to the unworthy impulse if the sound of a second sigh had not struck +shudderingly on my ear, followed by the renewal of the step and the +almost immediate appearance on the stairs of a young girl holding a +candle in one hand and shielding her left cheek with the other. + +Life offers few such shocks to any man, whatever his story or whatever +his temperament. I had been prepared by the sob I had heard to see +a woman, but not this woman. Nothing could have prepared me for an +encounter with this woman anywhere that night, after what had passed +between us and the wreck she had made of my life. But here! in a place +so remote and desolate I had hesitated to enter it myself! What was I +to think? How was I to reconcile so inconceivable a fact with what I +knew of her in the past, with what I hoped from her in the future. + +To steady my thoughts and bring my whirling brain again under +control, I fixed my eyes on her well-known form and features as upon +a stranger’s whom I would understand and judge. I have called her a +woman and certainly I had loved her as such, but as, in this moment +of strange detachment, I watched her descend, swaying foot following +swaying foot falteringly down the stairs, I was able to see that only +the emotions which denaturalised her expression were a woman’s; that +her features, her pose, and the peculiar childlike contour of the +one cheek open to view were those of one whose yesterday was in the +playroom. + +But beautiful! You do not often see such beauty. Under all the +disfigurement of an agitation so great as to daunt me and make me +question if I were its sole cause, her face shone with an individual +charm which marked her out as one of the few who are the making or +marring of men, sometimes of nations. This is the heritage she was +born to, this her lot, not to be shirked, not to be evaded even now +at her early age of seventeen. So much any one could see even in a +momentary scrutiny of her face and figure. But what was not so clear, +not even to myself with the consciousness of what had passed between +us during the last few hours, was why her heart should have so outrun +her years, and the emotion I beheld betray such shuddering depths. Some +grisly fear, some staring horror had met her in this strange retreat. +Simple grief speaks with a different language from that which I read in +her distorted features and tottering, slowly creeping form. What had +happened above? She had escaped me to run upon what? My lips refused +to ask, my limbs refused to move, and if I breathed at all, I did so +with such fierceness of restraint that her eyes never turned my way, +not even when she had reached the lowest step and paused for a moment +there, oscillating in pain or uncertainty. Her face was turned more +fully towards me now, and I had just begun to discern something in it +besides its tragic beauty, when she made a quick move and blew out +the candle she held. One moment that magical picture of superhuman +loveliness, then darkness, I might say silence, for I do not think +either of us so much as stirred for several instants. Then there came +a crash, followed by the sound of flying feet. She had flung the +candlestick out of her hand and was hurriedly crossing the hall. I +thought she was coming my way, and instinctively drew back against the +wall. But she stopped far short of me, and I heard her groping about, +then give a sudden spring towards the front door. It opened and the +wind soughed in. I felt the chill of snow upon my face, and realised +the tempest. Then all was quiet and dark again. She had slid quickly +out and the door had swung to behind her. Another instant and I heard +the click of the key as it turned in the lock, heard it and made no +outcry, such the spell, such the bewilderment of my faculties! But +once the act was accomplished and egress made difficult, nay, for the +moment, impossible, I felt all lesser emotions give way to an anxiety +which demanded immediate action, for the girl had gone out without +wraps or covering for her head, and my experience of the evening had +told me how cold it was. I must follow and find her and rescue her if +possible from the snow. The distance was long to town, the cold would +seize and perhaps prostrate her, after which, the wind and snow would +do the rest. + +Throwing myself against the door, I shook it violently. It was +immovable. Then I flew to the windows. Their fastenings yielded readily +enough, but not the windows themselves; one had a broken cord, another +seemed glued to its frame, and I was still struggling with the latter +when I heard a sound which lifted the hair on my head and turned my +whole attention back to what lay behind and above me. There was still +some one in the house. I had forgotten everything in this apparition +of the woman I have described in a place so disassociated with any +conception I could possibly have of her whereabouts on this especial +evening. But this noise, short, sharp, but too distant to be altogether +recognisable, roused doubts which once awakened changed the whole tenor +of my thoughts and would not let me rest till I had probed the house +from top to bottom. To find Carmel Cumberland alone in this desolation +was a mystifying discovery to which I had found it hard enough to +reconcile myself. But Carmel here in company with another at the very +moment when I had expected the fruition of my own joy,--ah, that was to +open hell’s door in my breast; a possibility too intolerable to remain +unsettled for an instant. Though she had passed out before my eyes +in a drooping, almost agonised condition, not she, dear as she was, +and great as were my fears in her regard, was to be sought out first, +but the man! The man who was back of all this, possibly back of my +disappointment; the man whose work I may have witnessed, but at whose +identity I could not even guess. + +Leaving the window, I groped my way along the wall until I reached the +rack where the man’s coat and hat hung. Whether it was my intention to +carry them away and hide them, in my anxiety to secure this intruder +and hold him to a bitter account for the misery he was causing me, or +whether I only meant to satisfy myself that they were the habiliments +of a stranger and not those of some sneaking member of the club, is of +little importance in the light of the fact which presently burst upon +me. The hat and coat were gone. Nothing hung from the rack. The wall +was free from end to end. She had taken these articles of male apparel +with her; she had not gone forth into the driving snow, unprotected, +but-- + +I did not know what to think. No acquaintanceship with her girlish +impulses, nothing that had occurred between us before or during this +night, had prepared me for a freak of this nature. I felt backward +along the wall; I felt forward; I even handled the pegs and counted +them as I passed to and fro, touching every one; but I could not alter +the fact. The groping she had done had been in this direction. She was +searching for this hat and coat (a man’s hat,--a derby, as I had been +careful to assure myself at the first handling) and, in them, she had +gone home as she had probably come, and there was no man in the case, +or if there were-- + +The doubt drove me to the staircase. Making no further effort to +unravel the puzzle which only beclouded my faculties, I began my wary +ascent. I had not the slightest fear, I was too full of cold rage for +that. + +The arrangement of rooms on the second floor was well known to me. I +understood every nook and corner and could find my way about the whole +place without a light. I took but one precaution--that of slipping off +my shoes at the foot of the stairs. I wished to surprise the intruder. +I was willing to resort to any expedient to accomplish this. The +matches I carried in my pocket would make this possible if once I heard +him breathing. I held my own breath as I stole softly up, and waited +for an instant at the top of the stairs to listen. There was an awesome +silence everywhere, and I was hesitating whether to attack the front +rooms first or to follow up a certain narrow hall leading to a rear +staircase, when I remembered the thin line of smoke which, rising from +one of the chimneys, had first attracted my attention to the house. In +that was my clue. There was but one room on this floor where a fire +could be lit. It lay a few feet beyond me down the narrow hall I have +just mentioned. Why had I trusted everything to my ears when my nose +would have been a better guide? As I took the few steps necessary, a +slight smell of smoke became very perceptible, and no longer in doubt +of my course, I pushed boldly on and entering the half-open door, +struck a match and peered anxiously about. + +Emptiness here just as everywhere else. A few chairs, a dresser,--it +was a ladies’ dressing-room,--some smouldering ashes on the hearth, a +lounge piled up with cushions. But no person. The sound I had heard +had not issued from this room, yet something withheld me from seeking +further. Chilled to the bone, with teeth chattering in spite of myself, +I paused just inside the door, and when the match went out in my hand +remained shivering there in the darkness, a prey to sensations more +nearly approaching those of fear than any I had ever before experienced +in my whole life. + + + + +II + +IT WAS SHE--SHE INDEED! + +Look on death itself!--up, up, and see +The great doom’s visage! + +_Macbeth_. + + +Why, I did not know. There seemed to be no reason for this excess of +feeling. I had no dread of attack; my apprehension was of another sort. +Besides, any attack here must come from the rear--from the open doorway +in which I stood--and my dread lay before me, in the room itself, +which, as I have already said, appeared to be totally empty. What +could occasion my doubts, and why did I not fly the place? There were +passage-ways yet to search, why linger here like a gaby in the dark +when perhaps the man I believed to be in hiding somewhere within these +walls, was improving the opportunity to escape? + +If I asked myself this question, I did not answer it, but I doubt if +I asked it then. I had forgotten the intruder; the interest which had +carried me thus far had become lost in a fresher one of which the +beginning and ending lay hidden within the four walls I now stared +upon, unseeing. Not to see and yet to feel--did that make the horror? +If so, another lighted match must help me out. I struck one while the +thought was hot within me, and again took a look at the room. + +I noted but one thing new, but that made me reel back till I was half +way into the hall. Then a certain dogged persistency I possess came to +my rescue, and I re-entered the room at a leap and stood before the +lounge and its pile of cushions. They were numerous,--all that the room +contained, and more! Chairs had been stripped, window-seats denuded, +and the whole collection disposed here in a set way which struck me as +unnatural. Was this the janitor’s idea? I hardly thought so, and was +about to pluck one of these cushions off, when that most unreasonable +horror seized me again and I found myself looking back over my shoulder +at the fireplace from which rose a fading streak of smoke which some +passing gust, perhaps, had blown out into the room. + +I felt sick. Was it the smell? It was not that of burning wood, hardly +of burning paper, I--but here my second match went out. + +Thoroughly roused now (you will say, by what?) I felt my way out of +the room and to the head of the staircase. I remembered the candle +and candlestick I had heard thrown down on the lower floor by Carmel +Cumberland. I would secure them and come back and settle these uncanny +doubts. It might be the veriest fool business, but my mind was +disturbed and must be set at ease. Nothing else seemed so important, +yet I was not without anxiety for the lovely and delicate woman +wandering the snow-covered roads in the teeth of a furious gale, any +more than I was dead to the fact that I should never forgive myself if +I allowed the man to escape whom I believed to be hiding somewhere in +the rear of this house. + +I had a hunt for the candlestick and a still longer one for the candle, +but finally I recovered both, and, lighting the latter, felt myself, +for the first time, more or less master of the situation. + +Rapidly regaining the room in which my interest was now centred, I set +the candlestick down on the dresser, and approached the lounge. Hardly +knowing what I feared, or what I expected to find, I tore off one of +the cushions and flung it behind me. More cushions were revealed--but +that was not all. + +Escaping from the edge of one of them I saw a shiny tress of woman’s +hair. I gave a gasp and pulled off more cushions, then I fell on my +knees, struck down by the greatest horror which a man can feel. Death +lay before me--violent, uncalled-for death--and the victim was a woman. +But it was not that. Though the head was not yet revealed, I thought I +knew the woman and that she--Did seconds pass or many minutes before +I lifted that last cushion? I shall never know. It was an eternity +to me and I am not of a sentimental cast, but I have some sort of a +conscience and during that interval it awoke. It has never quite slept +since. + +The cushion had not concealed the hands, but I did not look at them--I +did not dare. I must first see the face. But I did not twitch this +pillow off; I drew it aside slowly, as though held by the restraining +clutch of some one behind me. And I was so held, but not by what was +visible--rather by the terrors which gather in the soul at the summons +of some dreadful doom. I could not meet the certainty without some +preparation. I released another strand of hair; then the side of a +cheek, half buried out of sight in the loosened locks and bulging +pillows; then, with prayers to God for mercy, an icy brow; two staring +eyes--which having seen I let the cushion drop, for mercy was not to be +mine. + +It was _she_, she, indeed! and judgment was glassed in the look I +met--judgment and nothing more kindly, however I might appeal to Heaven +for mercy or whatever the need of my fiercely startled and repentant +soul. + +Dead! Adelaide! the woman I had planned to wrong that very night, and +who had thus wronged me! For a moment I could take in nothing but +this one astounding fact, then the how and the why woke in maddening +curiosity within me, and seizing the cushion, I dragged it aside and +stared down into the pitiful and accusing features thus revealed, as +though to tear from them the story of the crime which had released +me as I would not have been released, no, not to have had my heart’s +desire in all the fulness with which I had contemplated it a few short +hours before. + +But beyond the ever accusing, protuberant stare, those features told +nothing; and steeling myself to the situation, I made what observation +I could of her condition and the surrounding circumstances. For this +was my betrothed wife. Whatever my intentions, however far my love had +strayed under the spell cast over me by her sister,--the young girl who +had just passed out,--Adelaide and I had been engaged for many months; +our wedding day was even set. + +But that was all over now--ended as her life was ended: suddenly, +incomprehensibly, and by no stroke of God. Even the jewel on her finger +was gone, the token of our betrothal. This was to be expected. She +would be apt to take it off before committing herself to a fate that +proclaimed me a traitor to this symbol. I should see that ring again. I +should find it in a letter filled with bitter words. I would not think +of it or of them now. I would try to learn how she had committed this +act, whether by poison or-- + +It must have been by poison; no other means would suggest themselves +to one of her refined sense; but if so, why those marks on her neck, +growing darker and darker as I stared at them! + +My senses reeled as I scrutinised those marks. Small, delicate but +deadly, they stared upon me from either side of her white neck till +nature could endure no more and I tottered back against the further +wall, beholding no longer room, nor lounge, nor recumbent body, but a +young girl’s exquisite face, set in lines which belied her seventeen +years, and made futile any attempt on my part at self-deception when my +reason inexorably demanded an explanation of this death. As suicide it +was comprehensible, as murder, not, unless-- + +And it had been murder! + +I sank to the floor as I fully realised this. + + + + +III + +“OPEN!” + +PRINCE.--Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + +FRIAR.--I am the greatest, as the time and place Doth make against me, +of this direful murder; And here I stand, both to impeach and purge. +Myself condemned and myself excused. + +_Romeo and Juliet_. + + +I have mentioned poison as my first thought. It was a natural one, the +result undoubtedly of having noticed two small cordial glasses standing +on a little table over against the fireplace. When I was conscious +again of my own fears, I crossed to the table and peered into these +glasses. They were both empty. However, they had not been so long. In +each I found traces of anisette cordial, and though no bottle stood +near I was very confident that it could readily be found somewhere in +the room. What had preceded and followed the drinking of this cordial? + +As I raised my head from bending over these glasses--not club glasses, +by the way--I caught sight of my face in the mantel mirror. It gave me +maddening thoughts. In this same mirror there had been reflected but a +little while before, two other faces, for a sight of whose expression +at that fatal moment I would gladly risk my soul. + +How had _she_ looked--how that other? Would not the story of those +awful, those irrevocable moments be plain to my eye, if the quickly +responsive glass could but retain the impressions it receives and give +back at need what had once informed its surface with moving life! + +I stared at the senseless glass, appealed to it with unreasoning +frenzy, as to something which could give up its secret if it +would, but only to meet my own features in every guise of fury and +despair--features I no longer knew--features which insensibly increased +my horror till I tore myself wildly from the spot, and cast about for +further clues to enlightenment, before yielding to the conviction which +was making a turmoil in mind, heart, and conscience. Alas! there was +but little more to see. A pair of curling-irons lay on the hearth, +but I had no sooner lifted them than I dropped them with a shudder of +unspeakable loathing, only to start at the noise they made in striking +the tiles. For it was the self-same noise I had heard when listening +from below. These tongs, set up against the side of the fireplace had +been jarred down by the forcible shutting of the large front door, and +no man other than myself was in the house, or had been in the house; +only the two women. But the time when this discovery would have brought +comfort was passed. Better a hundred times that a man--I had almost +said any man--should have been with them here, than that they should +be closeted together in a spot so secluded, with rancour and cause for +complaint in one heart, and a biting, deadly flame in the other, which +once reaching up must from its very nature leave behind it a corrosive +impress. I saw,-I felt,--but I did not desist from my investigations. A +stick or two still smouldered on the hearthstone. In the ashes lay some +scattered fragments of paper which crumbled at my touch. On the floor +in front I espied only a stray hair-pin; everything else was in place +throughout the room except the cushions and that horror on the lounge, +waiting the second look I had so far refrained from giving it. + +That look I could no longer withhold. I must know the depth of the +gulf over which I hung. I must not wrong with a thought one who had +smiled upon me like an angel of light--a young girl, too, with the dew +of innocence on her beauty to every eye but mine and only not to mine +within--shall I say ten awful minutes? It seemed ages,--all of my life +and more. Yet that lovely breast had heaved not so many times since I +looked upon her as a deified mortal, and now two small spots on another +woman’s pulseless throat had drawn a veil of blood over that beauty, +and given to a child the attributes of a Medusa. Yet hope was not quite +stilled. I would look again and perhaps discover that my own eyes had +been at fault, that there were no marks, or if marks, not just the ones +my fancy had painted there. + +Turning, I let my glance fall first on the feet. I had not noted them +before, and I was startled to see that the arctics in which they +were clad were filled all around with snow. She had walked then, as +the other was walking now; she, who detested every effort and was of +such delicate make that exertion of unusual kind could not readily be +associated with her. Had she come alone or in Carmel’s company, and if +in Carmel’s company, on what ostensible errand if not that of death? +Her dress, which was of dark wool, showed that she had changed her +garments for this trip. I had seen her at dinner, and this was not the +gown she had worn then--the gown in which she had confronted me during +those few intolerable minutes when I could not meet her eyes. Fatal +cowardice! A moment of realisation then and we might all have been +saved this horror of sin and death and shameful retribution. + +And yet who knows? Not understanding what I saw, how could I measure +the might-have-beens! I would proceed with my task--note if she wore +the diamond brooch I had given her. No, she was without ornament; I had +never seen her so plainly clad. Might I draw a hope from this? Even +the pins which had fallen from her hair were such as she wore when +least adorned. Nothing spoke of the dinner party or of her having been +dragged here unaware; but all of previous intent and premeditation. +Surely hope was getting uppermost. If I had dreamed the marks-- + +But no! There they were, unmistakable and damning, just where the +breath struggles up. I put my own thumbs on these two dark spots to +see if--when what was it? A lightning stroke or a call of fate which +one must answer while sense remains? I felt my head pulled around by +some unseen force from behind, and met staring into mine through the +glass of the window a pair of burning eyes. Or was it fantasy? For in +another moment they were gone, nor was I in the condition just then to +dissociate the real from the unreal. But the possibility of a person +having seen me in this position before the dead was enough to startle +me to my feet, and though in another instant I became convinced that +I had been the victim of hallucination, I nevertheless made haste to +cross to the window and take a look through its dismal panes. A gale of +blinding snow was sweeping past, making all things indistinguishable, +but the absence of balcony outside was reassuring and I stepped hastily +back, asking myself for the first time what I should do and where I +should now go to ensure myself from being called as a witness to the +awful occurrence which had just taken place in this house. Should I go +home and by some sort of subterfuge now unthought of, try to deceive +my servants as to the time of my return, or attempt to create an alibi +elsewhere? Something I must do to save myself the anguish and Carmel +the danger of my testimony in this matter. She must never know, the +world must never know that I had seen her here. + +I had lost at a blow everything that gives zest or meaning to life, but +I might still be spared the bottommost depth of misery--be saved the +utterance of the word which would sink that erring but delicate soul +into the hell yawning beneath her. It was my one thought now--though +I knew that the woman who had fallen victim to her childish hate had +loved me deeply and was well worth my avenging. + +I could not be the death of two women; the loss of one weighed heavily +enough upon my conscience. I would fly the place--I would leave this +ghastly find to tell its own story. The night was stormy, the hour +late, the spot a remote one, and the road to it but little used. I +could easily escape and when the morrow came--but it was the present I +must think of now, this hour, this moment. How came I to stay so long! +In feverish haste, I began to throw the pillows back over the quiet +limbs, the accusing face. Shudderingly I hid those eyes (I understood +their strange protuberance now) and recklessly bent on flight, was half +way across the floor when my feet were stayed--I wonder that my reason +was not unseated--by a sudden and tremendous attack on the great door +below, mingled with loud cries to open which ran thundering through the +house, calling up innumerable echoes from its dead and hidden corners. + +It was the police. The wild night, the biting storm had been of no +avail. An alarm had reached headquarters, and all hope of escape on +my part was at an end. Yet because at such crises instinct rises +superior to reason, I blew out the candle and softly made my way into +the hall. I had remembered a window opening over a shed at the head of +the kitchen staircase. I could reach it from this rear hall by just +a turn or two, and once on that shed, a short leap would land me on +the ground; after which I could easily trust to the storm to conceal +my flight across the open golf-links. It was worth trying at least; +anything was better than being found in the house with my murdered +betrothed. + +I had no reason to think that I was being sought, or that my presence +in this building was even suspected. It might well be that the police +were even ignorant of the tragedy awaiting them across the threshold +of the door they seemed intent on battering down. The gleam of a +candle burning in this closed-up house, or even the tale told by the +rising smoke, may have drawn them from the road to investigate. Such +coincidences had been. Such untoward happenings had misled people into +useless self-betrayal. My case was too desperate for such weakness. +Flight at this moment might save all; I would at least attempt it. The +door was shaking on its hinges; these intruders seemed determined to +enter. + +With a spring I reached the window by which I hoped to escape, and +quickly raised it. A torrent of snow swept in, covering my face and +breast in a moment. It did something more: it cleared my brain, and I +remembered my poor horse standing in this blinding gale under cover +of the snow-packed pines. Every one knew my horse. I could commit no +greater folly than to flee by the rear fields while such a witness to +my presence remained in full view in front. With the sensation of a +trapped animal, I reclosed the window and cast about for a safe corner +where I could lie concealed until I learned what had brought these men +here and how much I really had to fear from their presence. + +I had but little time in which to choose. The door below had just given +way and a party of at least three men were already stamping their feet +free from snow in the hall. I did not like the tone of their voices, +it was too low and steady to suit me. I had rather have heard drunken +cries or a burst of wild hilarity than these stern and purposeful +whispers. Men of resolution could have but one errand here. My doom +was closing round me. I could only put off the fatal moment. But it +was better to do this than to plunge headlong into the unknown fate +awaiting me. + +I knew of a possible place of concealment. It was in the ballroom +not far from where I stood. I remembered the spot well. It was at +the top of a little staircase leading to the musicians’ gallery. A +balustrade guarded this gallery, supported by a boarding wide enough +to hide a man lying behind it at his full length. If the search I was +endeavouring to evade was not minute enough to lead them to look behind +this boarding, it would offer me the double advantage of concealment +and an unobstructed view of what went on in the hall, through the main +doorway opening directly opposite. I could reach this ballroom and +its terminal gallery without going around to this door. A smaller one +communicated directly with the corridor in which I was then lurking, +and towards this I now made my way with all the precaution suggested by +my desperate situation. No man ever moved more lightly. The shoes which +I had taken off in the lower hall were yet in my hand. I had caught +them up after replacing the cushions on Adelaide’s body. Even to my own +straining ears I made no perceptible sound. I reached the balcony and +had stretched myself out at full length behind the boarding, before the +men below had left the lower floor. + +An interval of heart-torture and wearing suspense now followed. They +were ransacking the rooms below by the aid of their own lanterns, as I +could tell from their assured manner. That they had not made at once +for the scene of crime brought me some small sense of comfort, but not +much. They were too resolute in their movements and much too thorough +and methodical in their search, for me to dream of their confining +their investigations to the first floor. Unless I very much mistook +their purpose, I should soon hear them ascending the stairs, after +which, instinct, if not the faint smell of smoke still lingering in the +air, would lead them to the room where my poor Adelaide lay. + +And thus it proved. More quickly than I expected, the total darkness +in which I lay, brightened under an advancing lantern, and I heard the +steps of two men coming down the hall. It was a steady if not rapid +approach, and I was quite prepared for their presence when they finally +reached the doorway opposite and stopped to look in at what must have +appeared to them a vast and empty space. They were officials, true +enough--one hasty glance through the balustrade assured me of that. I +even knew one of them by name--he was a sergeant of police and a highly +trustworthy man. But how they had been drawn to this place at a moment +so critical, I could not surmise. Do men of this stamp scent crime +as a hound scents out prey? They had the look of hounds. Even in the +momentary glimpse I got of them, I noted the tense and expectant look +with which they endeavoured to pierce the dim spaces between us. The +chase was on. It was something more than curiosity or a chance exercise +of their duty which had brought them here. Their object was definite, +and if the sight of the low gallery in which I lay, should suggest to +them all its possibilities as a hiding-place, I should know in just one +moment more what it is for the helpless quarry to feel the clutch of +the captor. + +But the moment passed without any attempt at approach on their part, +and when I lifted my head again it was to catch a glimpse of their side +faces as they turned to look elsewhere for what they were plainly in +search of. An oath, muffled but stern, which was the first word above +a whisper that I had heard issue from their lips, told me that they +had reached _the_ room and had come upon the horror which lay there. +What would they say to it! Would they know who she was--her name, +her quality, her story--and respect her dead as they certainly must +have respected her living? I listened but caught only a low murmur +as they conferred together. I imagined their movements; saw them in +my mind’s eye leaning over that death-tenanted couch, pointing with +accusing finger at those two dark marks, and consulting each other with +side-long looks, as they passed from one detail of her appearance to +another. I even imagined them crossing the floor and lifting the two +cordial glasses just as I had done, and then slowly setting them down +again, with perhaps a lift of the brows or a suggestive shake of the +head; and maddened by my own intolerable position, drawn by a power I +felt it impossible to resist, I crept to my feet and took my staggering +way down the half-dozen steps of the gallery and thence along by the +left-hand wall towards the further doorway, and through it to where +these men stood weighing the chances in which my life and honour were +involved, and those of one other of whom I dared not think and would +not have these men think for all that was left me of hope and happiness. + +It was dark in the ballroom, and it was only a little less so in the +corridor. All the light was in _that_ room; but I still slid along the +wall like a thief, with eyes set and ears agape for any chance word +which might reach me. Suddenly I heard one. It was this, uttered with a +decision which had the strange effect of lifting my head and making a +man of me again: + +“That settles it. He will find it hard to escape after this.” + +_He!_ I had been dreading to hear a _she_. Yet why? Who on God’s earth, +save myself, could know that Carmel had been within these woeful walls +to-night. _He!_ I never stopped to question who was meant by this +definite pronoun. I was not even conscious of caring very much. I was +in a coil of threatening troubles, but I was in it alone, and, greatly +relieved by the discovery, I drew myself up and stepped quickly forward +into the room where the two officials stood. + +Their faces, as they wheeled sharply about and took in my shoeless +and more or less dishevelled figure, told me with an eloquence which +made my heart sink, the unfortunate impression which my presence made +upon them. It was but a fleeting look, for these men were both by +nature and training easy masters of themselves; but its language was +unmistakable and I knew that if I were to hold my own with them, I must +get all the support I could from the truth, save where it would involve +her--from the truth and my own consciousness of innocence, if I had any +such consciousness. I was not sure that I had, for my falseness had +precipitated this tragedy,--how I might never know, but a knowledge +of the how was not necessary to my self-condemnation. Nevertheless my +hands were clean of this murder, and allowing the surety of this fact +to take a foremost place in my mind, I faced these men and with real +feeling, but as little display of it as possible, I observed: + +“You have come to my aid in a critical moment. This is my betrothed +wife--the woman I was to marry--and I find her lying here dead, in this +closed and lonely house. What does it mean? I know no more than you do.” + + + + +IV + +THE ODD CANDLESTICK + +It is a damned and a bloody work; +The graceless action of a heavy hand, +If that it be the work of any hand. + +_King John_. + + +The two men eyed me quietly, then Hexford pointed to my shoeless feet +and sternly retorted: + +“Permit us to doubt your last assertion. You seem to be in better +position than ourselves to explain the circumstances which puzzle you.” + +They were right. It was for me to talk, not for them. I conceded the +point in these words: + +“Perhaps--but you cannot always trust appearances. I can explain my +own presence here and the condition in which you find me, but I cannot +explain this tragedy, near and dear as Miss Cumberland was to me. I +did not know she was in the building, alive or dead. I came upon her +here covered with the cushions just as you found her. I have felt the +shock. I do not look like myself--I do not feel like myself; it was +enough--” Here real emotion seized me and I almost broke down. I was in +a position much more dreadful than any they could imagine or should be +allowed to. + +Their silence led me to examine their faces. Hexford’s mouth had +settled into a stiff, straight line and the other man’s wore a cynical +smile I did not like. At this presage of the difficulties awaiting me, +I felt one strand of the rope sustaining me above this yawning gulf +of shame and ignominy crack and give way. Oh, for a better record in +the past!--a staff on which to lean in such an hour as this! But while +nothing serious clouded my name, I had more to blush for than to pride +myself upon in my career as prince of good fellows,--and these men knew +it, both of them, and let it weigh in the scale already tipped far off +its balance by coincidences which a better man than myself would have +found it embarrassing to explain. I recognised all this, I say, in the +momentary glance I cast at their stern and unresponsive figures; but +the courage which had served me in lesser extremities did not fail me +now, and, kneeling down before my dead betrothed, I kissed her cold +white hand with sincere compunction, before attempting the garbled and +probably totally incoherent story with which I endeavoured to explain +the inexplainable situation. + +They listened--I will do them that much justice; but it was with such +an air of incredulity that my words fell with less and less continuity +and finally lost themselves in a confused stammer as I reached the +point where I pulled the cushions from the couch and made my ghastly +discovery. + +“You see--see for yourselves--what confronted me. My betrothed--a +dainty, delicate woman--dead--alone--in this solitary, far-away +spot--the victim of what? I asked myself then--I ask myself now. I +cannot understand it--or those glasses yonder--or _those marks!”_ They +were black by this time--unmistakable--not to be ignored by them or by +me. + +“We understand those marks, and you ought to,” came from the second +man, the one I did not know. + +My head fell forward; my lips refused to speak the words. I saw as in +a flash, a picture of the one woman bending over the other; terror, +reproach, anguish in the eyes whose fixed stare would never more +leave my consciousness, an access of rage or some such sadden passion +animating the other whose every curve spoke tenderness, whose every +look up to this awful day had been as an angel’s look to me. The vision +was a maddening one. I shook myself free from it by starting to my +feet. “It’s--it’s--” I gasped. + +“She has been strangled,” quoth Hexford, doggedly. + +“A dog’s death,” mumbled the other. + +My hands came together involuntarily. At that instant, with the memory +before me of the vision I have just described, I almost wished that it +had been _my_ hate, _my_ anger which had brought those tell-tale marks +out upon that livid skin. I should have suffered less. I should only +have had to pay the penalty of my crime and not be forced to think +of Carmel with terrible revulsion, as I was now thinking, minute by +minute, fight with it as I would. + +“You had better sit down,” Hexford suddenly suggested, pushing a chair +my way. “Clarke, look up the telephone and ask for three more men. I am +going into this matter thoroughly. Perhaps you will tell us where the +telephone is,” he asked, turning my way. + +It was some little time before I took in these words. When I did, +I became conscious of his keen look, also of a change in my own +expression. I had forgotten the telephone. It had not yet been taken +out. If only I had remembered this before these men came--I might have +saved--No, nothing could have saved her or me, except the snow, except +the snow. That may already have saved her. All this time I was trying +to tell where the telephone was. + +That I succeeded at last I judged from the fact that the second man +left the room. As he did so, Hexford lit the candle. Idly watching, +for nothing now could make me look at the lounge again, I noticed the +candlestick. It was of brass and rare in style and workmanship--a +candlestick to be remembered; one of a pair perhaps. I felt my hair +stir as I took in the details of its shape and ornamentation. If its +mate were in her house--No, no, no! I would not have it so. I could +not control my emotion if I let my imagination stray too far. The +candlestick must be the property of the club. I had only forgotten. It +was bought when? While thinking, planning, I was conscious of Hexford’s +eyes fixed steadily upon me. + +“Did you go into the kitchen in your wanderings below?” he asked. + +“No,” I began, but seeing that I had made a mistake, I bungled and +added weakly: “Yes; after matches.” + +“Only matches?” + +“That’s all.” + +“And did you get them?” + +“Yes.” + +“In the dark? You must have had trouble in finding them?” + +“Not at all. Only safety matches are allowed here, and they are put in +a receptacle at the side of each door. I had but to open the kitchen +door, feel along the jamb, find this receptacle, and pull the box out. +I’m well used to all parts of the house.” + +“And you did this?” + +“I have said so.” + +“May I ask which door you allude to?” + +“The one communicating with the front hall.” + +“Where did you light your first match?” + +“Upstairs.” + +“Not in the kitchen?” + +“No, sir.” + +“You are sure?” + +“Quite sure.” + +“That’s a pity. I thought you might be able to tell me how so many wine +and whiskey bottles came to be standing on the kitchen table.” + +I stared at him, dazed. Then I remembered the two small glasses on +the little table across the room, and instinctively glanced at them. +But no whiskey had been drunk out of them--the odor of anisette is +unmistakable. + +“You carry the key to the wine-cellar?” he asked. + +I considered a moment. I did not know what to make of bottles on the +kitchen table. These women and _bottles_! They abhorred wine; they +had reason to, God knows; T remembered the dinner and all that had +signalised it, and felt my confusion grow. But a question had been +asked, and I must answer it. It would not do for me to hesitate about a +matter of this kind. Only what was the question. Something about a key. +I had no key; the cellar had been ransacked without my help; should I +acknowledge this? + +“The keys were given up by the janitor yesterday,” I managed to stammer +at last. “But I did not bring them here to-night. They are in my rooms +at home.” + +I finished with a gasp. I had suddenly remembered that these keys were +not in my rooms. I had had them with me at Miss Cumberland’s and being +given to fooling with something when embarrassed, I had fooled with +them and dropped them while talking with Adelaide and watching Carmel. +I had meant to pick them up but I forgot and-- + +“You need say nothing more about it,” remarked Hexford. “I have no +right to question you at all.” And stepping across the room, he took +up the glasses one after the other and smelled of them. “Some sweet +stuff,” he remarked. “Cordial, I should say anisette. There wasn’t +anything like that on the kitchen table. Let us see what there is in +here,” he added, stepping into the adjoining small room into which I +had simply peered in my own investigation of the place. + +As he did so, a keen blast blew in; a window in the adjoining room was +open. He cast me a hurried glance and with the door in his hand, made +the following remark: + +“Your lady love--the victim here--could not have come through the snow +with no more clothing on her than we see now. She must have worn a hat +and coat or furs or something of that nature. Let us look for them.” + +I rose, stumbling. I saw that he did not mean to leave me alone for a +moment. Indeed, I did not wish to be so left. Better any companionship +than that of my own thoughts and of her white upturned face. As I +followed him into this closet he pushed the door wide, pulling out an +electric torch as he did so. By its light we saw almost at first glance +the coat and hat he professed to seek, lying in a corner of the floor, +beside an overturned chair. + +“Good!” left my companion’s lips. “That’s all straight. You recognise +these garments?” + +I nodded, speechless. A thousand memories rushed upon me at the sight +of the long plush coat which I had so often buttoned about her, with +a troubled heart. How her eyes would seek mine as we stood thus close +together, searching, searching for the old love or the fancied love of +which the ashes only remained. Torment, all torment to remember now, as +Hexford must have seen, if the keenness of his intelligence equalled +that of his eye at this moment. + +The window which stood open was a small one,-a mere slit in the wall; +but it let in a stream of zero air and I saw Hexford shiver as he +stepped towards it and looked out. But I felt hot rather than cold, and +when I instinctively put my hand to my forehead, it came away wet. + + + + +V + +A SCRAP OF PAPER + +Look to the lady:-- +And when we have our naked frailties hid, +That suffer in exposure, let us meet, +And question this most bloody piece of work, +To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us; +In the great hand of God I stand; and, thence, +Against the undivulg’d pretence I fight +Of treasonous malice. + +_Macbeth_. + + +Shortly after this, a fresh relay of police arrived and I could hear +the whole house being ransacked. I had found my shoes, and was sitting +in my own private room before a fire which had been lighted for me on +the hearth. I was in a state of stupor now, and if my body shook, as +it did from time to time, it was not from cold, nor do I think from +any special horror of mind or soul (I felt too dull for that), but in +response to the shuddering pines which pressed up close to the house +at this point and soughed and tapped at the walls and muttered among +themselves with an insistence which I could not ignore, notwithstanding +my many reasons for self-absorption. + +The storm, which had been exceedingly fierce while it lasted, had +quieted down to a steady fall of snow. Had its mission been to serve as +a blanket to this crime by wiping out from the old snow all tell-tale +footsteps and such other records as simplify cases of this kind for the +detectives, it could not have happened more _apropos_ to the event. +From the complaints which had already reached my ears from the two +policemen, I was quite aware that even as early as their first arrival, +they had found a clean page where possibly a few minutes before the +whole secret of this tragedy may have been written in unmistakable +characters; and while this tilled me with relief in one way, it added +to my care in another, for the storm which could accomplish so much in +so short a time was a bitter one for a young girl to meet, and Carmel +must have met it at its worst, in her lonesome struggle homeward. + +Where was she? Living or dead, where was she now and where was +Adelaide--the two women who for the last six weeks had filled my life +with so many unhallowed and conflicting emotions? The conjecture +passed incessantly through my brain, but it passed idly also and was +not answered even in thought. Indeed, I seemed incapable of sustaining +any line of thought for more than an instant, and when after an +indefinite length of time the door behind me opened, the look I turned +upon the gentleman who entered must have been a strange and far from +encouraging one. + +He brought a lantern with him. So far the room had had no other +illumination than such as came from the fire, and when he had set this +lantern down on the mantel and turned to face me, I perceived, with +a sort of sluggish hope, that he was Dr. Perry, once a practising +physician and my father’s intimate friend, now a county official of no +ordinary intelligence and, what was better, of no ordinary feeling. + +His attachment to my father had not descended to me and, for the +moment, he treated me like a stranger. + +“I am the coroner of this district,” said he. “I have left my bed +to have a few words with you and learn if your detention here is +warranted. You are the president of this club, and the lady whose +violent death in this place I have been called upon to investigate, is +Miss Cumberland, your affianced wife?” + +My assent, though hardly audible, was not to be misunderstood. Drawing +up a chair, he sat down and something in his manner which was not +wholly without sympathy, heartened me still more, dispelling some of +the cloudiness which had hitherto befogged my faculties. + +“They have told me what you had to say in explanation of your presence +here where a crime of some nature has taken place. But I should +like to hear the story from your own lips. I feel that I owe you +this consideration. At all events, I am disposed to show it. This +is no common case of violence and the parties to it are not of the +common order. Miss Cumberland’s virtue and social standing no one +can question, while you are the son of a man who has deservedly been +regarded as an honour to the town. You have been intending to marry +Miss Cumberland?” + +“Yes.” I looked the man directly in the eye. “Our wedding-day was set.” + +“Did you love her? Pardon me; if I am to be of any benefit to you at +this crisis I must strike at the root of things. If you do not wish to +answer, say so, Mr. Ranelagh.” + +“I do wish.” This was a lie, but what was I to do, knowing how +dangerous it would be for Carmel to have it publicly known where +my affections were really centred and what a secret tragedy of +heart-struggle and jealous passion underlay this open one of foul and +murderous death. “I am in no position to conceal anything from you. I +did love Miss Cumberland. We have been engaged for a year. She was a +woman of fortune but I am not without means of my own and could have +chosen a penniless girl and still been called prosperous.” + +“I see, and she returned your love?” + +“Sincerely.” Was the room light enough to reveal my guilty flush? She +had loved me only too well, too jealously, too absorbingly for her +happiness or mine. + +“And the sister?” + +It was gently but gravely put, and instantly I knew that our secret was +out, however safe we had considered it. This man was cognisant of it, +and if he, why not others! Why not the whole town! A danger which up to +this moment I had heard whispered only by the pines, was opening in a +gulf beneath our feet. Its imminence steadied me. I had kept my glance +on Coroner Perry, and I do not think it changed. My tone, I am quite +assured, was almost as quiet and grave as his as I made my reply in +these words: + +“Her sister is her sister. I hardly think that either of us would be apt +to forget that. Have you heard otherwise, sir?” + +He was prepared for equivocation, possibly for denial, but not for +attack. His manner changed and showed distrust and I saw that I had lost +rather than made by this venturous move. + +“Is this your writing?” he suddenly asked, showing me a morsel of paper +which he had drawn from his vest pocket. + +I looked, and felt that I now understood what the pines had been trying +to tell me for the last few hours. That compromising scrap of writing +had not been destroyed. It existed for her and my undoing! Then doubt +came. Fate could not juggle thus with human souls and purposes. I had +simply imagined myself to have recognised the words lengthening and +losing themselves in a blur before my eyes. Carmel was no fool even +if she had wild and demoniacal moments. This could not be my note to +her,--that fatal note which would make all denial of our mutual passion +unavailing. + +“Is it your writing?” my watchful inquisitor repeated. + +I looked again. The scrap was smaller than my note had been when it +left my hands. If it were the same, then some of the words were gone. +Were they the first ones or the last? It would make a difference in the +reading, or rather, in the conclusions to be drawn from what remained. +If only the mist would clear from before my eyes, or he would hold the +slip of paper nearer! The room was very dark. The--the-- + +“Is it your writing?” Coroner Perry asked for the third time. + +There was no denying it. My writing was peculiar and quite +unmistakable. I should gain nothing by saying no. + +“It looks like it,” I admitted reluctantly. “But I cannot be sure in +this light. May I ask what this bit of paper is and where you found it?” + +“Its contents I think you know. As for the last question I think you +can answer that also if you will.” + +Saying which, he quietly replaced the scrap of paper in his pocket-book. + +I followed the action with my eyes. I caught a fresh glimpse of a +darkened edge, and realised the cause of the faint odour which I had +hitherto experienced without being conscious of it. The scrap had been +plucked out of the chimney. She had tried to burn it. I remembered the +fire and the smouldering bits of paper which crumbled at my touch. And +this one, this, the most important--the only important one of them all, +had flown, half-scorched, up the chimney and clung there within easy +reach. + +The whole incident was plain to me, and I could even fix upon the +moment when Hexford or Clarke discovered this invaluable bit of +evidence. It was just before I burst in upon them from the ballroom, +and it was the undoubted occasion of the remark I then overheard: + +“_This settles it. He cannot escape us now_.” + +During the momentary silence which now ensued, I tried to remember the +exact words which had composed this note. They were few---sparks from +my very heart--I ought to be able to recollect them. + +“To-night--10:30 train--we will be married at P----. Come, come, my +darling, my life. She will forgive when all is done. Hesitation will +only undo us. To-night at 10 30. Do not fail me. I shall never marry +any one but you.” + +Was that all? I had an indistinct remembrance of having added some +wild and incoherent words of passionate affection affixed to her name. +_Her name_! But it may be that in the hurry and flurry of the moment, +these terms of endearment simply passed through my mind and found no +expression on paper. I could not be sure, any more than I could be +positive from the half glimpse I got of these lines, which portion had +been burned off,--the top in which the word _train_ occurred, or the +final words, emphasising a time of meeting and my determination to +marry no one but the person addressed. The first gone, the latter might +take on any sinister meaning. The latter gone, the first might prove a +safeguard, corroborating my statement that an errand had taken me into +town. + +I was oppressed by the uncertainty of my position. Even if I carried +off this detail successfully, others of equal importance might be +awaiting explanation. My poor, maddened, guilt-haunted girl had made +the irreparable mistake of letting this note of mine fly unconsumed +up the chimney, and she might have made others equally incriminating. +It would be hard to find an alibi for her if suspicion once turned +her way. She had not met me at the train. The unknown but doubtless +easily-to-be-found man who had handed me her note could swear to that +fact. + +Then the note itself! I had destroyed it, it is true, but its phrases +were so present to my mind--had been so branded into it by the terrors +of the tragedy which they appeared to foreshadow, that I had a dreadful +feeling that this man’s eye could read them there. I remember that +under the compelling power of this fancy, my hand rose to my brow +outspread and concealing, as if to interpose a barrier between him +and them. Is my folly past belief? Possibly. But then I have not told +you the words of this fatal communication. They were these--innocent, +if she were innocent, but how suggestive in the light of her probable +guilt: + +“I cannot. Wait till to-morrow. Then you will see the depth of my love +for you--what I owe you--what I owe Adelaide.” + +I should see! + +I was seeing. + +Suddenly I dropped my hand; a new thought had come to me. Had Carmel +been discovered on the road leading from this place? + +You perceive that by this time I had become the prey of every +threatening possibility; even of that which made the present a +nightmare from which I should yet wake to old conditions and old +struggles, bad enough, God knows, but not like this--not like this. + +Meantime I was conscious that not a look or movement of mine had escaped +the considerate but watchful eye of the man before me. + +“You do not relish my questions,” he dryly observed. “Perhaps you would +rather tell your story without interruption. If so, I beg you to be as +explicit as possible. The circumstances are serious enough for perfect +candour on your part.” + +He was wrong. They were too serious for that. Perfect candour would +involve Carmel. Seeming candour was all I could indulge in. I took a +quick resolve. I would appear to throw discretion to the winds; to +confide to him what men usually hold sacred; to risk my reputation as a +gentleman, rather than incur a suspicion which might involve others +more than it did myself. Perhaps I should yet win through and save her +from an ignominy she possibly deserved but which she must never receive +at my hands. + +“I will give you an account of my evening,” said I. “It will not aid +you much, but will prove my good faith. You asked me a short time ago +if I loved the lady whom I was engaged to marry and whose dead body I +most unexpectedly came upon in this house some time before midnight. I +answered yes, and you showed that you doubted me. You were justified +in your doubts. I did love her once, or thought so, but my feelings +changed. A great temptation came into my life. Carmel returned from +school and--you know her beauty, her fascination. A week in her +presence, and marriage with Adelaide became impossible. But how evade +it? I only knew the coward’s way; to lure this inexperienced young +girl, fresh from school, into a runaway match. A change which now +became perceptible in Miss Cumberland’s manner, only egged me on. It +was not sufficiently marked in character to call for open explanation, +yet it was unmistakable to one on the watch as I was, and betokened +a day of speedy reckoning for which I was little prepared. I know +what the manly course would have been, but I preferred to skulk. I +acknowledge it now; it is the only retribution I have to offer for a +past I am ashamed of. Without losing one particle of my intention, +I governed more carefully my looks and actions, and thought I had +succeeded in blinding Adelaide to my real feelings and purpose. Whether +I did or not, I cannot say. I have no means of knowing now. She has +not been her natural self for these last few days, but she had other +causes for worry, and I have been willing enough to think that these +were the occasion of her restless ways and short, sharp speech and the +blankness with which she met all my attempts to soothe and encourage +her. This evening”--I choked at the word. The day had been one string +of extraordinary experiences, accumulating in intensity to the one +ghastly discovery which had overtopped and overwhelmed all the rest. +“This evening,” I falteringly continued, “I had set as the limit to my +endurance of the intolerable situation. During a minute of solitude +preceding the dinner at Miss Cumberland’s house on the Hill, I wrote a +few lines to her sister, urging her to trust me with her fate and meet +me at the station in time for the ten-thirty train. I meant to carry +her at once to P----, where I had a friend in the ministry who would at +once unite us in marriage. I was very peremptory, for my nerves were +giving way under the secret strain to which they had been subjected +for so long, and she herself was looking worn with her own silent and +uncommunicated conflict. + +“To write this note was easy, but to deliver it involved difficulties. +Miss Cumberland’s eyes seemed to be more upon me than usual. Mine were +obliged to respond and Carmel seeing this, kept hers on her plate +or on the one other person seated at the table, her brother Arthur. +But the opportunity came as we all rose and passed together into the +drawing-room. Carmel fell into place at my side and I slipped the note +into her hand. She had not expected it and I fear that the action was +observed, for when I took my leave of Miss Cumberland shortly after, +I was struck by her expression. I had never seen such a look on her +face before, nor can I conceive of one presenting a more extraordinary +contrast to the few and commonplace words with which she bade me +good evening. I could not forget that look. I continued to see those +pinched features and burning eyes all the way home where I went to get +my grip-sack, and I saw them all the way to the station, though my +thoughts were with her sister and the joys I had planned for myself. +Man’s egotism, Dr. Perry. I neither knew Adelaide nor did I know the +girl whose love I had so over-estimated. She failed me, Dr. Perry. I +was met at the station not by herself, but by a letter--a few hurried +lines given me by an unknown man--in which she stated that I had asked +too much of her, that she could not so wrong her sister who had brought +her up and done everything for her since her mother died. I have not +that letter now, or I would show it to you. In my raging disappointment +I tore it up on the place where I received it, and threw the pieces +away. I had staked my whole future on one desperate throw and I had +lost. If I had had a pistol--” I stopped, warned by an uneasy movement +on the part of the man I addressed, that I had better not dilate too +much upon my feelings. Indeed, I had forgotten to whom I was talking. I +realised nothing, thought of nothing but the misery I was describing. +His action recalled me to the infinitely deeper misery of my present +situation, and conscious of the conclusions which might be drawn from +such impulsive utterances, I pulled myself together and proceeded to +finish my story with greater directness. + +“I did not leave the station till the ten-thirty train had gone. I had +hopes, still, of seeing her, or possibly I dreaded the long ride back +to my apartments. It was from sheer preoccupation of mind that I drove +this way instead of straight out by Marshall Avenue. I had no intention +of stopping here; the club-house was formally closed yesterday, as you +may know, and I did not even have the keys with me. But, as I reached +the bend in the road where you get your first sight of the buildings, I +saw a thin streak of smoke rising from one of its chimneys, and anxious +as to its meaning, I drove in--” + +“Wait, Mr. Ranelagh, I am sorry to interrupt you, but by which gate did +you enter?” + +“By the lower one.” + +“Was it snowing at this time?” + +“Not yet. It was just before the clouds rushed upon the moon. I could +see everything quite plainly.” + +My companion nodded and I went breathlessly on. Any question of his +staggered me. I was so ignorant of the facts at his command, of the facts +at any one’s command outside my own experience and observation, that the +simplest admission I made might lead directly to some clew of whose very +existence I was unaware. I was not even able to conjecture by what chance +or at whose suggestion the police had raided the place and discovered +the tragedy which had given point to that raid. No one had told me, and I +had met with no encouragement to ask. I felt myself sliding amid +pitfalls. My own act might precipitate the very doom I sought to avert. +Yet I must preserve my self-possession and answer all questions as +truthfully as possible lest I stumble into a web from which no skill of +my own or of another could extricate me. + +“Fastening my horse to one of the pine trees in the thickest clump I +saw--he is there now, I suppose--I crept up to the house, and tried the +door. It was on the latch and I stole in. There was no light on the lower +floor, and after listening for any signs of life, I began to feel my way +about the house, searching for the intruder. As I did not wish to attract +attention to myself, I took off my shoes. I went through the lower rooms, +and then I came upstairs. It was some time before I reached the--the room +where a fire had been lit; but when I did I knew--not,” I hastily +corrected, as I caught his quick concentrated glance, “what had happened +or whom I should find there, but that this was the spot where the +intruder had been, possibly was now, and I determined to grapple with +him. What--what have I said?” I asked in anguish, as I caught a look on +the coroner’s face of irrepressible repulsion and disgust, slight and +soon gone but unmistakable so long as it lasted. + +“Nothing,” he replied, “go on.” + +But his tone, considerate as it had been from the first, did not deceive +me. I knew that I had been detected in some slip or prevarication. As I +had omitted all mention of the most serious part of my adventure--had +said nothing of my vision of Carmel or the terrible conclusions which her +presence there had awakened--my conscience was in a state of perturbation +which added greatly to my confusion. For a moment I did not know where I +stood, and I am afraid I betrayed a sense of my position. He had to +recall me to myself by an unimportant question or two before I could go +on. When I did proceed, it was with less connection of ideas and a haste +in speaking which was not due altogether to the harrowing nature of the +tale itself. + +“I had matches in my pocket and I struck one,” I began. “Afterwards I lit +the candle. The emptiness of the room did not alarm me. I experienced the +sense of tragedy. Seeing the pillows heaped high and too regularly for +chance along a lounge ordinarily holding only two, I tore them off. I saw +a foot, a hand, a tress of bright hair. Even then I did not think of +_her_. Why should I? Not till I uncovered the face did I know the terrors +of my discovery, and then, the confusion of it all unmanned me and I fell +on my knees--” + +“Go on! Go on!” + +The impetuosity, the suspense in the words astounded me. I stared at the +coroner and lost the thread of my story--What had I to say more? How +account for what must be ever unaccountable to him, to the world, to my +own self, if in obedience to the demands of the situation I subdued my +own memory and blotted out all I had seen but that which it was safe to +confess to? + +“There is no more to say,” I murmured. “The horror of that moment made a +chaos in my mind. I looked at the dead body of her who lay there as I +have looked at everything since; as I looked at the police when they +came--as I look at you now. But I know nothing. It is all a +phantasmagoria to me--with no more meaning than a nightmare. She is +dead--I know that--but beyond that, all is doubt--confusion--what the +world and all its passing show is to a blind man. I can neither +understand nor explain.” + + + + +VI + +COMMENTS AND REFLECTIONS + +There is no agony and no solace left; +Earth can console, Heaven can torment, no more + +_Prometheus Unbound_ + + +The coroner’s intent look which had more or less sustained me through +this ordeal, remained fixed upon my face as though he were still +anxious to see me exonerate myself. How much did he know? That was the +question. _How much did he know_? + +Having no means of telling, I was forced to keep silent. I had revealed +all I dared to. As I came to this conclusion, his eyes fell and I knew +that the favorable minute had passed. + +The question he now asked proved it. + +“You say that you were not blind to surrounding objects, even if they +conveyed but little meaning to you. You must have seen, then, that the +room where Miss Cumberland lay contained two small cordial glasses, +both still moist with some liqueur.” + +“I noticed that, yes.” + +“Some one must have drunk with her?” + +“I cannot contradict you.” + +“Was Miss Cumberland fond of that sort of thing?” + +“She detested liquor of all kinds. She never drank I never saw a woman +so averse to wine.” I spoke before I thought. I might better have been +less emphatic, but the mystery of those glasses had affected me from +the first. Neither she nor Carmel ever allowed themselves so much as a +social glass, yet those glasses had been drained. “Perhaps the cold--” + +“There was a third glass. We found it in the adjoining closet. It had +not been used. That third glass has a meaning if only we could find it +out.” + +A possibility which had risen in my mind faded at these words. + +“Three glasses,” I dully repeated. + +“And a small flask of cordial. The latter seems pure enough.” + +“I cannot understand it.” The phrase had become stereotyped. No other +suggested itself to me. + +“The problem would be simple enough if it were not for those-marks on +her neck. You saw those, too, I take it?” + +“Yes. Who made them? What man--” + +The lie, or rather the suggestion of a lie, flushed my face. I was +conscious of this, but it did not trouble me. I was panting for relief. +I could not rest till I knew the nature of the doubt in this man’s +mind. If these words, or any words I could use, would serve to surprise +his secret, then welcome the lie or suggestion of a lie. “It was a +brute’s act,” I went on, bungling with my sentences in anxiety to see +if my conclusions fitted in with his own. “_Who was the brute_? Do you +know, Dr. Perry?” + +“There were three glasses in those rooms. Only two were drank from,” +he answered, steadily. “Tomorrow I may be in a position to answer your +question. I am not to-night.” + +Why did I take heart? Not a change, not the flicker of one had passed +over his countenance at my utterance of the word _man_. Either his +official habit had stood him in wonderful stead, or the police had +failed so far to see any connection between this murder and the young +girl whose footprints, for all I knew, still lingered on the stairs. + +Would the morrow arm them with completer knowledge? As I turned from +his retreating figure and flung myself down before the hearth, this was +the question I continually propounded to myself, in vain repetition. +Would the morrow reveal the fact that Adelaide’s young sister had been +with her in the hour of death, or would the fates propitiously aid her +in preserving this secret as they had already aided her in selecting +for the one man who shared it, him who of all others was bound by +honour and personal consideration for her not to divulge what he knew. + +Thus the hours between two and seven passed when I fell into a fitful +sleep, from which I was rudely wakened by a loud rattle at my door, +followed by the entrance of the officer who had walked up and down the +corridor all night. + +“The waggon is here,” said he. “Breakfast will be given you at the +station.” + +To which Hexford, looking over his shoulder, added: “I’m sorry to say +that we have here the warrant for your arrest. Can I do anything for +you?” + +“Warrant!” I burst out, “what do you want of a warrant? It is as a +witness you seek to detain me, I presume?” + +“No,” was his brusque reply. “The charge upon which you are arrested is +one of murder. You will have to appear before a magistrate. I’m sorry +to be the one to tell you this, but the evidence against you is very +strong, and the police must do their duty.” + +“But I am innocent, absolutely innocent,” I protested, the perspiration +starting from every pore as the full meaning of the charge burst upon +me. “What I have told you was correct. I, myself, found her dead--” + +Hexford gave me a look. + +“Don’t talk,” he kindly suggested. “Leave that to the lawyers.” Then, +as the other man turned aside for a moment, he whispered in my ear, +“It’s no go; one of our men saw you with your fingers on her throat. He +had clambered into a pine tree and the shade of the window was up. You +had better come quietly. Not a soul believes you innocent.” + +This, then, was what had doomed me from the start; this, and that +partly burned letter. I understood now why the kind-hearted coroner, +who loved my father, had urged me to tell my tale, hoping that I would +explain this act and give him some opportunity to indulge in a doubt. +And I had failed to respond to the hint he had given me. The act +itself must appear so sinister and the impulse which drove me to it +so incomprehensible, without the heart-rending explanation I dare not +subjoin, that I never questioned the wisdom of silence in its regard. + +Yet this silence had undone me. I had been seen fingering my dead +betrothed’s throat, and nothing I could now say or do would ever +convince people that she was dead before my hands touched her, +strangled by another’s clutch. One person only in the whole world would +know and feel how false this accusation was. And yesterday that one’s +trust in my guiltlessness would have thrown a ray of light upon the +deepest infamy which could befall me. But to-day there had settled over +that once innocent spirit, a cloud of too impenetrable a nature for any +light to struggle to and fro between us. + +I could not contemplate that cloud. I could not dwell upon her misery, +or upon the revulsion of feeling which follows such impetuous acts. And +it had been an impetuous act--the result of one of her rages. I had +been told of these rages. I had even seen her in one. When they passed +she was her lovable self once more and very penitent and very downcast. +If all I feared were true, she was suffering acutely now. But I gave no +thought to this. I could dream of but one thing--how to save her from +the penalty of crime, a penalty I might be forced to suffer myself and +would prefer to suffer rather than see it fall upon one so young and so +angelically beautiful. + +Turning to the officer next me, I put the question which had been +burning in my mind for hours: + +“Tell me, how you came to know there was trouble here? What brought you +to this house? There can be nothing wrong in telling me that.” + +“Well, if you don’t know--” he began. + +“I do not,” I broke in. + +“I guess you’d better wait till the chief has had a word with you.” + +I suppressed all tokens of my disappointment, and by a not unnatural +reaction, perhaps, began to take in, and busy myself with, the very +considerations I had hitherto shunned. Where was Carmel, and how was +she enduring these awful hours? Had repentance come, and with it a +desire to own her guilt? Did she think of me and the effect this +unlooked-for death would have upon my feelings? That I should suffer +arrest for her crime could not have entered her mind. I had seen her, +but she had not seen me, in the dark hall which I must now traverse as +a prisoner and a suspect. No intimation of my dubious position or its +inevitable consequences had reached her yet. When it did, what would +she do? I did not know her well enough to tell. The attraction she +had felt for me had not been strong enough to lead her to accommodate +herself to my wishes and marry me off-hand, but it had been strong +enough to nerve her arm in whatever altercation she may have had with +her jealous-minded sister. It was the temper and not the strength +of the love which would tell in a strait like this. Would it prove +of a generous kind? Should I have to combat her desire to take upon +herself the full blame of her deed, with all its shames and penalties? +Or should I have the still deeper misery of finding her callous to +my position and welcoming any chance which diverted suspicion from +herself? Either supposition might be possible, according to my judgment +in this evil hour. All communication between us, in spite of our +ardent and ungovernable passion, had been so casual and so slight. +Looks, a whispered word or so, one furtive clasp in which our hands +seemed to grow together, were all I had to go upon as tests of her +feeling towards me. Her character I had judged from her face, which +was lovely. But faces deceive, and the loveliness of youth is not like +the loveliness of age--an absolute mirror of the soul within. Was not +Medusa captivating, for all her snaky locks? Hide those locks and one +might have thought her a Daphne. + +What would relieve my doubts? As Hexford drew near me again on our way +to the head of the staircase, I summoned up courage to ask: + +“Have you heard anything from the Hill? Has the news of this tragedy +been communicated to Miss Cumberland’s family, and if so, how are they +bearing this affliction?” + +His lip curled, and for a minute he hesitated; then something in my +aspect or the straight-forward look I gave him, softened him and he +answered frankly, if coldly: + +“Word has gone there, of course, but only the servants are affected by +it so far. Miss Cumberland, the younger, is very ill, and the boy--I +don’t know his name--has not shown up since last evening. He’s very +dissipated, they say, and may be in any one of the joints in the lower +part of the town.” + +I stopped in dismay, clutching wildly at the railing of the stairs we +were descending. I had hardly heard the latter words, all my mind was +on what he had said first. + +“Miss Carmel Cumberland ill?” I stammered, “too ill to be told?” + +I was sufficiently master of myself to put it this way. + +“Yes,” he rejoined, kindly, as he urged me down the very stairs I had +seen her descend in such a state of mind a few hours before. “A servant +who had been out late, heard the fall of some heavy body as she was +passing Miss Cumberland’s rooms, and rushing in found Miss Carmel, as +she called her, lying on the floor near the open fire. Her face had +struck the bars of the grate in falling, and she was badly burned. But +that was not all; she was delirious with fever, brought on, they think, +by anxiety about her sister, whose name she was constantly repeating. +They had a doctor for her and the whole house was up before ever the +word came of what had happened here.” + +I thanked him with a look. I had no opportunity for more. Half a dozen +officers were standing about the front door, and in another moment I +was bustled into the conveyance provided and was being driven away from +the death-haunted spot. + +I had heard the last whisper of those pines for many, many days. But +not in my dreams; it ever came back at night, sinister, awesome, +haunted with dead hopes and breathing of an ever doubtful future. + + + + +VII + +CLIFTON ACCEPTS MY CASE + +This hand of mine +Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, +Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. +Within this bosom never enter’d yet +The dreadful motion of a murd’rous thought. + +_King John_. + + +My first thought (when I could think at all) was this: + +“She has some feeling, then! Her terror and remorse have maddened +her. I can dwell upon her image with pity.” The next, “Will they find +her wet clothes and discover that she was out last night?” The latter +possibility troubled me. My mind was the seat of strange contradictions. + +As the day advanced and I began to realise that I, Elwood Ranelagh, +easy-going man of the world, but with traditions of respectable living +on both sides of my house and a list of friends of which any man might +be proud, was in a place of detention on the awful charge of murder, I +found that my keenest torment arose from the fact that I was shut off +from the instant knowledge of what was going on in the house where all +my thoughts, my fears, and shall I say it, latent hopes were centred. +To know Carmel ill and not to know how ill! To feel the threatening +arm of the law hovering constantly over her head and neither to know +the instant of its fall nor be given the least opportunity to divert +it. To realise that some small inadvertance on her part, some trivial +but incriminating object left about, some heedless murmur or burst of +unconscious frenzy might precipitate her doom, and I remain powerless, +bearing my share of suspicion and ignominy, it is true, but not the +chief share if matters befell as I have suggested, which they were +liable to do at any hour, nay, at any minute. + +My examination before the magistrate held one element of comfort. +Nothing in its whole tenor went to show that, as yet, she was in the +least suspected of any participation in my so-called crime. But the +knowledge which came later, of how the police first learned of trouble +at the club-house did not add to this sense of relief, whatever +satisfaction it gave my curiosity. A cry of distress had come to them +over the telephone; a wild cry, in a woman’s choked and tremulous +voice: “Help at The Whispering Pines! Help!” That was all, or all they +revealed to me. In their endeavour to find out whether or not I was +present when this call was made, I learned the nature of their own +suspicions. They believed that Adelaide in some moment of prevision +had managed to reach the telephone and send out this message. But what +did I believe? What could I believe? All the incidents of the deadly +struggle which must have preceded the fatal culminating act, were +mysteries which my mind refused to penetrate. After hours of torturing +uncertainty, and an evening which was the miserable precursor of a +still more miserable night, I decided to drop conjecture and await the +enlightenment which must come with the morrow. + +It was, therefore, in a condition of mingled dread and expectation that +I opened the paper which was brought me the next morning. Of the shock +which it gave me to see my own name blotting the page with suggestions +of hideous crime, I will not speak, but pass at once to the few gleams +of added knowledge I was able to gather from those abominable columns. +Arthur, the good-for-nothing brother, had returned from his wild +carouse and had taken affairs in charge with something like spirit +and a decent show of repentance for his own shortcomings and the mad +taste for liquor which had led him away from home that night. Carmel +was still ill, and likely to be so for many days to come. Her case was +diagnosed as one of brain fever and of a most dangerous type. Doctors +and nurses were busy at her bedside and little hope was held out of +her being able to tell soon, if ever, what she knew of her sister’s +departure from the house on that fatal evening. That her testimony +on this point would be invaluable was self-evident, for proofs were +plenty of her having haunted her sister’s rooms all the evening in a +condition of more or less delirium. She was alone in the house and this +may have added to her anxieties, all of the servants having gone to the +policemen’s ball. It was on their return in the early morning hours +that she had been discovered, lying ill and injured before her sister’s +fireplace. + +One fact was mentioned which set me thinking. The keys of the +club-house had been found lying on a table in the side hall of the +Cumberland mansion--the keys which I have already mentioned as missing +from my pocket. An alarming discovery which might have acted as a +clew to the suspicious I feared, if their presence there had not been +explained by the waitress who had cleared the table after dinner. +Coming upon these keys lying on the floor beside one of the chairs, +she had carried them out into the hall and laid them where they would +be more readily seen. She had not recognised the keys, but had taken +it for granted that they belonged to Mr. Ranelagh who had dined at the +house that night. + +They were my keys, and I have already related how I came to drop them +on the floor. Had they but stayed there! Adelaide, or was it Carmel, +might not have seen them and been led by some strange, if not tragic, +purpose, incomprehensible to us now and possibly never to find full +explanation, to enter the secret and forsaken spot where I later found +them, the one dead, the other fleeing in frenzy, but not in such a +thoughtless frenzy as to forget these keys or to fail to lock the +club-house door behind her. That she, on her return home, should have +had sufficient presence of mind to toss these keys down in the same +place from which she or her sister had taken them, argued well for +her clear-headedness up to that moment. The fever must have come on +later--a fever which with my knowledge of what had occurred at The +Whispering Pines, seemed the only natural outcome of the situation. + +The next paragraph detailed a fact startling enough to rouse my deepest +interest. Zadok Brown, the Cumberlands’ coachman, declared that +Arthur’s cutter and what he called the grey mare had been out that +night. They were both in place when he returned to the stable towards +early morning, but the signs were unmistakable that both had been out +in the snow since he left the stable at about nine. He had locked the +stable-door at that time, but the key always hung in the kitchen where +any one could get it. This was on account of Arthur, who, if he wanted +to go out late, sometimes harnessed a horse himself. Zadok judged that +he had done so this night, though how the horse happened to be back and +in her stall and no Mr. Arthur in the house, it would take wiser heads +than his to explain. But he was sure the mare had been out. + +There was some comment made on this, because Arthur had denied using +his cutter that night. He declared instead that he had gone out on foot +and designated the coachman’s tale as all bosh. “I was not the only one +who had a drop too much down-town,” was the dogged assertion with which +he met all questions on this subject. “I wouldn’t give a snap of my +finger for Zadok’s opinion on any subject, after five hours of dancing +and the necessary drinks. There were no signs of the mare having been +out when I got home.” As this was about noon the next day, his opinion +on this point could not be said to count for much. + +As for myself, I felt inclined to believe that the mare had been out, +that one or both of the women had harnessed him and that it was by +these means they had reached The Whispering Pines. The night was too +cold, a storm too imminent, for them to have contemplated so long a +walk on a road so remote as that leading to the club-house. Arthur +was athletic but Adelaide was far from strong and never addicted to +walking under the most favourable conditions. Of all the mysteries +surrounding her dead presence in the club-house, the one which from +the first had struck me as the most inexplicable was the manner of her +reaching there. Now I could understand both that fact and how Carmel +had succeeded in returning in safety to her home. She had ridden both +ways--a theory which likewise explained how she came to wear a man’s +derby and possibly a man’s overcoat. With her skirts covered by a +bear-skin she would present a very fair figure of a man to any one who +chanced to pass her. This was desirable in her case. A man and woman +driving at a late hour through the city streets would attract little, +if any, attention, while two women might. Having no wish to attract +attention, they had resorted to subterfuge--or Carmel had; it was not +like Adelaide to do so. She was always perfectly open, both in manner +and speech. + +These were my deductions drawn from my own knowledge. Would others who +had not my knowledge be in any wise influenced to draw the same? Would +the fact that the mare had been out during those mysterious hours when +everybody had appeared to be absent from the house, saving the one +young girl whom they afterwards found stark, staring mad with delirium, +serve to awaken suspicion of her close and personal connection with +this crime? There was nothing in this reporter’s article to show that +such an idea had dawned upon his mind, but the police are not readily +hoodwinked and I dreaded the result of their inquiries, if they chose +to follow this undoubted clew. + +Yet, if they let this point slip, where should I be? Human nature is +human all the way through, and I could not help having moments when I +asked myself if this young girl were worth the sacrifice I contemplated +making for her? She was lovely to look at, amiable and of womanly +promise save at those rare and poignant moments when passion would +seize her in a gust which drove everything before it. But were any +of these considerations sufficient to justify me in letting my whole +manhood slip for the sake of one who, whatever the provocation, had +used the strength of her hands against the sister who had been as a +mother to her for so many years. That she had had provocation I did +not doubt. Adelaide, for all her virtues, was not an easy person to +deal with. Upright and perfectly sincere herself, she had no sympathy +with or commiseration for any lack of principle or any display of +selfishness in others. A little cold, a little reserved, a little +lacking in spontaneity, though always correct and always generous +in her gifts and often in her acts, her whole nature would rise at +any evidence of meanness or ingratitude, and though she said little, +you would feel her disapprobation through and through. She would +even change physically. Naturally pallid and of small inconspicuous +features, her eyes on these occasions would so flame and her whole +figure so dilate that she looked like another woman. I have seen her +brother, six feet in height and weighty for his years, cringe under her +few quiet words at these times till she absolutely seemed the taller +of the two. It was only in these moments she was handsome, and had I +loved her, I should probably have admired this passionate purity, this +intolerance of all that was small or selfish or unworthy a good woman’s +esteem. But not loving her, I had merely cherished a wholesome fear +of her displeasure, and could quite comprehend what a full display +of anger on her part might call up in her sensitive, already deeply +suffering sister. The scathing arraignment, the unbearable taunt--Well, +well, it was all dream-work, but I had time to dream and opportunity +for little else, and pictures, which till now I had sedulously kept in +the background of my imagination, would come to the front as I harped +on this topic and weighed in my disturbed mind the following question: +Should I continue the course which I had instinctively taken out of a +natural sense of chivalry, or face my calumniators with the truth and +leave my cause and hers to the justice of men, rather than to the slow +but righteous workings of Providence? + +I struggled with the dilemma for hours, the more so, that I did not +stand alone in the world. I had relatives and I had friends, some of +whom had come to see me and gone away deeply grieved at my reticence. +I was swayed, too, by another consideration. I had deeply loved my +mother. She was dead, but I had her honour to think of. Should it +be said she had a murderer for her son? In the height of my inner +conflict, I had almost cried aloud the fierce denial which would arise +at this thought. But ere the word could leave my lips, such a vision +rose before me of a bewildering young face with wonderful eyes and +a smile too innocent for guile and too loving for hypocrisy, that I +forgot my late antagonistic feelings, forgot the claims of my dear, +dead mother, and even those of my own future. Such passion and such +devotion merited consideration from the man who had called them forth. +I would not slight the claims of my dead mother but I would give this +young girl a chance for her life. Let others ferret out the fact that +she had visited the club-house with her sister; I would not proclaim +it. It was enough for me to proclaim my innocence, and that I would do +to the last. + +I was in this frame of mind when Charles Clifton called and was allowed +to see me. I had sent for him in one of my discouraged moods. He was +my friend, but he was also my legal adviser, and it was as such I +had summoned him, and it was as such he had now come. Cordial as our +relations had been--though he was hardly one of my ilk--I noted no +instinctive outstretching of his hand, and so did not reach out mine. +Appearances had been too strong against me for any such spontaneous +outburst from even my best friends. I realised that to expect otherwise +from him or from any other man would be to play the fool; and this was +no time for folly. The day for that was passed. + +I was the first to speak. + +“You see me where you have never thought to see a friend of yours. But +we won’t go into that. The police have good reasons for what they have +done and I presume feel justified in my commitment. Notwithstanding, I +am an innocent man so far as the attack made upon Miss Cumberland goes. +I had no hand in her murder, if murder it is found out to be. My story +which you have read in the papers and which I felt forced to give out, +possibly to my own shame and that of another whom I would fain have +saved, is an absolutely true one. I did not arrive at The Whispering +Pines until after Miss Cumberland was dead. To this I am ready to +swear and it is upon this fact you must rely, in any defence you may +hereafter be called upon to make in my regard.” + +He listened as a lawyer would be apt to listen to such statements from +the man who had summoned him to his aid. But I saw that I had made no +impression on his convictions. He regarded me as a guilty man, and what +was more to the point no doubt, as one for whom no plea could be made +or any rational defence undertaken. + +“You don’t believe me,” I went on, still without any great bitterness. +“I am not surprised at it, after what the man Clarke has said of seeing +me with my hands on her throat. Any man, friend or not, would take me +for a villain after that. But, Charles, to you I will confess what +cowardice kept me from owning to Dr. Perry at the proper, possibly at +the only proper moment, that I did this out of a wild desire to see +if those marks were really the marks of strangling fingers. I could +not believe that she had been so killed and, led away by my doubts, I +leaned over her and--You shall believe me, you must,” I insisted, as +I perceived his hard gaze remain unsoftened. “I don’t ask it of the +rest of the world. I hardly expect any one to give me credit for good +impulses or even for speaking the plain truth after the discovery which +has been made of my treacherous attitude towards these two virtuous and +devoted women. But you--if you are to act as my counsel--must take this +denial from me as gospel truth. I may disappoint you in other ways. +I may try you and often make you regret that you undertook my case, +but on this fact you may safely pin your faith. She was dead before I +touched her. Had the police spy whose testimony is likely to hang me, +climbed the tree a moment sooner than he did, he would have seen that. +Are you ready to take my case?” + +Clifton is a fair fellow and I knew if he once accepted the fact I thus +urged upon him, he would work for me with all the skill and ability +my desperate situation demanded. I, therefore, watched him with great +anxiety for the least change in the constrained attitude and fixed, +unpromising gaze with which he had listened to me, and was conscious of +a great leap of heart as the set expression of his features relaxed, +and he responded almost warmly: + +“I will take your case, Ranelagh. God help me to make it good against +all odds.” + +I was conscious of few hopes, but some of the oppression under which I +laboured lifted at those words. I had assured one man of my innocence! +It was like a great rock in the weary desert. My sigh of relief bespoke +my feelings and I longed to take his hand, but the moment had not yet +come. Something was wanting to a perfect confidence between us, and I +was in too sensitive a frame of mind to risk the slightest rebuff. + +He was ready to speak before I was. “Then, you had not been long on the +scene of crime when the police arrived?” + +“I had been in the room but a few minutes. I do not know how long I was +searching the house.” + +“The police say that fully twenty minutes elapsed between the time they +received Miss Cumberland’s appeal for help and their arrival at the +club-house. If you were there that long--” + +“I cannot say. Moments are hours at such a crisis--I--” + +My emotions were too much for me, and I confusedly stopped. He was +surveying me with the old distrust. In a moment I saw why. + +“You are not open with me,” he protested. “Why should moments be hours +to you previous to the instant when you stripped those pillows from the +couch? You are not a fanciful man, nor have you any cowardly instincts. +Why were you in such a turmoil going through a house where you could +have expected to find nothing worse than some miserable sneak thief?” + +This was a poser. I had laid myself open to suspicion by one +thoughtless admission, and what was worse, it was but the beginning +in all probability of many other possible mistakes. I had never taken +the trouble to measure my words and the whole truth being impossible, +I necessarily must make a slip now and then. He had better be warned +of this. I did not wish him to undertake my cause blindfolded. He must +understand its difficulties while believing in my innocence. Then, +if he chose to draw back, well and good. I should have to face the +situation alone. + +“Charles,” said I, as soon as I could perfectly control my speech, “you +are quite just in your remark. I am not and can not be perfectly open +with you. I shall tell you no lies, but beyond that I cannot promise. I +am caught in a net not altogether of my own weaving. So far I will be +frank with you. A common question may trip me up, others find me free +and ready with my defence. You have chanced upon one of the former. I +was in a turmoil of mind from the moment of my entrance into that fatal +house, but I can give no reason for it unless I am, as you hinted, a +coward.” + +He settled that supposition with a gesture I had rather not have seen. +It would be better for him to consider me a poltroon than to suspect my +real reasons for the agitation which I had acknowledged. + +“You say you cannot be open with me. That means you have certain +memories connected with that night which you cannot divulge.” + +“Right, Charles; but not memories of guilt--of active guilt, I mean. +This I have previously insisted on, and this is what you must believe. +I am not even an accessory before the fact. I am perfectly innocent so +far as Adelaide’s death is concerned. You may proceed on that basis +without fear. That is, if you continue to take an interest in my case. +If not, I shall be the last to blame you. Little honour is likely to +accrue to you from defending me.” + +“I have accepted the case and I shall continue to interest myself in +it,” he assured me, with a dogged rather than genial persistence. “But +I should like to know what I am to work upon, if it cannot be shown +that her call for help came before you entered the building.” + +“That would be the best defence possible, of course,” I replied; “but +neither from your standpoint nor mine is it a feasible one. I have no +proof of my assertion, I never looked at my watch from the time I left +the station till I found it run down this very morning. The club-house +clock has been out of order for some time and was not running. All I +know and can swear to about the length of time I was in that building +prior to the arrival of the police, is that it could not have been very +long, since she was not only dead and buried under those accumulated +cushions, but in a room some little distance from the telephone.” + +“That will do for me,” said he, “but scarcely for those who are +prejudiced against you. Everything points so indisputably to your +guilt. The note which you say you wrote to Carmel to meet you at the +station looks very much more like one to Miss Cumberland to meet you at +the club-house.” + +It was thus I first learned which part of this letter had been burned +off.[1] + + [1] It was the top portion, leaving the rest to read: + + _“Come, come my darling, my life. She will forgive when all is done. + Hesitation will only undo us. To-night at 10:30. I shall never marry + any one but you.”_ + + It was also evident that I had failed to add those expressions of + affection linked to Carmel’s name which had been in my mind and + awakened my keenest apprehension. + +“Otherwise,” he pursued, “what could have taken her there? Everybody +who knew her will ask that. Such a night! so soon after seeing you! +It is a mystery any way, but one entirely inconceivable without some +such excuse for her. These lines said ‘Come!’ and she went, for reasons +which may be clear to you who were acquainted with her weak as well as +strong points. Went how? No one knows. By chance or by intention on +her part or yours, every servant was out of the house by nine o’clock, +and her brother, too. Only the sister remained, the sister whom you +profess to have urged to leave the town with you that very evening; +and she can tell us nothing,--may die without ever being able to do +so. Some shock to her feelings--you may know its character and you +may not--drove her from a state of apparent health into the wildest +delirium in a few hours. It was not your letter--if your story is true +about that letter--or she would have shown its effect immediately upon +receiving it; that is, in the early evening. And she did not. Helen, +one of the maids, declares that she saw her some time after you left +the house, and that she wore anything but a troubled look; that, in +fact, her countenance was beaming and so beautiful that, accustomed +as the girl was to her young mistress’s good looks, she was more than +struck by her appearance and spoke of it afterwards at the ball. A +telling circumstance against you, Ranelagh, not only contradicting your +own story but showing that her after condition sprang from some sudden +and extreme apprehension in connection with her sister. Did you speak?” + +No, I had not spoken. I had nothing to say. I was too deeply shaken +by what he had just told me, to experience anything but the utmost +confusion of ideas. Carmel beaming and beautiful at an hour I had +supposed her suffering and full of struggle! I could not reconcile it +with the letter she had written me, or with that understanding with her +sister which ended so hideously in The Whispering Pines. + +The lawyer, seeing my helpless state, proceeded with his presentation +of my case as it looked to unprejudiced eyes. + +“Miss Cumberland comes to the club-house; so do you. You have not the +keys and so go searching about the building till you find an unlocked +window by which you both enter. There are those who say you purposely +left this window unfastened when you went about the house the day +before; that you dropped the keys in her house where they would be +sure to be found, and drove down to the station and stood about there +for a good half hour, in order to divert suspicion from yourself +afterwards and create an alibi in case it should be wanted. I do not +believe any of this myself, not since accepting your assurance of +innocence, but there are those who do believe it firmly and discern +in the whole affair a cool and premeditated murder. Your passion for +Carmel, while not generally known, has not passed unsuspected by your +or her intimates; and this in itself is enough to give colour to these +suspicions, even if you had not gone so far as to admit its power over +you and the extremes to which you were willing to go to secure the wife +you wished. So much for the situation as it appears to outsiders. Of +the circumstantial evidence which links you personally to this crime, +we have already spoken. It is very strong and apparently unassailable. +But truth is truth, and if you only felt free to bare your whole soul +to me as you now decline to do, I should not despair of finding some +weak link in the chain which seems so satisfactory to the police and, I +am forced to add, to the general public.” + +“Charles--” + +I was very near unbosoming myself to him at that moment. But I caught +myself back in time. While Carmel lay ill and unconscious, I would not +clear my name at her expense by so much as a suggestion. + +“Charles,” I repeated, but in a different tone and with a different +purpose, “how do they account for the cordial that was drunk--the two +emptied glasses and the flask which were found in the adjacent closet?” + +“It’s one of the affair’s conceded incongruities. Miss Cumberland is a +well-known temperance woman. Had the flask and glasses not come from +her house, you would get no one to believe that she had had anything to +do with them. Have you any hint to give on this point? It would be a +welcome addition to our case.” + +Alas! I was as much puzzled by those emptied cordial glasses as he +was, and told him so; also by the presence of the third unused one. +As I dwelt in thought on the latter circumstance, I remembered the +observation which Coroner Perry had made concerning it. + +“Coroner Perry speaks of a third and unused glass which was found +with the flask,” I ventured, tentatively. “He seemed to consider it +an important item, hiding some truth that would materially help this +case. What do you think, or rather, what is the general opinion on this +point?” + +“I have not heard. I have seen the fact mentioned, but without comment. +It is a curious circumstance. I will make a note of it. You have no +suggestions to offer on the subject?” + +“None.” + +“The clew is a small one,” he smiled. + +“So is the one offered by the array of bottles found on the kitchen +table; yet the latter may lead directly to the truth. Adelaide never +dug those out of the cellar where they were locked up, and I’m sure I +did not. Yet I suppose I’m given credit for doing so.” + +“Naturally. The key to the wine-vault was the only key which was +lacking from the bunch left at Miss Cumberland’s. That it was used to +open the wine-vault door is evident from the fact that it was found in +the lock.” + +This was discouraging. Everything was against me. If the whole affair +had been planned with an intent to inculpate me and me only, it +could not have been done with more attention to detail, nor could I +have found myself more completely enmeshed. Yet I knew, both from +circumstances and my own instinct that no such planning had occurred. +I was a victim, not of malice but of blind chance, or shall I say of +Providence? As to this one key having been slipped from the rest and +used to open the wine-vault for wine which nobody wanted and nobody +drank--this must be classed with the other incongruities which might +yet lead to my enlargement. + +“You may add this coincidence to the other,” I conceded, after I had +gone thus far in my own mind. “I swear that I had nothing to do with +that key.” + +Neither could I believe that it had been used or even carried there by +Adelaide or Carmel, though I knew that the full ring of keys had been +in their hands and that they had entered the building by means of one +of them. So assured was I of their innocence in this regard that the +idea which afterwards assumed such proportions in all our minds had, at +this moment, its first dawning in mine, as well as its first outward +expression. + +“Some other man than myself was thirsty that night,” I firmly declared. +“We are getting on, Charles.” + +Evidently he did not consider the pace a very fast one, but being a +cheerful fellow by nature, he simply expressed his dissatisfaction by +an imperceptible shrug. + +“Do you know exactly what the club-house’s wine-vault contained?” he +asked. + +“An inventory was given me by the steward the morning we closed. It +must be in my rooms.” + +“Your rooms have been examined. You expected that, didn’t you? Probably +this inventory has been found. I don’t suppose it will help any.” + +“How should it?” + +“Very true; how should it! No thoroughfare there, of course.” + +“No thoroughfare anywhere to-day,” I exclaimed. “To-morrow some +loop-hole of escape may suggest itself to me. I should like to sleep on +the matter. I--I should like to sleep on it.” + +He saw that I had something in mind of which I had thus far given him +no intimation, and he waited anxiously for me to reconsider my last +words before he earnestly remarked: + +“A day lost at a time like this is often a day never retrieved. Think +well before you bid me leave you, unenlightened as to the direction in +which you wish me to work.” + +But I was not ready, not by any means ready, and he detected this when +I next spoke. + +“I will see you to-morrow; any time to-morrow; meantime I will give you +a commission which you are at liberty to perform yourself or to entrust +to some capable detective. The letter, of which a portion remains, +_was_ written to Carmel, and she sent me a reply which was handed me +on the station platform by a man who was a perfect stranger to me. I +have hardly any memory of how the man looked, but it should be an easy +task to find him and if you cannot do that, the smallest scrap of the +note he gave me, and which unfortunately I tore up and scattered to the +winds, would prove my veracity in this one particular and so make it +easier for them to believe the rest.” + +His eye lightened. I presume the prospect of making any practical +attempt in my behalf was welcome. + +“One thing more,” I now added. “My ring was missing from Miss +Cumberland’s hand when I took away those pillows. I have reason to +think--or it is natural for me to think--that she planned to return +it to me by some messenger or in some letter. Do you know if such +messenger or such letter has been received at my apartments? Have you +heard anything about this ring? It was a notable one and not to be +confounded with any other. Any one who knew us or who had ever remarked +it on her hand would be able to identify it.” + +“I have heard the ring mentioned,” he replied, “I have even heard that +the police are interested in finding it; but I have not heard that they +have been successful. You encourage me much by assuring me that it was +missing from her hand when you first saw her. That ring may prove our +most valuable clew.” + +“Yes, but you must also remember that she may have taken it off before +she started for the club-house.” + +“That is very true.” + +“You do not know whether they have looked for it at her home?” + +“I do not.” + +“Will you find out, and will you see that I get all my letters?” + +“I certainly will, but you must not expect to receive the latter +unopened.” + +“I suppose not.” + +I said this with more cheerfulness than he evidently expected. My heart +had been lightened of one load. The ring had not been discovered on +Carmel as I had secretly feared. + +“I will take good care of your interests from now on,” he remarked, in +a tone much more natural than any he had before used. “Be hopeful and +show a brave front to the district attorney when he comes to interview +you. I hear that he is expected home to-morrow. If you are innocent, +you can face him and his whole office with calm assurance.” Which +showed how little he understood my real position. + +There was comfort in this very thought, however, and I quietly remarked +that I did not despair. + +“And I _will_ not,” he emphasised, rising with an assumption of ease +which left him as he remained hesitating before me. + +It was my moment of advantage, and I improved it by proffering a +request which had been more or less in my mind during the whole of this +prolonged colloquy. + +First thanking him for his disinterestedness, I remarked that he had +shown me so much consideration as a lawyer, that I now felt emboldened +to ask something from him as my friend. + +“You are free,” said I; “I am not. Miss Cumberland will be buried +before I leave these four walls. I hate to think of her going to +her grave without one token from the man to whom she has been only +too good and who, whatever outrage he may have planned to her +feelings, is not without reverence for her character and a heartfelt +repentance for whatever he may have done to grieve her. Charles, a +few flowers,--white--no wreath, just a few which can be placed on her +breast or in her hand. You need not say whom they are from. It would +seem a mockery to any one but her. Lilies, Charles. I shall feel +happier to know that they are there. Will you do this for me?” + +“I will.” + +“That is all.” + +Instinctively he held out his hand. I dropped mine in it; there was a +slight pressure, some few more murmured words and he was gone. + +I slept that night. + + + + +VIII + +A CHANCE! I TAKE IT + +I entreat you then +From one that so imperfectly conjects, +You’d take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble +Out of his scattering and unsure observance: +It were not for your quiet, nor your good, +Nor for my manhood, honesty or wisdom, +To let you know my thoughts. + +_Othello_ + + +I slept, though a question of no small importance was agitating my +mind, demanding instant consideration and a definite answer before I +again saw this friend and adviser. I woke to ask if the suggestion +which had come to me in our brief conversation about the bottles taken +from the wine-vault, was the promising one it had then appeared, or +only a fool’s trick bound to end in disaster. I weighed the matter in +every conceivable way, and ended by trusting to the instinct which +impelled me to have resource to the one and only means by which the +scent might be diverted from its original course, confusion be sown in +the minds of the police, and Carmel, as well as myself, be saved from +the pit gaping to receive us. + +This was my plan. I would acknowledge to having seen a horse and cutter +leave the club-house by the upper gateway, simultaneously with my +entrance through the lower one. I would even describe the appearance +of the person driving this cutter. No one by the greatest stretch of +imagination would be apt to associate this description with Carmel; +but it might set the authorities thinking, and if by any good chance +a cutter containing a person wearing a derby hat and a coat with an +extra high collar should have been seen on this portion of the road, or +if, as I earnestly hoped, the snow had left any signs of another horse +having been tethered in the clump of trees opposite the one where I +had concealed my own, enough of the truth might be furnished to divide +public opinion and start fresh inquiry. + +That a woman’s form had sought concealment under these masculine +habiliments would not, could not, strike anybody’s mind. Nothing in +the crime had suggested a woman’s presence, much less a woman’s active +agency. + +On the contrary, all the appearances, save such as I believed known to +myself alone, spoke so openly of a man’s strength, a man’s methods, +a man’s appetite, and a man’s brutal daring that the suspicion which +had naturally fallen on myself as the one and only person implicated, +would in shifting pass straight to another man, and, if he could not +be found, return to me, or be lost in a maze of speculation. This +seemed so evident after a long and close study of the situation that +I was ready with my confession when Mr. Clifton next came. I had even +forestalled it in a short interview forced upon me by the assistant +district attorney and Chief Hudson. That it had made an altogether +greater impression upon the latter than I had expected, gave me +additional courage when I came to discuss this new line of defence with +the young lawyer. I was even able to tell him that, to all appearance, +my long silence on a point so favourable to my own interests had not +militated against me to the extent one would expect from men so alive +to the subterfuges and plausible inventions of suspected criminals. + +“Chief Hudson believes me, late as my statement is. I saw it in his +eye.” Thus I went on. “And the assistant district attorney, too. At +least, the latter is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, which +was more than I expected. What do you suppose has happened? Some new +discovery on their part? If so, I ought to know what it is. Believe me, +Charles, I ought to know what it is.” + +“I have heard of no new discovery,” he coldly replied, not quite +pleased, as I could see, either with my words or my manner. “An old one +may have served your purpose. If another cutter besides yours passed +through the club-house grounds at the time you mention, it left tracks +which all the fury of the storm would not have entirely obliterated +in the fifteen minutes elapsing between that time and the arrival of +the police. Perhaps they remember these tracks, and if you had been +entirely frank that night--” + +“I know, I know,” I put in, “but I wasn’t. Lay it to my confusion +of mind--to the great shock I had received, to anything but my own +blood-guiltiness, and take up the matter as it now stands. Can’t +you follow up my suggestion? A witness can certainly be found who +encountered that cutter and its occupant somewhere on the long stretch +of open road between The Whispering Pines and the resident district.” + +“Possibly. It would help. You have not asked for news from the Hill.” + +The trembling which seized and shook me at these words testified to the +shock they gave me. “Carmel!” I cried. “She is worse--dead!” + +“No. She’s not worse and she’s not dead. But the doctors say it will +be weeks before they can allow a question of any importance to be put +to her. You can see what that will do for us. Her testimony is too +important to the case to be ignored. A delay will follow which may or +may not be favourable to you. I am inclined to think now that it will +redound to your interests. You are ready to swear to the sleigh you +speak of; that you saw it leave the club-house grounds and turn north?” + +“Quite ready; but you must not ask me to describe or in any way to +identify its occupant. I saw nothing but the hat and coat I have told +you about. It was just before the moon went under a cloud, or I could +not have seen that much.” + +Is it so hard to preserve a natural aspect in telling or suggesting a +lie that Charles’s look should change as I uttered the last sentence? I +do not easily flush, and since my self-control had been called upon by +the dreadful experiences of the last few days, I had learned to conceal +all other manifestations of feeling except under some exceptional +shock. But a lie embodied in so many words, never came easy to my +lips, and I suppose my voice fell, for his glance became suddenly +penetrating, and his voice slightly sarcastic as he remarked: + +“Those clouds obscured more than the moon, I fancy. I only wish that +they had not risen between you and me. This is the blindest case that +has ever been put in my hands. All the more credit to me if I see you +through it, I suppose; but--” + +“Tell me,” I broke in, with equal desire to cut these recriminations +short and to learn what was going on at the Cumberland house, “have +you been to the Hill or seen anybody who has? Can’t you give me some +details of--of Carmel’s condition; of the sort of nurse who cares for +her, and how Arthur conducts himself under this double affliction?” + +“I was there last night. Miss Clifford was in the house and received +me. She told me that Arthur’s state of mind was pitiful. He was never +a very affectionate brother, you know, but now they cannot get him +away from Carmel’s door. He sits or stands all day just outside the +threshold and casts jealous and beseeching looks at those who are +allowed to enter. They say you wouldn’t know him. I tried to get him to +come down and see me, but he wouldn’t leave his post.” + +“Doesn’t he grieve for Adelaide? I always thought that of the two she +had the greater influence over him.” + +“Yes, but they cannot get him to enter the place where she lies. His +duty is to the living, he says; at least, his anxiety is there. He +starts at every cry Carmel utters.” + +“She--cries out--then?” + +“Very often. I could hear her from where I sat downstairs.” + +“And what does she say?” + +“The one thing constantly. ‘Lila! Lila!’ Nothing more.” + +I kept my face in shadow. If he saw it at all, it must have looked as +cold and hard as stone. After a moment, I went on with my queries: + +“Does he--Arthur--mention me at all?” + +“I did not discuss you greatly with Miss Clifford. I saw that she was +prejudiced, and I preferred not to risk an argument; but she let fall +this much: that Arthur felt very hard towards you and loudly insisted +upon your guilt. She seemed to think him justified in this. You don’t +mind my telling you? It is better for you to know what is being said +about you in town.” + +I understood his motive. He was trying to drive me into giving him my +full confidence. But I would not be driven. I simply retorted quietly +but in a way to stop all such future attempts: + +“Miss Clifford is a very good girl and a true friend of the whole +Cumberland family; but she is not the most discriminating person in the +world, and even if she were, her opinion would not turn me from the +course I have laid out for myself. Does the doctor--Dr. Carpenter, I +presume,--venture to say how long Carmel’s present delirium will hold?” + +“He cannot, not knowing its real cause. Carmel fell ill before the +news of her sister’s death arrived at the house, you remember. Some +frightful scene must have occurred between the two, previous to +Adelaide’s departure for The Whispering Pines. What that scene was can +only be told by Carmel and for her account we must wait. Happily you +have an alibi which will serve you in this instance. You were at the +station during the time we are speaking of.” + +“Has that been proved?” + +“Yes; several men saw you there.” + +“And the gentleman who brought me the--her letter?” It was more than +difficult for me to speak Carmel’s name. “He has not come forward?” + +“Not yet; not to my knowledge, at least.” + +“And the ring?” + +“No news.” + +“The nurse--you have told me nothing about her,” I now urged, reverting +to the topic of gravest interest to me. “Is she any one we know or an +importation of the doctor’s?” + +“I did not busy myself with that. She’s a competent woman, of course. I +suppose that is what you mean?” + +Could I tell him that this was not what I meant at all--that it was +her qualities as woman rather than her qualifications as nurse which +were important in this case? If she were of a suspicious, prying +disposition, given to weighing every word and marking every gesture of +a delirious patient, what might we not fear from her circumspection +when Carmel’s memory asserted itself and she grew more precise in the +frenzy which now exhausted itself in unintelligible cries, or the +ceaseless repetition of her sister’s name. The question seemed of such +importance to me that I was tempted to give expression to my secret +apprehension on this score, but I bethought myself in time and passed +the matter over with the final remark: + +“Watch her, watch them all, and bring me each and every detail of the +poor girl’s sickness. You will never regret humouring me in this. You +ordered the flowers for--Adelaide?” + +“Yes; lilies, as you requested.” + +A short silence, then I observed: + +“There will be no autopsy the papers say. The evidences of death by +strangulation are too well defined.” + +“Very true. Yet I wonder at their laxity in this. There were signs of +some other agency having been at work also. Those two empty glasses +smelling of cordial--innocent perhaps--yet--” + +“Don’t! I can bear no more to-day. I shall be stronger to-morrow.” + +Another feeler turned aside. His cheek showed his displeasure, but the +words were kind enough with which he speedily took his leave and left +me to solitude and a long night of maddening thought. + + + + +BOOK TWO + +SWEETWATER TO THE FRONT + + + + +IX + +“WE KNOW OF NO SUCH LETTER” + +O, he sits high in all the people’s hearts; +And that, which would appear offence in us, +His countenance like richest alchemy +Will change to virtue, and to worthiness. + +_Julius Caesar_. + + +“And you still hold him?” + +“Yes, but with growing uncertainty. He’s one of those fellows who +affect your judgment in spite of yourself. Handsome beyond the +ordinary, a finished gentleman and all that, he has, in addition to +these advantages, a way with him that goes straight to the heart in +spite of prejudice and the claims of conscience. That’s a dangerous +factor in a case like this. It hampers a man in the exercise of his +duties. You may escape the fascination, probably will; but at least you +will understand my present position and why I telephoned to New York +for an expert detective to help us on this job. I wish to give the son +of my old friend a chance.” + +The man whom Coroner Perry thus addressed, leaned back in his chair and +quietly replied: + +“You’re right; not because he’s the son of your old friend, a handsome +fellow and all that, but for the reason that every man should have his +full chance, whatever the appearances against him. Personally, I have +no fear of my judgment being affected by his attractions. I’ve had to +do with too many handsome scamps for that. But I shall be as just to +him as you will, simply because it seems an incredibly brutal crime for +a gentleman to commit, and also because I lay greater stress than you +do on the two or three minor points which seem to favour his latest +declaration, that a man had preceded him in his visit to this lonely +club-house,--a man whom he had himself seen leaving the grounds in a +cutter just as he entered by the opposite driveway.” + +“Ah!” came in quick ejaculation from the coroner’s lips, “I like to +hear you say that. I was purposely careful not to lay emphasis on the +facts you allude to. I wished you to draw your own inferences, without +any aid from me. The police did find traces of a second horse and +cutter having passed through the club-house grounds. It was snowing +hard, and these traces were speedily obliterated, but Hexford and +Clarke saw them in time to satisfy themselves that they extended from +the northern clump of trees to the upper gateway where they took the +direction of the Hill.” + +“That is not all. A grip-sack, packed for travelling, was in Mr. +Ranelagh’s cutter, showing that his story of an intended journey was +not without some foundation.” + +“Yes. We have retained that grip-sack. It is not the only proof we +have of his intention to leave the city for a while. He had made other +arrangements, business arrangements--But that’s neither here nor there. +No one doubts that he planned an elopement with the beautiful Carmel; +the question is, was his disappointment followed by the murder of the +woman who stood in his way?” + +District Attorney Fox (you will have guessed his identity before now) +took his time, deliberating carefully with himself before venturing +to reply. Then when the coroner’s concealed impatience was about to +disclose itself, he quietly remarked: + +“I suppose that no conclusion can be drawn from the condition of the +body when our men reached it. I judge that it was still warm.” + +“Yes, but so it would have been if she had met her fate several minutes +earlier than was supposed. Clarke and Hexford differ about the length +of time which intervened between the moment when the former looked into +the room from the outside and that of their final entrance. But whether +it was five minutes or ten, the period was long enough to render their +testimony uncertain as to the exact length of time she had lain there +dead. Had I been there--But it’s useless to go into that. Let us take +up something more tangible.” + +“Very good. Here it is. Of the six bottles of spirits which were +surreptitiously taken from the club-house’s wine-vault, four were found +standing unopened on the kitchen table. Where are the other two?” + +“That’s it! That’s the question I have put myself ever since I +interrogated the steward and found him ready to swear to the +correctness of his report and the disappearance of these two bottles. +Ranelagh did not empty them, or the bottles themselves would have been +found somewhere about the place. Now, who did?” + +“No one within the club-house precincts. They were opened and emptied +elsewhere. There’s our clew and if the man you’ve got up from New York +is worth his salt, he has his task ready to hand.” + +“A hard task for a stranger--and such a stranger! Not very +prepossessing, to say the least. But he has a good eye, and will get +along with the boys all right. Nothing assertive about him; not enough +go, perhaps. Would you like to see him?” + +“In a moment. I want to clear my mind in reference to these bottles. +Only some one addicted to drink would drag those six bottles out of +that cold, unlighted cellar.” + +“Yes, and a connoisseur at that. The two missing bottles held the +choicest brand in the whole stock. They were kept far back too--hidden, +as it were, behind the other bottles. Yet they were hauled to the front +and carried off, as you say, and by some one who knows a good thing in +spirits.” + +“What was in the four bottles found on the kitchen table?” + +“Sherry, whiskey, and rum. Two bottles of rum and one each of sherry +and whiskey.” + +“The thief meant to carry them all off, but had not time.” + +“The _gentleman_ thief! No common man such as we are looking for, +would make choice of just those bottles. So there we are again! +Contradictions in every direction.” + +“Don’t let us bother with the contradictions, but just follow the clew. +Those bottles, full or empty, must be found. You know the labels?” + +“Yes, and the shape and colour of the bottles, both of which are +peculiar.” + +“Good! Now let us see your detective.” + +But Sweetwater was not called in yet. Just as Coroner Perry offered to +touch his bell, the door opened and Mr. Clifton was ushered in. Well +and favourably known to both men, he had no difficulty in stating his +business and preferring his request. + +“I am here in the interests of Elwood Ranelagh,” said he. “He is +willing to concede, and so am I, that under the circumstances his +arrest was justifiable, but not his prolonged detention. He has +little excuse to offer for the mistakes he has made, or the various +offences of which he has been guilty. His best friends must condemn his +hypocrisy and fast-and-loose treatment of Miss Cumberland; but he vows +that he had no hand in her violent death, and in this regard I feel not +only bound but forced to believe him. At all events, I am going to act +on that conviction, and have come here to entreat your aid in clearing +up one or two points which may affect your own opinion of his guilt. + +“As his counsel I have been able to extract from him a fact or two +which he has hitherto withheld from the police. Reticent as he has +shown himself from the start,--and considering the character of the two +women involved in this tragedy, this cannot be looked upon as entirely +to his discredit,--he has confided to me a circumstance, which in +the excitement attendant on Miss Carmel Cumberland’s sudden illness, +may have escaped the notice of the family and very naturally, of the +police. It is this: + +“The ring which Miss Cumberland wore as the sign and seal of her +engagement to him was not on her hand when he came upon her, as he +declares he did, dead. It was there at dinner-time--a curious ring +which I have often noted myself and could accurately describe if +required. If she took it off before starting for The Whispering Pines, +it should be easily found. But if she did not, what a clew it offers to +her unknown assailant! Up till now, Mr. Ranelagh has been anticipating +receiving this ring back in a letter, written before she left her home. +But he has heard of no such letter, and doubts now if you have. May I +ask if he is correct in this surmise?” + +“We know of no such letter. None has come to his rooms,” replied the +coroner. + +“I thought not. The whereabouts of this ring, then, is still to be +determined. You will pardon my having called your attention to it. +As Mr. Ranelagh’s legal adviser, I am very anxious to have that ring +found.” + +“We are glad to receive your suggestion,” replied the district +attorney. “But you must remember that some of its force is lost by its +having originated with the accused.” + +“Very true; but Mr. Ranelagh was only induced to speak of this matter +after I had worked with him for an hour. There is a mystery in his +attitude which I, for one, have not yet fathomed. You must have noticed +this also, Coroner Perry? Your inquest, when you hold it, will reveal +some curious facts; but I doubt if it will reveal the secret underlying +this man’s reticence. That we shall have to discover for ourselves.” + +“He has another secret, then, than the one involving his arrest as a +suspected murderer?” was the subtle conclusion of the district attorney. + +“Yes, or why does he balk so at the simplest inquiries? I have my +notion as to its nature; but I’m not here to express notions unless you +call my almost unfounded belief in him a notion. What I want to present +to you is fact, and fact which can be utilised.” + +“In the cause of your client!” + +“Which is equally the cause of justice.” + +“Possibly. We’ll search for the ring, Mr. Clifton.” + +“Meanwhile, will you cast your eye over these fragments of a note which +Mr. Ranelagh says he received from Miss Carmel Cumberland while waiting +on the station platform for her coming.” + +Taking an envelope from his pocket, Mr. Clifton drew forth two small +scraps of soiled and crumpled paper, one of which was the half of +another envelope presenting very nearly the following appearance: + +As he pointed this out, he remarked: + +“Elwood is not so common a baptismal name, that there can be any doubt +as to the person addressed.” + +The other scraps, also written in pencil and by the same hand, +contained but two or three disconnected words; but one of those words +was _Adelaide_. + +“I spent an hour and a half in the yards adjoining the station before +I found those two bits,” explained the young lawyer with a simple +earnestness not displeasing to the two seasoned men he addressed. +“One was in hiding under a stacked-up pile of outgoing freight, and +the other I picked out of a cart of stuff which had been swept up in +the early morning. I offer them in corroboration of Mr. Ranelagh’s +statement that the ‘_Come!_’ used in the partially consumed letter +found in the clubhouse chimney was addressed to Miss Carmel Cumberland +and not to Adelaide, and that the place of meeting suggested by this +word was the station platform, and not the spot since made terrible by +death.” + +“You are acquainted with Miss Carmel Cumberland’s handwriting?” + +“If I am not, the town is full of people who are. I believe these words +to have been written by Carmel Cumberland.” + +Mr. Fox placed the pieces back in their envelope and laid the whole +carefully away. + +“For a second time we are obliged to you,” said he. + +“You can cancel the obligation,” was the quick retort, “by discovering +the identity of the man who in derby hat and a coat with a very high +collar, left the grounds of The Whispering Pines just as Mr. Ranelagh +drove into them. I have no facilities for the job, and no desire to +undertake it.” + +He had endeavoured to speak naturally, if not with an off-hand air; but +he failed somehow--else why the quick glance of startled inquiry which +Dr. Perry sent him from under his rather shaggy eyebrows. + +“Well, we’ll undertake that, too,” promised the district attorney. + +“I can ask no more,” returned Charles Clifton, arising to depart. “The +confronting of that man with Ranelagh will cause the latter to unseal +his lips. Before you have finished with my client, you will esteem him +much more highly than you do now.” + +The district attorney smiled at what seemed the callow enthusiasm of +a youthful lawyer; but the coroner who knew his district well, looked +very thoughtfully down at the table before which he sat, and failed +to raise his head until the young man had vanished from the room and +his place had been taken by another of very different appearance and +deportment. Then he roused himself and introduced the newcomer to +the prosecuting attorney as Caleb Sweetwater, of the New York police +department. + +Caleb Sweetwater was no beauty. He was plain-featured to the point +of ugliness; so plain-featured that not even his quick, whimsical +smile could make his face agreeable to one who did not know his many +valuable qualities. His receding chin and far too projecting nose +were not likely to create a favourable impression on one ignorant of +his cheerful, modest, winsome disposition; and the district attorney, +after eyeing him for a moment with ill-concealed disfavour, abruptly +suggested: + +“You have brought some credentials with you, I hope.” + +“Here is a letter from one of the department. Mr. Gryce wrote it,” he +added, with just a touch of pride. + +“The letter is all right,” hastily remarked Dr. Perry on looking it +over. “Mr. Sweetwater is commended to us as a man of sagacity and +becoming reserve.” + +“Very good. To business, then. The sooner we get to work on this new +theory, the better. Mr. Sweetwater, we have some doubts if the man we +have in hand is the man we really want. But first, how much do you know +about this case?” + +“All that’s in the papers.” + +“Nothing more?” + +“Very little. I’ve not been in town above an hour.” + +“Are you known here?” + +“I don’t think so; it’s my first visit this way.” + +“Then you are as ignorant of the people as they are of you. Well, that +has its disadvantages.” + +“And its advantages, if you will permit me to say so, sir. I have no +prejudices, no preconceived notions to struggle against. I can take +persons as I find them; and if there is any deep family secret to +unearth, it’s mighty fortunate for a man to have nothing stand in the +way of his own instincts. No likings, I mean--no leanings this way or +that, for humane or other purely unprofessional reasons.” + +The eye of District Attorney Fox stole towards that of his brother +official, but did not meet it. The coroner had turned his attention +to the table again, and, while betraying no embarrassment, was not +quite his usual self. The district attorney’s hand stole to his chin, +which he softly rubbed with his lean forefinger as he again addressed +Sweetwater. + +“This tragedy--the most lamentable which has ever occurred in this +town--is really, and without exaggeration, a tragedy in high life. The +lady who was strangled by a brute’s clutch, was a woman of the highest +culture and most estimable character. Her sister, who is supposed +to have been the unconscious cause of the crime, is a young girl of +blameless record. Of the man who was seen bending over the victim with +his hands on her throat, we cannot speak so well. He has the faults +and has lived the life of a social favourite. Gifted in many ways, and +popular with both men and women, he has swung on his course with an +easy disregard of the claims of others, which, while leaving its traces +no doubt in many a humble and uncomplaining heart, did not attract +notice to his inherent lack of principle, until the horrors of this +tragedy lifted him into public view stripped of all his charms. He’s +an egotist, of the first water; there is no getting over that. But did +he strangle the woman? He says not; that he was only following some +extraordinary impulse of the moment in laying his thumbs on the marks +he saw on Miss Cumberland’s neck. A fantastic story--told too late, +besides, for perfect credence, and not worthy of the least attention +if--” + +The reasons which followed are too well known to us for repetition. +Sweetwater listened with snapping eyes to all that was said; and +when he had been given the various clews indicating the presence of +a third--and as yet unknown--party on the scene of crime, he rose +excitedly to his feet and, declaring that it was a most promising case, +begged permission to make his own investigations at The Whispering +Pines, after which he would be quite ready to begin his search for the +man in the derby hat and high coat-collar, whose love for wine was so +great that he chose and carried off the two choicest bottles that the +club-house contained. + +“A hardy act for any man, gentleman or otherwise, who had just +strangled the life out of a fine woman like that. If he exists and the +whole story is not a pure fabrication of the entrapped Ranelagh, he +shouldn’t be hard to find. What do you say, gentlemen? He shouldn’t be +hard to find.” + +“_We_ have not found him,” emphasised the district attorney, with the +shortest possible glance at the coroner’s face. + +“Then the field is all before me,” smiled Sweetwater. “Wish me luck, +gentlemen. It’s a blind job, but that’s just in my line. A map of the +town, a few general instructions, and I’m off.” + +Mr. Fox turned towards the coroner, and opened his lips; but closed +them again without speaking. Did Sweetwater notice this act of +self-restraint? If he did, he failed to show it. + + + + +X + +“I CAN HELP YOU” + +A subtle knave; a finder out of occasions; +That has an eye can stamp and counterfeit +Advantages though true advantage never presents +Itself; A devilish knave! + +_Othello_. + + +A half hour spent with Hexford in and about the club-house, and +Sweetwater was ready for the road. As he made his way through the +northern gate, he cast a quick look back at the long, low building he +had just left, with its tall chimneys and rows of sightless windows, +half hidden, half revealed by the encroaching pines. The mystery of +the place fascinated him. To his awakened imagination, there was a +breathless suggestion in it--a suggestion which it was his foremost +wish, just now, to understand. + +And those pines--gaunt, restless, communicative! ready with their +secret, if one could only interpret their language. How their heads +came together as their garrulous tongues repeated the tale, which would +never grow old to them until age nipped their hoary heads and laid them +low in the dust, with their horror half expressed, their gruesome tale +unfinished. + +“Witnesses of it all,” commented the young detective as he watched +the swaying boughs rising and dipping before a certain window. “They +were peering into that room long before Clarke stole the glimpse which +has undone the unfortunate Ranelagh. If I had their knowledge, I’d do +something more than whisper.” + +Thus musing, thus muttering, he plodded up the road, his insignificant +figure an unpromising break in the monotonous white of the wintry +landscape. But could the prisoner who had indirectly speeded this young +detective on his present course, have read his thoughts and rightly +estimated the force of his purpose, would he have viewed with so much +confidence the entrance of this unprepossessing stranger upon the +no-thoroughfare into which his own carefully studied admissions had +blindly sent him? + +As has been said before, this road was an outlying one and but little +travelled save in the height of summer. Under ordinary circumstances +Sweetwater would have met not more than a half-dozen carts or sledges +between the club-house gates and the city streets. But to-day, the road +was full of teams carrying all sorts of incongruous people, eager for +a sight of the spot made forever notorious by a mysterious crime. He +noted them all; the faces of the men, the gestures of the women; but he +did not show any special interest till he came to that portion of the +road where the long line of half-buried fences began to give way to a +few scattered houses. Then his spirit woke, and he became quick, alert, +and persuasive. He entered houses; he talked with the people. Though +evidently not a dissipated man, he stopped at several saloons, taking +his time with his glass and encouraging the chatter of all who chose to +meet his advances. He was a natural talker and welcomed every topic, +but his eye only sparkled at one. This he never introduced himself; +he did not need to. Some one was always ready with the great theme; +and once it was started, he did not let the conversation languish till +every one present had given his or her quota of hearsay or opinion to +the general fund. + +It seemed a great waste of time, for nobody had anything to say worth +the breath expended on it. But Sweetwater showed no impatience, and +proceeded to engage the attention of the next man, woman, or child he +encountered with undiminished zest and hopefulness. + +He had left the country road behind, and had entered upon the jumble +of sheds, shops, and streets which marked the beginnings of the town +in this direction, when his quick and experienced eye fell on a woman +standing with uncovered head in an open doorway, peering up the street +in anxious expectation of some one not yet in sight. He liked the air +and well-kept appearance of the woman; he appreciated the neatness of +the house at her back and gauged at its proper value the interest she +displayed in the expected arrival of one whom he hoped would delay +that arrival long enough for him to get in the word which by this time +dropped almost unconsciously from his lips. + +But a second survey of the woman’s face convinced him that his ordinary +loquaciousness would not serve him here. There was a refinement in +her aspect quite out of keeping with the locality in which she lived, +and he was hesitating how to proceed, when fortune favoured him by +driving against his knees a small lad on an ill-directed sled, bringing +him almost to the ground and upsetting the child who began to scream +vociferously. + +It was the woman’s child, for she made instantly for the gate which, +for some reason, she found difficulty in opening. Sweetwater, seeing +this, blessed his lucky stars. He was at his best with children, and +catching the little fellow up, he soothed and fondled him and finally +brought him with such a merry air of triumph straight to his mother’s +arms, that confidence between them was immediately established and +conversation started. + +He had in his pocket an ingenious little invention which he had +exhibited all along the road as an indispensable article in every +well-kept house. He wanted to show it to her, but it was too cold a day +for her to stop outside. Wouldn’t she allow him to step in and explain +how her work could be materially lessened and her labour turned to play +by a contrivance so simple that a child could run it? + +It was all so ridiculous in face of this woman’s quiet intelligence, +that he laughed at his own words, and this laughter, echoed by the +child and in another instant by the mother, made everything so pleasant +for the moment that she insensibly drew back while he pulled open the +gate, only remarking, as she led the way in: + +“I was looking for my husband. He may come any minute and I’m afraid he +won’t care much about contrivances to save me work--that is, if they +cost very much.” + +Sweetwater, whose hand was in his pocket, drew it hastily out. + +“You were watching for your husband? Do you often stand in the open +doorway, looking for him?” + +Her surprised eyes met his with a stare that would have embarrassed the +most venturesome book agent, but this man was of another ilk. + +“If you do,” he went on imperturbably, but with a good-humoured smile +which deepened her favourable impression of him, “how much I would give +if you had been standing there last Tuesday night when a certain cutter +and horse went by on its way up the hill.” + +She was a self-contained woman, this wife of a master mechanic in one +of the great shops hard by; but her jaw fell at this, and she forgot to +chide or resist her child when he began to pull her towards the open +kitchen door. + +Sweetwater, sensitive to the least change in the human face, prayed +that the husband might be detained, if only for five minutes longer, +while he, Sweetwater, worked this promising mine. + +“You _were_ looking out,” he ventured. “And you _did_ see that horse +and cutter. What luck! It may save a man’s life.” + +“Save!” she repeated, staggering back a few steps and dragging the +child with her. “Save a man’s life! What do you mean by that?” + +“Not much if it was any cutter and any horse, and at any hour. But if +it was the horse and cutter which left The Whispering Pines at ten or +half past ten that night, then it may mean life and death to the man +now in jail under the dreadful charge of murder.” + +Catching up her child, she slid into the kitchen and sat down with it, +in the first chair she came to. Sweetwater following her, took up his +stand in the doorway, unobtrusive, but patiently waiting for her to +speak. The steaming kettles and the table set for dinner gave warning +of the expected presence for which she had been watching, but she +seemed to have forgotten her husband; forgotten everything but her own +emotions. + +“Who are you?” she asked at length. “You have not told me your real +business.” + +“No, madam, and I ask your pardon. I feared that my real business, if +suddenly made known to you, might startle, perhaps frighten you. I +am a detective on the look-out for evidence in the case I have just +mentioned. I have a theory that a most important witness in the same, +drove by here at the hour and on the night I have named. I want to +substantiate that theory. Can you help me?” + +A sensitiveness to, and quick appreciation of, the character of those +he addressed was one of Sweetwater’s most valuable attributes. No +glossing of the truth, however skillfully applied, would have served +him with this woman so well as this simple statement, followed by its +equally simple and direct inquiry. Scrutinising him over the child’s +head, she gave but a casual glance at the badge he took pains to show +her, then in as quiet and simple tones as he had himself used, she made +this reply: + +“I can help you some. You make it my duty, and I have never shrunk +from duty. A horse and cutter did go by here on its way uphill, last +Tuesday night at about eleven o’clock. I remember the hour because I +was expecting my husband every minute, just as I am now. He had some +extra work on hand that night which he expected to detain him till +eleven or a quarter after. Supper was to be ready at a quarter after. +To surprise him I had beaten up some biscuits, and I had just put them +in the pan when I heard the clock strike the hour. Afraid that he would +come before they were baked, I thrust the pan into the oven and ran +to the front door to look out. It was snowing very hard, and the road +looked white and empty, but as I stood there a horse and cutter came in +sight, which, as it reached the gate, drew up in a great hurry, as if +something was the matter. Frightened, because I’m always thinking of +harm to my husband whose work is very dangerous, I ran out bare-headed +to the gate, when I saw why the man in the sleigh was making me such +wild gestures. His hat had blown off, and was lying close up against +the fence in front of me. Anxious always to oblige, I made haste to +snatch at it and carry it out to its owner. I received a sort of thank +you, and would never have remembered the occurrence if it had not +been for that murder and if--” She paused doubtfully, ran her fingers +nervously over her child’s head, looked again at Sweetwater waiting +expectantly for her next word, and faltered painfully--“if I had not +recognised the horse.” + +Sweetwater drew a deep breath; it was such a happy climax. Then, as she +showed no signs of saying more, asked as quietly as his rapidly beating +heart permitted: + +“Didn’t you recognise the man?” + +Her answer was short but as candid as her expression. + +“No. The snow was blinding; besides he wore a high collar, in which his +head was sunk down almost out of sight.” + +“But the horse--” + +“Was one which is often driven by here. I had rather not tell you whose +it is. I have not told any one, not even my husband, about seeing it on +the road that night. I couldn’t somehow. But if it will save a man’s +life and make clear who killed that good woman, ask any one on the +Hill, in what stable you can find a grey horse with a large black spot +on his left shoulder, and you will know as much about it as I do. Isn’t +that enough, sir? Now, I must dish up my dinner.” + +“Yes, yes; it’s almost enough. Just one question, madam. Was the hat +what folks call a derby? Like this one, madam,” he explained, drawing +his own from behind his back. + +“Yes, I think so. As well as I can remember, it was like that. I’m +afraid I didn’t do it any good by my handling. I had to clutch it +quick and I’m sure I bent the brim, to say nothing of smearing it with +flour-marks.” + +“How?” Sweetwater had started for the door, but stopped, all eagerness +at this last remark. + +“I had been cutting out biscuits, and my hands were white with flour,” +she explained, simply. “But that brushes off easily; I don’t suppose it +mattered.” + +“No, no,” he hastily assented. Then while he smiled and waved his hand +to the little urchin who had been his means of introduction to this +possibly invaluable witness, he made one final plea and that was for +her name. + +“Eliza Simmons,” was the straightforward reply; and this ended the +interview. + +The husband, whose anticipated approach had occasioned all this +abruptness, was coming down the hill when Sweetwater left the gate. As +this detective of ours was as careful in his finish as in all the rest +of his work, he called out as he went by: + +“I’ve just been trying to sell a wonderful contrivance of mine to the +missus. But it was no go.” + +The man looked, smiled, and went in at his own gate with the air of one +happy in wife, child, and home. + +Sweetwater went on up the hill. Towards the top, he came upon a +livery-stable. Stopping in his good-humoured way, he entered into talk +with a man loitering inside the great door. Before he left him, he had +asked him these questions: + +“Any grey horse in town?” + +“Yes, _one_.” + +“I think I’ve seen it--has a patch of black on its left shoulder.” + +“Yes.” + +“Whose is it? I’ve a mighty curiosity about the horse. Looks like a +trick horse.” + +“I don’t know what you mean by that. It belongs to a respectable +family. A family you must have heard about if you ever heard anything. +There’s a funeral there to-day--” + +“Not Miss Cumberland’s?” exclaimed Sweetwater, all agog in a moment. + +“Yes, Miss Cumberland’s. I thought you might have heard the name.” + +“Yes, I’ve heard it.” + +The tone was dry, the words abrupt, but the detective’s heart was +dancing like a feather. The next turn he took was toward the handsome +residence district crowning the hill. + + + + +XI + +IN THE COACH HOUSE + +All things that we ordained festival +Turn from their office to black funeral; +Our instruments to melancholy bells; +Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; +And all things change them to the contrary. + +_Romeo and Juliet_. + + +Fifteen minutes later, he stood in a finely wooded street before an +open gateway guarded by a policeman. Showing his badge, he passed in, +and entered a long and slightly curved driveway. As he did so, he took +a glance at the house. It was not as pretentious as he expected, but +infinitely more inviting. Low and rambling, covered with vines, and +nestling amid shrubbery which even in winter gave it a habitable air, +it looked as much the abode of comfort as of luxury, and gave--in +outward appearance at least--no hint of the dark shadow which had so +lately fallen across it. + +The ceremonies had been set for three o’clock, and it was now half past +two. As Sweetwater reached the head of the driveway, he saw the first +of a long file of carriages approaching up the street. + +“Lucky that my business takes me to the stable,” thought he. “What is +the coachman’s name? I ought to remember it. Ah--Zadok! Zadok Brown. +There’s a combination for you!” + +He had reached this point in his soliloquy (a bad habit of his, for +it sometimes took audible expression) when he ran against another +policeman set to guard the side door. A moment’s parley, and he left +this man behind; but not before he had noted this door and the wide and +hospitable verandah which separated it from the driveway. + +“I am willing to go all odds that I shall find that verandah the most +interesting part of the house,” he remarked, in quiet conviction, to +himself, as he noted its nearness to the stable and the ease with which +one could step from it into a vehicle passing down the driveway. + +It had another point of interest, or, rather the wing had to which +it was attached. As his eye travelled back across this wing, in his +lively walk towards the stable, he caught a passing glimpse of a +nurse’s face and figure in one of its upper windows. This located the +sick chamber, and unconsciously he hushed his step and moved with the +greatest caution, though he knew that this sickness was not one of the +nerves, and that the loudest sound would fail to reach ears lapsed in a +blessed, if alarming, unconsciousness. + +Once around the corner, he resumed a more natural pace, and perceiving +that the stable-door was closed but that a window well up the garden +side was open, he cast a look towards the kitchen windows at his back, +and, encountering no watchful eye, stepped up to the former one and +peered in. + +A man sat with his back to him, polishing a bit of harness. This was +probably Zadok, the coachman. As his interest was less with him than +with the stalls beyond, he let his eye travel on in their direction, +when he suddenly experienced a momentary confusion by observing the +head and shoulders of Hexford leaning towards him from an opposite +window--in much the same fashion, and certainly with exactly the same +intent, as himself. As their glances crossed, both flushed and drew +back, only to return again, each to his several peep-hole. Neither +meant to lose the advantage of the moment. Both had heard of the grey +horse and wished to identify it; Hexford for his own satisfaction, +Sweetwater as the first link of the chain leading him into the +mysterious course mapped out for him by fate. That each was more or +less under the surveillance of the other did not trouble either. + +There were three stalls, and in each stall a horse stamped and +fidgeted. Only one held their attention. This was a mare on the +extreme left, a large grey animal with a curious black patch on its +near shoulder. The faces of both men changed as they recognised this +distinguishing mark, and instinctively their eyes met across the width +of the open space separating them. Hexford’s finger rose to his mouth, +but Sweetwater needed no such hint. He stood, silent as his own shadow, +while the coachman rubbed away with less and less purpose, until his +hands stood quite still and his whole figure drooped in irresistible +despondency. As he raised his face, moved perhaps by that sense of a +watchful presence to which all of us are more or less susceptible, they +were both surprised to see tears on it. The next instant he had started +to his feet and the bit of harness had rattled from his hands to the +floor. + +“Who are you?” he asked, with a touch of anger, quite natural under the +circumstances. “Can’t you come in by the door, and not creep sneaking +up to take a man at disadvantage?” + +As he spoke, he dashed away the tears with which his cheeks were still +wet. + +“I thought a heap of my young mistress,” he added, in evident apology +for this display of what such men call weakness. “I didn’t know that it +was in me to cry for anything, but I find that I can cry for her.” + +Hexford left his window, and Sweetwater slid from his; next minute they +met at the stable door. + +“Had luck?” whispered the local officer. + +“Enough to bring me here,” acknowledged the other. + +“Do you mean to this house or to this stable?” + +“To this stable.” + +“Have you heard that the horse was out that night?” + +“Yes, she was out.” + +“Who driving?” + +“Ah, that’s the question!” + +“This man can’t tell you.” + +A jerk of Hexford’s thumb in Zadok’s direction emphasised this +statement. + +“But I’m going to talk to him, for all that.” + +“He wasn’t here that night; he was at a dance. He only knows that the +mare was out.” + +“But I’m going to talk to him.” + +“May I come in, too? I’ll not interrupt. I’ve just fifteen minutes to +spare.” + +“You can do as you please. I’ve nothing to hide--from you, at any rate.” + +Which wasn’t quite true; but Sweetwater wasn’t a stickler for truth, +except in the statements he gave his superiors. + +Hexford threw open the stable-door, and they both walked in. The +coachman was not visible, but they could hear him moving about above, +grumbling to himself in none too encouraging a way. + +Evidently he was in no mood for visitors. + +“I’ll be down in a minute,” he called out, as their steps sounded on +the hardwood floor. + +Hexford sauntered over to the stalls. Sweetwater stopped near the +doorway and glanced very carefully about him. Nothing seemed to escape +his eye. He even took the trouble to peer into a waste-bin, and was +just on the point of lifting down a bit of broken bottle from an open +cupboard when Brown appeared on the staircase, dressed in his Sunday +coat and carrying a bunch of fresh, hot-house roses. + +He stopped midway as Sweetwater turned towards him from the cupboard, +but immediately resumed his descent and was ready with his reply when +Hexford accosted him from the other end of the stable: + +“An odd beast, this. They don’t drive her for her beauty, that’s +evident.” + +“She’s fast and she’s knowing,” grumbled the coachman. “Reason enough +for overlooking her spots. Who’s that man?” he grunted, with a drop of +his lantern jaws, and a slight gesture towards the unknown interloper. + +“Another of us,” replied Hexford, with a shrug. “We’re both rather +interested in this horse.” + +“Wouldn’t another time do?” pleaded the coachman, looking gravely down +at the flowers he held. “It’s most time for the funeral and I don’t +feel like talking, indeed I don’t, gentlemen.” + +“We won’t keep you.” It was Sweetwater who spoke. “The mare’s company +enough for us. She knows a lot, this mare. I can see it in her eye. I +understand horses; we’ll have a little chat, she and I, when you are +gone.” + +Brown cast an uneasy glance at Hexford. + +“He’d better not touch her,” he cautioned. “He don’t know the beast +well enough for that.” + +“He won’t touch her,” Hexford assured him. “She does look knowing, +don’t she? Would like to tell us something, perhaps. Was out _that_ +night, I’ve heard you say. Curious! How did you know it?” + +“I’ve said and said till I’m tired,” Brown answered, with sudden heat. +“This is pestering a man at a very unfortunate time. Look! the people +are coming. I must go. My poor mistress! and poor Miss Carmel! I liked +’em, do ye understand? Liked ’em--and I do feel the trouble at the +house, I do.” + +His distress was so genuine that Hexford was inclined to let him go; +but Sweetwater with a cock of his keen eye put in his word and held the +coachman where he was. + +“The old gal is telling me all about it,” muttered this sly, adaptable +fellow. He had sidled up to the mare and their heads were certainly +very close together. “Not touch her? See here!” Sweetwater had his +arm round the filly’s neck and was looking straight into her fiery +and intelligent eye. “Shall I pass her story on?” he asked, with a +magnetic smile at the astonished coachman, which not only softened him +but seemed to give the watchful Hexford quite a new idea of this gawky +interloper. + +“You’ll oblige _me_ if you can put her knowledge into words,” the man +Zadok declared, with one fascinated eye on the horse and the other on +the house where he evidently felt that his presence was wanted. “She +was out that night, and I know it, as any coachman would know, who +doesn’t come home stone drunk. But where she was and who took her, get +her to tell if you can, for I don’t know no more ’n the dead.” + +“The dead!” flashed out Sweetwater, wheeling suddenly about and +pointing straight through the open stable-door towards the house where +the young mistress the old servant mourned, lay in her funeral casket. +“Do you mean her--the lady who is about to be buried? Could _she_ tell +if her lips were not sealed by a murderer’s hand?” + +“She!” The word came low and awesomely. Rude and uncultured as the man +was, he seemed to be strangely affected by this unexpected suggestion. +“I haven’t the wit to answer that,” said he. “How can we tell what +she knew. The man who killed her is in jail. _He_ might talk to some +purpose. Why don’t you question him?” + +“For a very good reason,” replied Sweetwater, with an easy good-nature +that was very reassuring. “He was arrested on the spot; so that it +wasn’t he who drove this mare home, unharnessed her, put her back in +her stall, locked the stable-door and hung up the key in its place in +the kitchen. Somebody else did _that_.” + +“That’s true enough, and what does it show? That the mare was out on +some other errand than the one which ended in blood and murder,” was +the coachman’s unexpected retort. + +“Is that so?” whispered Sweetwater into the mare’s cocked ear. +“She’s not quite ready to commit herself,” he drawled, with another +enigmatical smile at the lingering Zadok. “She’s keeping something +back. Are you?” he pointedly inquired, leaving the stalls and walking +briskly up to Zadok. + +The coachman frowned and hastily retreated a step; but in another +moment he leaped in a rage upon Sweetwater, when the sight of the +flowers he held recalled him to himself and he let his hand fall again +with the quiet remark: + +“You’re overstepping your dooty. I don’t know who you are or what you +want with me, but you’re overstepping your dooty.” + +“He’s right,” muttered Hexford. “Better let the fellow go. See! one of +the maids is beckoning to him.” + +“He shall go, and welcome, if he will tell me where he gets his taste +for this especial brand of whiskey.” Sweetwater had crossed to the +cupboard and taken down the lower half of the broken bottle which had +attracted his notice on his first entrance, and was now holding it out, +with a quizzical look at the departing coachman. + +Hexford was at his shoulder with a spring, and together they inspected +the label still sticking to it--which was that of the very rare and +expensive spirit found missing from the club-house vault. + +“This is a find,” muttered Hexford into his fellow detective’s ear. +Then, with a quick move towards Zadok, he shouted out: + +“You’d better answer that question. Where did this bit of broken bottle +come from? They don’t give you whiskey like this to drink.” + +“That they don’t,” muttered the coachman, not so much abashed as they +had expected. “And I wouldn’t care for it if they did. I found that bit +of bottle in the ash-barrel outside, and fished it out to put varnish +in. I liked the shape.” + +“Broken this way?” + +“Yes; it’s just as good.” + +“Is it? Well, never mind, run along. We’ll close the stable-door for +you.” + +“I’d rather do it myself and carry in the key.” + +“Here then; we’re going to the funeral, too. You’d like to?” This +latter in a whisper to Sweetwater. + +The answer was a fervent one. Nothing in all the world would please +this protean-natured man quite so well. + + + + +XII + +“LILA--LILA!” + +O, treble woe Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, Whose wicked +deed thy most ingenious sense Depriv’d thee of!--Hold off the earth +awhile, Till I have caught her once more in my arms. + +_Hamlet_. + + +“Let us enter by the side door,” suggested Sweetwater, as the two moved +towards the house. “And be sure you place me where I can see without +being seen. I have no wish to attract attention to myself, or to be +identified with the police until the necessity is forced upon me.” + +“Then we won’t go in together,” decided Hexford. “Find your own +place; you won’t have any difficulty. A crowd isn’t expected. Miss +Cumberland’s condition forbids it.” + +Sweetwater nodded and slid in at the side door. + +He found himself at once in a narrow hall, from the end of which opened +a large room. A few people were to be seen in this latter place, and +his first instinct was to join them; but finding that a few minutes yet +remained before the hour set for the services, he decided to improve +them by a rapid glance about this hall, which, for certain reasons +hardly as yet formulated in his own mind, had a peculiar interest for +him. + +The most important object within view, according to his present +judgment, was the staircase which connected it with the floor above; +but if you had asked his reason for this conclusion, he would not have +told you, as Ranelagh might have done, that it was because it was the +most direct and convenient approach to Carmel Cumberland’s room. His +thoughts were far from this young girl, intimately connected as she +was with this crime; which shows through what a blind maze he was +insensibly working. With his finger on the thread which had been put +in his hand, he was feeling his way along inch by inch. It had brought +him to this staircase, and it led him next to a rack upon which hung +several coats and a gentleman’s hat. + +He inspected the former and noted that one was finished with a high +collar; but he passed the latter by--it was not a derby. The table +stood next the rack, and on its top lay nothing more interesting than a +clothes-brush and one or two other insignificant objects; but, with his +memory for details, he had recalled the keys which one of the maids had +picked up somewhere about this house, and laid on a hall table. If this +were the hall and this the table, then was every inch of the latter’s +simple cloth-covered top of the greatest importance in his eyes. + +He had no further time for even these cursory investigations; Hexford’s +step could be heard on the verandah, and Sweetwater was anxious to +locate himself before the officer came in. Entering the room before +him, he crossed to the small group clustered in its further doorway. +There were several empty chairs in sight; but he passed around them +all to a dark and inconspicuous corner, from which, without effort, he +could take in every room on that floor--from the large parlour in which +the casket stood, to the remotest region of the servants’ hall. + +The clergyman had not yet descended, and Sweetwater had time to +observe the row of little girls sitting in front of the bearers, each +with a small cluster of white flowers in her hand. Miss Cumberland’s +Sunday-school class, he conjectured, and conjectured rightly. He also +perceived that some of these children loved her. + +Near them sat a few relatives and friends. Among these was a very, very +old man, whom he afterwards heard was a great-uncle and a centenarian. +Between him and one of the little girls, there apparently existed a +strong sympathy; for his hand reached out and drew her to him when +the tears began to steal down her cheeks, and the looks which passed +between the two had all the appeal and all the protection of a great +love. + +Sweetwater, who had many a soft spot in his breast, felt his heart +warm at this one innocent display of natural feeling in an assemblage +otherwise frozen by the horror of the occasion. His eyes dwelt +lingeringly on the child, and still more lingeringly on the old, old +man, before passing to that heaped-up mound of flowers, under which lay +a murdered body and a bruised heart. He could not see the face, but the +spectacle was sufficiently awe-compelling without that. + +Would it have seemed yet more so, had he known at whose request the +huge bunch of lilies had been placed over that silent heart? + +The sister sick, the brother invisible, there was little more to hold +his attention in this quarter; so he let it roam across the heads +of the people about him, to the distant hall communicating with the +kitchen. + +Several persons were approaching from this direction, among them Zadok. +The servants of the house, no doubt, for they came in all together +and sat down, side by side, in the chairs Sweetwater had so carefully +passed by. There were five persons in all: two men and three women. +Only two interested him--Zadok, with whom he had already made a +superficial acquaintance and had had one bout; and a smart, bright-eyed +girl with a resolute mouth softened by an insistent dimple, who struck +him as possessing excellent sense and some natural cleverness. A girl +to know and a girl to talk to, was his instantaneous judgment. Then he +forgot everything but the solemnity of the occasion, for the clergyman +had entered and taken his place, and a great hush had fallen upon the +rooms and upon every heart there present. + + +“_I am the resurrection and the life_.” + +Never had these consoling words sounded more solemn than when they +rang above the remains of Adelaide Cumberland, in this home where she +had reigned as mistress ever since her seventeenth year. The nature of +the tragedy which had robbed the town of one of its most useful young +women; the awful fate impending over its supposed author,--a man who +had come and gone in these rooms with a spell of fascination to which +many of those present had themselves succumbed--the brooding sense +of illness, if not of impending death, in the room above; gave to +these services a peculiar poignancy which in some breasts of greater +susceptibility than the rest, took the form of a vague expectancy +bordering on terror. + +Sweetwater felt the poignancy, but did not suffer from the terror. His +attention had been attracted in a new direction, and he found himself +watching, with anxious curiosity, the attitude and absorbed expression +of a good-looking young man whom he was far from suspecting to be the +secret representative of the present suspect, whom nobody could forget, +yet whom nobody wished to remember at this hallowed hour. + +Had this attitude and this absorption been directed towards the casket +over which the clergyman’s words rose and fell with ever increasing +impressiveness, he might have noted the man but would scarcely +have been held by him. But this interest, sincere and strong as it +undoubtedly was, centred not so much in the services, careful as he +was to maintain a decorous attitude towards the same, but in the faint +murmurs which now and then came down from above where unconsciousness +reigned and the stricken brother watched over the delirious sister, +with a concentration and abandonment to fear which made him oblivious +of all other duties, and almost as unconscious of the rites then being +held below over one who had been as a mother to him, as the sick girl +herself with her ceaseless and importunate “Lila! Lila!” The detective, +watching this preoccupied stranger, shared in some measure his secret +emotions, and thus was prepared for the unexpected occurrence of a few +minutes later. + +No one else had the least forewarning of any break in the services. +There had been nothing in the subdued but impressive rendering of the +prayers to foreshadow a dramatic episode; yet it came, and in this +manner: + +The final words had been said, and the friends present invited to look +their last on the calm face which, to many there, had never worn so +sweet a smile in life. Some had hesitated; but most had obeyed the +summons, among them Sweetwater. But he had not much time in which to +fix those features in his mind; for the little girls, who had been +waiting patiently for this moment, now came forward; and he stepped +aside to watch them as they filed by, dropping as they did so, a +tribute of fragrant flowers upon the quiet breast. They were followed +by the servants, among whom Zadok had divided his roses. As the last +cluster fell from the coachman’s trembling hand, the undertaker +advanced with the lid, and, pausing a moment to be sure that all were +satisfied, began to screw it on. + +Suddenly there was a cry, and the crowd about the door leading into +the main hall started back, as wild steps were heard on the stairs and +a young man rushed into the room where the casket stood, and advanced +upon the officiating clergyman and the astonished undertaker with a +fierceness which was not without its suggestion of authority. + +“Take it off!” he cried, pointing at the lid which had just been +fastened down. “I have not seen her--I must see her. Take it off!” + +It was the brother, awake at last to the significance of the hour! + +The clergyman, aghast at the sacrilegious look and tone of the +intruder, stepped back, raising one arm in remonstrance, and +instinctively shielding the casket with the other. But the undertaker +saw in the frenzied eye fixed upon his own, that which warned him +to comply with the request thus harshly and peremptorily uttered. +Unscrewing the lid, he made way for the intruder, who, drawing near, +pushed aside the roses which had fallen on the upturned face, and, +laying his hand on the brow, muttered a few low words to himself. Then +he withdrew his hand, and without glancing to right or left, staggered +back to the door amid a hush as unbroken as that which reigned behind +him in that open casket. Another moment and his white, haggard face and +disordered figure would be blotted from sight by the door-jamb. + +The minister recovered his poise and the bearers their breath; the men +stirred in their seats and the women began to cast frightened looks +at each other, and then at the children, some of whom had begun to +whimper, when in an instant all were struck again into stone. The young +man had turned and was facing them all, with his hands held out in a +clench which in itself was horrible. + +“If they let the man go,” he called out in loud and threatening tones, +“I will strangle him with these two hands.” + +The word, and not the shriek which burst irrepressibly from more +than one woman before him, brought him to himself. With a ghastly +look on his bloated features, he scanned for one moment the row of +deeply shocked faces before him, then tottered back out of sight, and +fled towards the staircase. All thought that an end had come to the +harrowing scene, and minister and people faced each other once more; +when, loud and sharp from above, there rang down the shrill cry of +delirium, this time in articulate words which even the children could +understand: + +“Break it open, I say! break it open, and see if her heart is there!” + +It was too awful. Men and women and children leaped to their feet +and dashed away into the streets, uttering smothered cries and wild +ejaculations. In vain the clergyman raised his voice and bade them +respect the dead; the rooms were well-nigh empty before he had finished +his appeal. Only the very old uncle and the least of the children +remained of all who had come there in memory of their departed +kinswoman and friend. + +The little one had fled to the old man’s arms before he could rise, and +was now held close to his aged and shaking knees, while he strove to +comfort her and explain. + +Soon these, too, were gone, and the casket was refastened and carried +out by the shrinking bearers, leaving in those darkened rooms a trail +of desolation which was only broken from time to time by the now faint +and barely heard reiteration of the name of her who had just been borne +away! + +“Lila! Lila!” + + + + +XIII + +“WHAT WE WANT IS HERE” + +I’ll tell you, by the way, +The greatest comfort in the world. +You said +There was a clew to all. +Remember, Sweet, +He said there was a clew! +I hold it. +Come! + +_A Blot in the ’Scutcheon._ + + +Sweetwater, however affected by this scene, had not lost control +of himself or forgotten the claims of duty. He noted at a glance +that, while the candid looking stranger, whose lead he had been +following, was as much surprised as the rest at the nature of the +interruption--which he had possibly anticipated and for which he was +in some measure prepared--he was, of all present, the most deeply +and peculiarly impressed by it. No element of fear had entered into +his emotion; nor had it been heightened by any superstitious sense. +Something deeper and more important by far had darkened his thoughtful +eye and caused that ebb and flow of colour in a cheek unused, if +Sweetwater read the man aright, to such quick and forcible changes. + +Sweetwater took occasion, likewise, while the excitement was at its +height, to mark what effect had been made on the servants by the action +and conduct of young Cumberland. “They know him better than we do,” was +his inner comment; “what do they think of his words, and what do they +think of him?” + +It was not so easy to determine as the anxious detective might wish. +Only one of them showed a simple emotion, and that one was, without +any possibility of doubt, the cook. She was a Roman Catholic, and was +simply horrified by the sacrilege of which she had been witness. There +was no mistaking her feelings. But those of the other two women were +more complex. + +So were those of the men. Zadok specially watched each movement of +his young master with open mistrust; and very nearly started upright, +in his repugnance and dismay, when that intruding hand fell on the +peaceful brow of her over whose fate, to his own surprise, he had been +able to shed tears. Some personal prejudice lay back of this or some +secret knowledge of the man from whose touch even the dead appeared to +shrink. + +And the women! Might not the same explanation account for that curious +droop of the eye with which the two younger clutched at each other’s +hands, to keep from screaming, and interchanged whispered words which +Sweetwater would have given considerable out of his carefully cherished +hoard to have heard. + +It was impossible to tell, at present; but he was confident that it +would not be long before he understood these latter, at least. He had +great confidence in his success with women, homely as he was. He was +not so sure of himself with men; and he felt that some difficulties +and not a few pitfalls lay between him and, for instance, the +uncommunicative Zadok. “But I’ve the whole long evening before me,” he +added in quiet consolation to himself. “It will be a pity if I can’t +work some of them in that time.” + +The last thing he had remarked, before Carmel’s unearthly cry had sent +the horrified guests in disorder from the house, was the presence of +Dr. Perry in a small room which Sweetwater had supposed empty, until +the astonishing events I have endeavoured to describe brought its +occupant to the door. What the detective then read in the countenance +of the family’s best friend, he kept to himself; but his own lost a +trace of its former anxiety, as the official slipped back out of sight +and remained so, even after the funeral cortege had started on its +course. + +Plans had been made for carrying the servants to the cemetery, and, +despite the universal disturbance consequent upon these events, these +plans were adhered to. Sweetwater watched them all ride away in the +last two carriages. + +This gave him the opportunity he wanted. Leaving his corner, he looked +up Hexford, and asked who was left in the house. + +“Dr. Perry, Mr. Clifton, the lawyer, Mr. Cumberland, his sick sister, +and the nurse.” + +“Mr. Cumberland! Didn’t he go to the grave?” + +“Did you expect him to, after _that_?” + +Sweetwater’s shoulders rose, and his voice took on a tone of +indifference. + +“There’s no telling. Where is he now, do you think? Upstairs?” + +“Yes. It seems he spends all his time in a little alcove opposite +his sister’s door. They won’t let him inside, for fear of disturbing +the patient; so he just sits where I’ve told you, doing nothing but +listening to every sound that comes through the door.” + +“Is he there now?” + +“Yes, and shaking just like a leaf. I walked by him a moment ago and +noticed particularly.” + +“Where’s his room? In sight of the alcove you mention?” + +“No; there’s a partition or two between. If you go up by the side +staircase, you can slip into it without any one seeing you. Coroner +Perry and Mr. Clifton are in front.” + +“Is the side door locked?” + +“No.” + +“Lock it. The back door, of course, is.” + +“Yes, the cook attended to that.” + +“I want a few minutes all by myself. Help me, Hexford. If Dr. Perry has +given you no orders, take your stand upstairs where you can give me +warning if Mr. Cumberland makes a move to leave his post, or the nurse +her patient.” + +“I’m ready; but I’ve been in that room and I’ve found nothing.” + +“I don’t know that I shall. You say that it is near the head of the +stairs running up from the side door?” + +“Just a few feet away.” + +“I would have sworn to that fact, even if you hadn’t told me,” muttered +Sweetwater. + +Five minutes later, he had slipped from sight; and for some time not +even Hexford knew where he was. + +“Dr. Perry, may I have a few words with you?” + +The coroner turned quickly. Sweetwater was before him; but not the same +Sweetwater he had interviewed some few hours before in his office. This +was quite a different looking personage. Though nothing could change +his features, the moment had come when their inharmonious lines no +longer obtruded themselves upon the eye; and the anxious, nay, deeply +troubled official whom he addressed, saw nothing but the ardour and +quiet self-confidence they expressed. + +“It’ll not take long,” he added, with a short significant glance in the +direction of Mr. Clifton. + +Dr. Perry nodded, excused himself to the lawyer and followed the +detective into the small writing-room which he had occupied during +the funeral. In the decision with which Sweetwater closed the door +behind them there was something which caused the blood to mount to the +coroner’s brow. + +“You have made some discovery?” said he. + +“A very important one,” was the quick, emphatic reply. And in a few +brief words the detective related his interview with the master +mechanic’s wife on the highroad. Then with an eager, “Now let me show +you something,” he led the coroner through the dining-room into the +side hall, where he paused before the staircase. + +“Up?” queried the coroner, with an obvious shrinking from what he might +encounter above. + +“No,” was the whispered reply. “What we want is _here_.” And, pushing +open a small door let into the under part of the stairway (if Ranelagh +in his prison cell could have seen and understood this movement!), he +disclosed a closet and in that closet a coat or two, and one derby hat. +He took down the latter and, holding it out to the light, pointed to a +spot on the under side of its brim. + +The coroner staggered as he saw it, and glanced helplessly about him. +He had known this family all their lives and the father had been his +dearest friend. But he could say nothing in face of this evidence. The +spot was a flour-mark, in which could almost be discerned the outline +of a woman’s thumb. + + + + +XIV + +THE MOTIONLESS FIGURE + +’S blood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy +could find it out. + +_Hamlet_. + + +“The coat is here, too,” whispered Sweetwater, after a moment of +considerate silence. “I had searched the hall-rack for them; I had +searched his closets; and was about owning myself to be on a false +trail, when I spied this little door. We had better lock it, now, had +we not, till you make up your mind what to do with this conclusive bit +of evidence.” + +“Yes, lock it. I’m not quite myself, Sweetwater. I’m no stranger to +this house, or to the unfortunate young people in it. I wish I had not +been re-elected last year. I shall never survive the strain if--” He +turned away. + +Sweetwater carefully returned the hat to its peg, turned the key in the +door, and softly followed his superior back into the dining-room, and +thence to their former retreat. + +“I can see that it’s likely to be a dreadful business,” he ventured +to remark, as the two stood face to face again. “But we’ve no choice. +Facts are facts, and we’ve got to make the best of them. You mean me to +go on?” + +“Go on?” + +“Following up the clews which you have yourself given me? I’ve only +finished with one; there’s another--” + +“The bottles?” + +“Yes, the bottles. I believe that I shall not fail there if you’ll give +me a little time. I’m a stranger in town, you remember, and cannot be +expected to move as fast as a local detective.” + +“Sweetwater, you have but one duty--to follow both clews as far as they +will take you. As for my duty, that is equally plain, to uphold you in +all reasonable efforts and to shrink at nothing which will save the +innocent and bring penalty to the guilty. Only be careful. Remember +the evidence against Ranelagh. You will have to forge an exceedingly +strong chain to hold your own against the facts which have brought this +recreant lover to book. You see--O, I wish that poor girl could get +ease!” he impetuously cried, as “Lila! Lila!” rang again through the +house. + +“There can never be any ease for her,” murmured Sweetwater. “Whatever +the truth, she’s bound to suffer if ever she awakens to reality again. +Do you agree with the reporters that she knew why and for what her +unhappy sister left this house that night?” + +“If not, why this fever?” + +“That’s sound.” + +“_She_--” the coroner was emphatic, “_she_ is the only one who is +wholly innocent in this whole business. Consider her at every point. +Her life is invaluable to every one concerned. But she must not be +roused to the fact; not yet. Nor must he be startled either; you know +whom I mean. Quiet does it, Sweetwater. Quiet and a seeming deference +to his wishes as the present head of the house.” + +“Is the place his? Has Miss Cumberland made a will?” + +“Her will will be read to-morrow. For to-night, Arthur Cumberland’s +position here is the position of a master.” + +“I will respect it, sir, up to all reasonable bounds. I don’t think +he meditates giving any trouble. He’s not at all impressed by our +presence. All he seems to care about is what his sister may be led to +say in her delirium.” + +“That’s how you look at it?” The coroner’s tone was one of gloom. Then, +after a moment of silence: “You may call my carriage, Sweetwater. I can +do nothing further here to-day. The atmosphere of this house stifles +me. Dead flowers, dead hopes, and something worse than death lowering +in the prospect. I remember my old friend--this was his desk. Let us +go, I say.” + +Sweetwater threw open the door, but his wistful look did not escape the +older man’s eye. + +“You’re not ready to go? Wish to search the house, perhaps.” + +“Naturally.” + +“It has already been done in a general way.” + +“I wish to do it thoroughly.” + +The coroner sighed. + +“I should be wrong to stand in your way. Get your warrant and the house +is yours. But remember the sick girl.” + +“That’s why I wish to do the job my self.” + +“You’re a good fellow, Sweetwater.” Then as he was passing out, “I’m +going to rely on you to see this thing through, quietly if you can, +openly and in the public eye if you must. The keys tell the tale--the +keys and the hat. If the former had been left in the club-house and +the latter found without the mark set on it by the mechanic’s wife, +Ranelagh’s chances would look as slim to-day as they did immediately +after the event. But with things as they are, he may well rest easily +to-night; the clouds are lifting for him.” + +Which shows how little we poor mortals realise what makes for the peace +even of those who are the nearest to us and whose lives and hearts we +think we can read like an open book. + +The coroner gone, Sweetwater made his way to the room where he had last +seen Mr. Clifton. He found it empty and was soon told by Hexford that +the lawyer had left. This was welcome news to him; he felt that he had +a fair field before him now; and learning that it would be some fifteen +minutes yet before he could hope to see the carriages back, he followed +Hexford upstairs. + +“I wish I had your advantages,” he remarked as they reached the upper +floor. + +“What would you do?” + +“I’d wander down that hall and take a long look at things.” + +“You would?” + +“I’d like to see the girl and I’d like to see the brother when he +thought no one was watching him.” + +“Why see the girl?” + +“I don’t know. I’m afraid that’s just curiosity. I’ve heard she was a +wonder for beauty.” + +“She was, once.” + +“And not now?” + +“You cannot tell; they have bound up her cheeks with cloths. She fell +on the grate and got burned.” + +“But I say that’s dreadful, if she was so beautiful.” + +“Yes, it’s bad, but there are worse things than that. I wonder what she +meant by that wild cry of ‘Tear it open! See if her heart is there?’ +Tear what open? the coffin?” + +“Of course. What else could she have meant?” + +“Well! delirium is a queer thing; makes a fellow feel creepy all over. +I don’t reckon on my nights here.” + +“Hexford, help me to a peep. I’ve got a difficult job before me and I +need all the aid I can get.” + +“Oh, there’s no trouble about that! Walk boldly along; he won’t +notice--” + +“_He won’t notice_?” + +“No, he notices nothing but what comes from the sick room.” + +“I see.” Sweetwater’s jaw had fallen, but it righted itself at this +last word. + +“Listening, eh?” + +“Yes--as a fellow never listened before.” + +“Expectant like?” + +“Yes, I should call it expectant.” + +“Does the nurse know this?” + +“The nurse is a puzzler.” + +“How so?” + +“Half nurse and half--but go see for yourself. Here’s a package to take +in,--medicine from the drug store. Tell her there was no one else to +bring it up. She’ll show no surprise.” + +Muttering his thanks, Sweetwater seized the proffered package, and +hastened with it down the hall. He had been as far as the turn before, +but now he passed the turn to find, just as he expected, a closed door +on the left and an open alcove on the right. The door led into Miss +Cumberland’s room; the alcove, circular in shape and lighted by several +windows, projected from the rear of the extension, and had for its +outlook the stable and the huge sycamore tree growing beside it. + +Sweetwater’s fingers passed thoughtfully across his chin as he remarked +this and took in the expressive outline of its one occupant. He could +not see his face; that was turned towards the table before which he +sat. But his drooping head, rigid with desperate thinking; his relaxed +hand closed around the neck of a decanter which, nevertheless, he did +not lift, made upon Sweetwater an impression which nothing he saw +afterwards ever quite effaced. + +“When I come back, that whiskey will be half gone,” thought he, and +lingered to see the tumbler filled and the first draught taken. + +But no. The hand slowly unclasped and fell away from the decanter; his +head sank forward until his chin rested on his breast; and a sigh, +startling to Sweetwater, fell from his lips. Hexford was right; only +one thing could arouse him. + +Sweetwater now tried that thing. He knocked softly on the sick-room +door. + +This reached the ear oblivious to all else. Young Cumberland started +to his feet; and for a moment Sweetwater saw again the heavy features +which, an hour before, had produced such a repulsive effect upon him in +the rooms below. Then the nerveless figure sank again into place, with +the same constraint in its lines, and the same dejection. + +Sweetwater’s hand, lifted in repetition of his knock, hung suspended. +He had not expected quite such indifference as this. It upset his +calculations just a trifle. As his hand fell, he reminded himself of +the coroner’s advice to go easy. “Easy it is,” was his internal reply. +“I’ll walk as lightly as if eggshells were under my feet.” + +The door was opened to him, this time. As it swung back, he saw, first, +a burst of rosy color as a room panelled in exquisite pink burst upon +his sight; then the great picture of his life--the bloodless features +of Carmel, calmed for the moment into sleep. + +Perfect beauty is so rare, its effect so magical! Not even the +bandage which swathed one cheek could hide the exquisite symmetry +of the features, or take from the whole face its sweet and natural +distinction. Frenzy, which had distorted the muscles and lit the eyes +with a baleful glare, was lacking at this moment. Repose had quieted +the soul and left the body free to express its natural harmonies. + +Sweetwater gazed at the winsome, brown head over the nurse’s shoulder, +and felt that for him a new and important factor had entered into this +case, with his recognition of this woman’s great beauty. How deep +a factor, he was far from suspecting, or he would not have met the +nurse’s eye with quite so cheery and self-confident a smile. + +“Excuse the intrusion,” he said. “We thought you might need these +things. Hexford signed for them.” + +“I’m obliged to you. Are you--one of them?” she sharply asked. + +“Would it disturb you if I were? I hope not. I’ve no wish to seem +intrusive.” + +“What do you want? Something, I know. Give it a name before there’s a +change there.” + +She nodded towards the bed, and Sweetwater took advantage of the +moment to scrutinise more closely the nurse herself. She was a robust, +fine-looking woman, producing an impression of capability united to +kindness. Strength of mind and rigid attendance to duty dominated the +kindness, however. If crossed in what she considered best for her +patient, possibly for herself, she could be severe, if not biting, in +her speech and manner. So much Sweetwater read in the cold, clear eye +and firm, self-satisfied mouth of the woman awaiting his response to +the curt demand she had made. + +“I want another good look at your patient, and I want your confidence +since you and I may have to see much of each other before this matter +is ended. You asked me to speak plainly and I have done so.” + +“You are from headquarters?” + +“Coroner Perry sent me.” Throwing back his coat, he showed his badge. +“The coroner has returned to his office. He was quite upset by the +outcry which came from this room at an unhappy moment during the +funeral.” + +“I know. It was my fault; I opened the door just for an instant, and in +that instant my patient broke through her torpor and spoke.” + +She had drawn him in, by this time, and, after another glance at her +patient, softly closed the door behind him. + +“I have nothing to report,” said she, “but the one sentence everybody +heard.” + +Sweetwater took in the little memorandum book and pencil which hung at +her side, and understood her position and extraordinary amenability to +his wishes. Unconsciously, a low exclamation escaped him. He was young +and had not yet sunk the man entirely in the detective. + +“A cruel necessity to watch so interesting a patient, for anything but +her own good,” he remarked. Yet, because he was a detective as well +as a man, his eye went wandering all over the room as he spoke until +it fell upon a peculiar-looking cabinet or closet, let into the wall +directly opposite the bed. “What’s that?” he asked. + +“I don’t know; I can’t make it out, and I don’t like to ask.” + +Sweetwater examined it for a moment from where he stood; then crossed +over, and scrutinised it more particularly. It was a unique specimen. +What it lacked in height--it could not have measured more than a foot +from the bottom to the top--it made up in length, which must have +exceeded five feet. The doors, of which it had two, were both tightly +locked; but as they were made of transparent glass, the objects +behind them were quite visible. It was the nature of these objects +which made the mystery. The longer Sweetwater examined them, the less +he understood the reason for their collection, much less for their +preservation in a room which in all other respects, expressed the +quintessence of taste. + +At one end he saw a stuffed canary, not perched on a twig, but lying +prone on its side. Near it was a doll, with scorched face and limbs +half-consumed. Next this, the broken pieces of a china bowl and what +looked like the torn remnants of some very fine lace. Further along, +his eye lighted on a young girl’s bonnet, exquisite in colour and +nicety of material, but crushed out of all shape and only betraying its +identity by its dangling strings. The next article, in this long array +of totally unhomogeneous objects, was a metronome, with its pendulum +wrenched half off and one of its sides lacking. He could not determine +the character of what came next, and only gave a casual examination to +the rest. The whole affair was a puzzle to him, and he had no time for +puzzles disconnected with the very serious affair he was engaged in +investigating. + +“Some childish nonsense,” he remarked, and moved towards the door. +“The servants will be coming back, and I had rather not be found here. +You’ll see me again--I cannot tell just when. Perhaps you may want to +send for me. If so, my name is Sweetwater.” + +His hand was on the knob, and he was almost out of the room when he +started and looked back. A violent change in the patient had occurred. +Disturbed by his voice or by some inner pulsation of the fever which +devoured her, Carmel had risen from the pillow and now sat, staring +straight before her with every feature working and lips opened as if to +speak. Sweetwater held his breath, and the nurse leaped towards her and +gently encircled her with protecting arms. + +“Lie down,” she prayed; “lie down. Everything is all right: I am +looking after things. Lie down, little one, and rest.” + +The young girl drooped, and, yielding to the nurse’s touch, sank slowly +back on the pillow; but in an instant she was up again, and flinging +out her hand, she cried out loudly just as she had cried an hour before: + +“Break it open! Break the glass and look in. Her heart should be +there--her heart--her heart!” + +“Go, or I cannot quiet her!” ordered the nurse, and Sweetwater turned +to obey. + +But a new obstacle offered. The brother had heard this cry, and now +stood in the doorway. + +“Who are you?” he impatiently demanded, surveying Sweetwater in sudden +anger. + +“I brought up the drugs,” was the quiet explanation of the ever-ready +detective. “I didn’t mean to alarm the young lady, and I don’t think I +did. It’s the fever, sir, which makes her talk so wildly.” + +“We want no strangers here,” was young Cumberland’s response. +“Remember, nurse, no strangers.” His tone was actually peremptory. + +Sweetwater observed him in real astonishment as he slid by and made his +quiet escape. He was still more astonished when, on glancing towards +the alcove, he perceived that, contrary to his own prognostication, the +whiskey stood as high in the decanter as before. + +“I’ve got a puzzler this time,” was his comment, as he made his way +downstairs. “Even Mr. Gryce would say that. I wonder how I’ll come out. +Uppermost!” he finished in secret emphasis to himself. “_Uppermost_! It +would never do for me to fail in the first big affair I’ve undertaken +on my own account.” + + + + +XV + +HELEN SURPRISES SWEETWATER + +Lurk, lurk. + +_King Lear_. + + +The returning servants drove up just as Sweetwater reached the lower +floor. He was at the side door when they came in, and a single glance +convinced him that all had gone off decorously at the grave, and that +nothing further had occurred during their absence to disturb them. + +He followed them as they filed away into the kitchen, and, waiting till +the men had gone about their work, turned his attention to the girls +who stood about very much as if they did not know just what to do with +themselves. + +“Sit, ladies,” said he, drawing up chairs quite as if he were doing the +honours of the house. Then with a sly, compassionate look into each +woe-begone face, he artfully remarked: “You’re all upset, you are, by +what Mr. Cumberland said in such an unbecoming way at the funeral. He’d +like to strangle Mr. Ranelagh! Why couldn’t he wait for the sheriff. It +looks as if that gentleman would have the job, all right.” + +“Oh! don’t!” wailed out one of the girls, the impressionable, +warm-hearted Maggie. “The horrors of this house’ll kill me. I can’t +stand it a minute longer. I’ll go--I’ll go to-morrow.” + +“You won’t; you’re too kind-hearted to leave Mr. Cumberland and his +sister in their desperate trouble,” Sweetwater put in, with a decision +as suggestive of admiration as he dared to assume. + +Her eyes filled, and she said no more. Sweetwater shifted his attention +to Helen. Working around by her side, he managed to drop these words +into her ear: + +“She talks most, but she doesn’t feel her responsibilities any more +than you do. I’ve had my experience with women, and you’re of the sort +that stays.” + +She rolled her eyes towards him, in a slow, surprised way, that would +have abashed most men. + +“I don’t know your name, or your business here,” said she; “but I do +know that you take a good deal upon yourself when you say what I shall +do or shan’t do. I don’t even know, myself.” + +“That’s because your eye is not so keen to your own virtues as--well, I +won’t say as mine, but as those of any appreciative stranger. I can’t +help seeing what you are, you know.” + +She turned her shoulder but not before he caught a slight disdainful +twitch of her rosy, non-communicative mouth. + +“Ah, ah, my lady, not quick enough!” thought he; and, with the most +innocent air in the world, he launched forth in a tirade against the +man then in custody, as though his guilt were an accepted fact and +nothing but the formalities of the law stood between him and his final +doom. “It must make you all feel queer,” he wound up, “to think you +have waited on him and seen him tramping about these rooms for months, +just as if he had no wicked feelings in his heart and meant to marry +Miss Cumberland, not to kill her.” + +“Oh, oh,” Maggie sobbed out. “And a perfect gentleman he was, too. I +can’t believe no bad of him. He wasn’t like--” Her breath caught, and +so suddenly that Sweetwater was always convinced that the more cautious +Helen had twitched her by her skirt. “Like--like other gentlemen who +came here. It was a kind word he had or a smile. I--I--” She made no +attempt to finish but bounded to her feet, pulling up the more sedate +Helen with her. “Let’s go,” she whispered, “I’m afeared of the man.” + +The other yielded and began to cross the floor behind the impetuous +Maggie. + +Sweetwater summoned up his courage. + +“One moment,” he prayed. “Will you not tell me, before you go, whether +the candlestick I have noticed on the dining-room mantel is not one of +a pair?” + +“Yes, there were two--_once_,” said Helen, resisting Maggie’s effort to +drag her out through the open door. + +“_Once_,” smiled Sweetwater; “by which you mean, three days ago.” + +A lowering of her head and a sudden make for the door. + +Sweetwater changed his tone to one of simple inquiry. + +“And was that where they always stood, the pair of them, one on each +end of the dining-room mantel?” + +She nodded; involuntarily, perhaps, but decisively. + +Sweetwater hid his disappointment. The room mentioned was a +thoroughfare for the whole family. Any member of it could have taken +the candlestick. + +“I’m obliged to you,” said he; and might have ventured further had she +given him the opportunity. But she was too near the door to resist the +temptation of flight. In another moment she was gone, and Sweetwater +found himself alone with his reflections. + +They were not altogether unpleasing. He was sure that he read the +evidences of struggle in her slowly working lips and changing impulses. + +“So, so!” thought he. “The good seed has found its little corner of +soil. I’ll leave it to take root and sprout. Perhaps the coroner will +profit by it. If not, I’ve a way of coaxing tender plants which should +bring this one to fruit. We’ll see.” + +The moon shone that night, much to Sweetwater’s discomforture. As he +moved about the stable-yard, he momentarily expected to see the window +of the alcove thrown up and to hear Mr. Cumberland’s voice raised in +loud command for him to quit the premises. But no such interruption +came. The lonely watcher, whose solitary figure he could just discern +above the unshaded sill, remained immovable, with his head buried in +his arms, but whether in sleep or in brooding misery, there was naught +to tell. + +The rest of the house presented an equally dolorous and forsaken +appearance. There were lights in the kitchen and lights in the +servants’ rooms at the top of the house, but no sounds either of +talking or laughing. All voices had sunk to a whisper, and if by chance +a figure passed one of the windows, it was in a hurried, frightened +way, which Sweetwater felt very ready to appreciate. + +In the stable it was no better. Zadok had bought an evening paper, +and was seeking solace from its columns. Sweetwater had attempted the +sociable but had been met by a decided rebuff. The coachman could +not forget his attitude before the funeral and nothing, not even the +pitcher of beer the detective proposed to bring in, softened the +forbidding air with which this old servant met the other’s advances. + +Soon Sweetwater realised that his work was over for the night and +planned to leave. But there was one point to be settled first. Was +there any other means of exit from these grounds save that offered by +the ordinary driveway? + +He had an impression that in one of his strolls about, he had detected +the outlines of a door in what looked like a high brick wall in the +extreme rear. If so, it were well worth his while to know where that +door led. Working his way along in the shadow cast by the house and +afterward by the stable itself, he came upon what was certainly a +wall and a wall with a door in it. He could see the latter plainly +from where he halted in the thick of the shadows. The moonlight shone +broadly on it, and he could detect the very shape and size of its +lock. It might be as well to try that lock, but he would have to cross +a very wide strip of moonlight in order to do so, and he feared to +attract attention to his extreme inquisitiveness. Yet who was there to +notice him at this hour? Mr. Cumberland had not moved, the girls were +upstairs, Zadok was busy with his paper, and the footman dozing over +his pipe in his room over the stable. Sweetwater had just come from +that room, and he knew. + +A quiet stable-yard and a closed door only ten feet away! He glanced +again at the latter, and made up his mind. Advancing in a quiet, +sidelong way he had, he laid his hand on the small knob above the +lock and quickly turned it. The door was unlocked and swung under his +gentle push. An alley-way opened before him, leading to what appeared +to be another residence street. He was about to test the truth of this +surmise when he heard a step behind him, and turning, encountered the +heavy figure of the coachman advancing towards him, with a key in his +hand. + +Zadok was of an easy turn, but he had been sorely tried that day, and +his limit had been reached. + +“You snooper!” he bawled. “What do you want here? Won’t the run of the +house content ye? Come! I want to lock that door. It’s my last duty +before going to bed.” + +Sweetwater assumed the innocent. + +“And I was just going this way. It looks like a short road into town. +It is, isn’t it?” + +“No! Yes,” growled the other. “Whichever it is, it isn’t your road +to-night. That’s private property, sir. The alley you see, belongs to +our neighbours. No one passes through there but myself and--” + +He caught himself in time, with a sullen grunt which may have been the +result of fatigue or of that latent instinct of loyalty which is often +the most difficult obstacle a detective has to encounter. + +“And Mr. Ranelagh, I suppose you would say?” was Sweetwater’s easy +finish. + +No answer; the coachman simply locked the door and put the key in his +pocket. + +Sweetwater made no effort to deter him. More than that he desisted from +further questions though he was dying to ask where this key was kept at +night, and whether it had been in its usual place on the evening of the +murder. He had gone far enough, he thought. Another step and he might +rouse this man’s suspicion, if not his enmity. But he did not leave +the shadows into which he again receded until he had satisfied himself +that the key went into the stable with the coachman, where it probably +remained for this night, at least. + +It was after ten when Sweetwater re-entered the house to say good night +to Hexford. He found him on watch in the upper hall, and the man, +Clarke, below. He had a word with the former: + +“What is the purpose of the little door in the wall back of the stable?” + +“It connects these grounds with those of the Fultons. The Fultons live +on Huested Street.” + +“Are the two families intimate?” + +“Very. Mr. Cumberland is sweet on the young lady there. She was at the +funeral to-day. She fainted when--you know when.” + +“I can guess. God! What complications arise! You don’t say that any +woman can care for _him_?” + +Hexford gave a shrug. He had seen a good deal of life. + +“He uses that door, then?” Sweetwater pursued, after a minute. + +“Probably.” + +“Did he use it that night?” + +“He didn’t visit _her_” + +“Where did he go?” + +“We can’t find out. He was first seen on Garden Street, coming home +after a night of debauch. He had drunk hard. Asked where he got the +liquor, he maundered out something about a saloon; but none of the +places which he usually frequents had seen him that night. I have tried +them all and some that weren’t in his books. It was no good.” + +“That door is supposed to be locked at night. Zadok says that’s his +duty. Was it locked that night?” + +“Can’t say. Perhaps the coroner can. You see the inquiry ran in such a +different direction, at first, that a small matter like that may have +been overlooked.” + +Sweetwater subdued the natural retort, and, reverting to the subject of +the saloons, got some specific information in regard to them. Then he +passed thoughtfully down-stairs, only to come upon Helen who was just +extinguishing the front-hall light. + +“Good night!” he said, in passing. + +“Good night, Mr. Sweetwater.” + +There was something in her tone which made him stop and look back. She +had stepped into the library and was blowing out the lamp there. He +paused a moment and sighed softly. Then he started towards the door, +only to stop again and cast another look back. She was standing in one +of the doorways, anxiously watching him and twisting her fingers in and +out in an irresolute way truly significant in one of her disposition. + +He felt his heart leap. + +Returning softly, he took up his stand before her, looking her straight +in the eye. + +“Good night,” he repeated, with an odd emphasis. + +“Good night,” she answered, with equal force and meaning. + +But the next moment she was speaking rapidly, earnestly. + +“I can’t sleep,” said she. “I never can when I’m not certain of my +duty. Mr. Ranelagh is an injured man. Ask what was said and done at +their last dinner here. I can’t tell you. I didn’t listen and I didn’t +see what happened, but it was something out of the ordinary. Three +broken wineglasses lay on the tablecloth when I went in to clear away. +I heard the clatter when they fell and smashed, but I said nothing. I +have said nothing since; but I know there was a quarrel, and that Mr. +Ranelagh was not in it, for his glass was the only one which remained +unbroken. Am I wrong in telling you? I wouldn’t if--if it were not +for Mr. Ranelagh. He didn’t do right by Miss Cumberland, but he don’t +deserve to be in prison; and so would Miss Carmel tell you if she knew +what was going on and could speak. _She_ loved him and--I’ve said +enough; I’ve said enough,” the agitated girl protested, as he leaned +eagerly towards her. “I couldn’t tell the priest any more. Good night.” + +And she was gone. + +He hesitated a moment, then pursued his way to the side door, and so +out of the house into the street. As he passed along the front of the +now darkened building, he scanned it with a new interest and a new +doubt. Soon he returned to his old habit of muttering to himself. “We +don’t know the half of what has taken place within those walls during +the last four weeks,” said he. “But one thing I will solve, and that is +where this miserable fellow spent the hours between this dinner they +speak of and the time of his return next day. Hexford has failed at it. +Now we’ll see what a blooming stranger can do.” + + + + +XVI + +62 CUTHBERT ROAD + +Tush! I will stir about, +And all things will be well, I warrant thee. + +_Romeo and Juliet_. + + +He was walking south and on the best lighted and most beautiful street +in town, but his eyes were forever seeking a break in the long line of +fence which marked off the grounds of a seemingly interminable stretch +of neighbouring mansions, and when a corner was at last reached, he +dashed around it and took a straight course for Huested Street, down +which he passed with quickened steps and an air of growing assurance. + +He was soon at the bottom of the hill where the street, taking a turn, +plunged him at once into a thickly populated district. As this was +still the residence quarter, he passed on until he gained the heart +of the town and the region of the saloons. Here he slackened pace and +consulted a memorandum he had made while talking to Hexford. “A big +job,” was his comment, sorry to find the hour quite so late. “But I’m +not bound to finish it to-night. A start is all I can hope for, so here +goes.” + +It was not his intention to revisit the places so thoroughly overhauled +by the police. He carried another list, that of certain small groceries +and quiet unobtrusive hotels where a man could find a private room +in which to drink alone; it being Sweetwater’s conviction that in +such a place, and in such a place only, would be found the tokens of +those solitary hours spent by Arthur Cumberland between the time of +his sister’s murder and his reappearance the next day. “Had they been +spent in his old haunts or in any of the well-known drinking saloons +of the city, some one would have peached on him before this,” he went +on, in silent argument with himself. “He’s too well known, too much of +a swell for all his lowering aspect and hang-dog look, to stroll along +unnoticed through any of the principal streets, so soon after the news +of his sister’s murder had set the whole town agog. Yet he was not seen +till he struck Garden Street, a good quarter of a mile from his usual +resorts.” + +Here, Sweetwater glanced up at the corner gas-lamp beneath which +he stood, and seeing that he was in Garden Street, tried to locate +himself in the exact spot where this young man had first been seen on +the notable morning in question. Then he looked carefully about him. +Nothing in the street or its immediate neighbourhood suggested the low +and secret den he was in search of. + +“I shall have to make use of the list,” he decided, and asked the first +passer-by the way to Hubbell’s Alley. + +It was a mile off. “That settles it,” muttered Sweetwater. “Besides, I +doubt if he would go into an _alley_. The man has sunk low, but hardly +so low as that. What’s the next address I have? Cuthbert Road. Where’s +that?” + +Espying a policeman eyeing him with more or less curiosity from the +other side of the street, he crossed over and requested to be directed +to Cuthbert Road. + +“Cuthbert Road! That’s where the markets are. They’re closed at this +time of night,” was the somewhat suspicious reply. + +Evidently the location was not a savoury one. + +“Are there nothing but markets there?” inquired Sweetwater, innocently. +It was his present desire not to be recognised as a detective even by +the men on beat. “I’m looking up a friend. He keeps a grocery or some +kind of small hotel. I have his number, but I don’t know how to get to +Cuthbert Road.” + +“Then turn straight about and go down the first street, and you’ll +reach it before the trolley-car you see up there can strike this +corner. But first, sew up your pockets. There’s a bad block between you +and the markets.” + +Sweetwater slapped his trousers and laughed. + +“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he cried; and following the officer’s +directions, made straight for the Road. “Worse than the alley,” he +muttered; “but too near to be slighted. I wonder if I shouldn’t have +borrowed somebody’s old coat.” + +It had been wiser, certainly. In Garden Street all the houses had been +closed and dark, but here they were open and often brightly lighted and +noisy from cellar to roof. Men, women, and frequently children, jostled +him on the pavement, and he felt his pockets touched more than once. +But he wasn’t Caleb Sweetwater of the New York department of police +for nothing. He laughed, bantered, fought his way through and finally +reached the quieter region and, at this hour, the almost deserted +one, of the markets. Sixty-two was not far off, and, pausing a moment +to consider his course, he mechanically took in the surroundings. He +was surprised to find himself almost in the open country. The houses +extending on his left were fronted by the booths and stalls of the +market but beyond these were the fields. Interested in this discovery, +and anxious to locate himself exactly, he took his stand under a +favouring gas-lamp, and took out his map. + +What he saw, sent him forward in haste. Shops had now taken the place +of tenements, and as these were mostly closed, there were very few +persons on the block, and those were quiet and unobtrusive. He reached +a corner before coming to 62 and was still more interested to perceive +that the street which branched off thus immediately from the markets +was a wide and busy one, offering both a safe and easy approach to +dealer and customer. “I’m on the track,” he whispered almost aloud in +his secret self-congratulation. “Sixty-two will prove a decent quiet +resort which I may not be above patronising myself.” + +But he hesitated when he reached it. Some houses invite and some repel. +This house repelled. Yet there was nothing shabby or mysterious about +it. There was the decent entrance, lighted, but not too brilliantly; a +row of dark windows over it; and, above it all, a sloping roof in which +another sparkle of light drew his attention to an upper row of windows, +this time, of the old dormer shape. An alley ran down one side of the +house to the stables, now locked but later to be thrown open for the +use of the farmers who begin to gather here as early as four o’clock. +Nothing wrong in its appearance, everything ship-shape and yet--“I +shall find some strange characters here,” was the Sweetwater comment +with which our detective opened the door and walked into the house. + +It was an unusual hour for guests, and the woman whom he saw bending +over a sort of desk in one corner of the room he strode into, looked up +hastily, almost suspiciously. + +“Well, and what is your business?” she asked, with her eye on his +clothes, which while not fashionable, were evidently of the sort not +often seen in that place. + +“I want a room,” he tipsily confided to her, “in which I can drink and +drink till I cannot see. I’m in trouble I am; but I don’t want to do +any mischief; I only want to forget. I’ve money, and--” as he saw her +mouth open, “and I’ve the stuff. Whiskey, just whiskey. Give me a room. +I’ll be quiet.” + +“I’ll give you nothing.” She was hot, angry, and full of distrust. +“This house is not for such as you. It’s a farmer’s lodging; honest +men, who’d stare and go mad to see a feller like you about. Go along, I +tell you, or I’ll call Jim. He’ll know what to do with you.” + +“Then, he’ll know mor’n I do myself,” mumbled the detective, with a +crushed and discouraged air. “Money and not a place to spend it in! Why +can’t I go in there?” he peevishly inquired with a tremulous gesture +towards a half-open door through which a glimpse could be got of a neat +little snuggery. “Nobody’ll see me. Give me a glass and leave me till I +rap for you in the morning. That’s worth a fiver. Don’t you think so, +missus?--And we’ll begin by passing over the fiver.” + +“No.” + +She was mighty peremptory and what was more, she was in a great hurry +to get rid of him. This haste and the anxious ear she turned towards +the hall enlightened him as to the situation. There was some one within +hearing or liable to come within hearing, who possibly was not so stiff +under temptation. Could it be her husband? If so, it might be worth his +own while to await the good man’s coming, if only he could manage to +hold his own for the next few minutes. + +Changing his tactics, he turned his back on the snuggery and surveyed +the offended woman, with just a touch of maudlin sentiment. + +“I say,” he cried, just loud enough to attract the attention of any one +within ear-shot. “You’re a mighty fine woman and the boss of this here +establishment; that’s evident. I’d like to see the man who could say +no to you. He’s never sat in that ’ere cashier’s seat where you be; of +that I’m dead sure. He wouldn’t care for fivers if you didn’t, nor for +tens either.” + +She was really a fine woman for her station, and a buxom, powerful one, +too. But her glance wavered under these words and she showed a desire, +with difficulty suppressed, to use the strength of her white but brawny +arms, in shoving him out of the house. To aid her self-control, he, on +his part, began to edge towards the door, always eyeing her and always +speaking loudly in admirably acted tipsy unconsciousness of the fact. + +“I’m a man who likes my own way as well as anybody,” were the words +with which he sought to save the situation, and further his own +purposes. “But I never quarrel with a woman. Her whims are sacred to +me. I may not believe in them; they may cost me money and comfort; but +I yield, I do, when they are as strong in their wishes as you be. I’m +going, missus --I’m going--Oh!” + +The exclamation burst from him. He could not help it. The door behind +him had opened, and a man stepped in, causing him so much astonishment +that he forgot himself. The woman was big, bigger than most women who +rule the roost and do the work in haunts where work calls for muscle +and a good head behind it. She was also rosy and of a make to draw the +eye, if not the heart. But the man who now entered was small almost to +the point of being a manikin, and more than that, he was weazen of face +and ill-balanced on his two tiny, ridiculous legs. Yet she trembled +at his presence, and turned a shade paler as she uttered the feeble +protest: + +“Jim!” + +“Is she making a fool of herself?” asked the little man in a voice as +shrill as it was weak. “Do your business with me. Women are no good.” +And he stalked into the room as only little men can. + +Sweetwater took out his ten; pointed to the snuggery, and tapped his +breast-pocket. “Whiskey here,” he confided. “Bring me a glass. I don’t +mind your farmers. They won’t bother me. What I want is a locked door +and a still mouth in your head.” + +The last he whispered in the husband’s ear as the wife crossed +reluctantly back to her books. + +The man turned the bill he had received, over and over in his hand; +then scrutinised Sweetwater, with his first show of hesitation. + +“You don’t want to kill yourself?” he asked. + +Sweetwater laughed with a show of good humour that appeared to relieve +the woman, if it did not the man. + +“Oh, that’s it,” he cried. “That’s what the missus was afraid of, was +it? Well, I vow! And ten thousand dollars to my credit in the bank! +No, I don’t want to kill myself. I just want to booze to my heart’s +content, with nobody by to count the glasses. You’ve known such fellers +before, and that cosey, little room over there has known them, too. +Just add me to the list; it won’t harm you.” + +The man’s hand closed on the bill. Sweetwater noted the action out of +the corner of his eye, but his direct glance was on the woman. Her back +was to him, but she had started as he mentioned the snuggery and made +as if to turn; but thought better of it, and bent lower over her books. + +“I’ve struck the spot,” he murmured, exultantly to himself. “This is +the place I want and here I’ll spend the night; but not to booze my +wits away, oh, no.” + +Nevertheless it was a night virtually wasted. He learned nothing more +than what was revealed by that one slight movement on the part of the +woman. + +Though the man came in and sat with him for an hour, and they drank +together out of the flask Sweetwater had brought with him, he was as +impervious to all Sweetwater’s wiles and as blind to every bait he +threw out, as any man the young detective had ever had to do with. +When the door closed on him, and Sweetwater was left to sit out the +tedious night alone, it was with small satisfaction to himself, and +some regret for his sacrificed bill. The driving in of the farmers and +the awakening of life in the market, and all the stir it occasioned +inside the house and out, prevented sleep even if he had been inclined +that way. He had to swallow his pill, and he did it with the best +grace possible. Sooner than was expected of him, sooner than was wise, +perhaps, he was on his feet and peering out of the one small window +this most dismal day room contained. He had not mistaken the outlook. +It gave on to the alley, and all that was visible from behind the +curtains where he stood, was the high brick wall of the neighbouring +house. This wall had not even a window in it; which in itself was a +disappointment to one of his resources. He turned back into the room, +disgusted; then crept to the window again, and, softly raising the +sash, cast one of his lightning glances up and down the alley. Then he +softly let the sash fall again and retreated to the centre of the room, +where he stood for a moment with a growing smile of intelligence and +hope on his face. He had detected close against the side of the wall, +a box or hand-cart full of empty bottles. It gave him an idea. With an +impetuosity he would have criticised in another man, he flung himself +out of the room in which he had been for so many hours confined, and +coming face to face with the landlady standing in unexpected watch +before the door, found it a strain on his nerves to instantly assume +the sullen, vaguely abused air with which he had decided to leave the +house. Nevertheless, he made the attempt, and if he did not succeed to +his own satisfaction, he evidently did to hers, for she made no effort +to stop him as he stumbled out, and in her final look, which he managed +with some address to intercept, he perceived nothing but relief. What +had been in her mind? Fear for him or fear for themselves? He could +not decide until he had rummaged that cart of bottles. But how was he +to do this without attracting attention to himself in a way he still +felt, to be undesirable. In his indecision, he paused on the sidewalk +and let his glances wander vaguely over the busy scene before him. +Before be knew it, his eye had left the market and travelled across +the snow-covered fields to a building standing by itself in the far +distance. Its appearance was not unfamiliar. Seizing hold of the first +man who passed him, he pointed it out, crying: + +“What building is that?” + +“That? That’s The Whispering Pines, the country club-house, where--” + +He didn’t wait for the end of the sentence, but plunged into the +thickest group of people he could find, with a determination greater +than ever to turn those bottles over before he ate. + +His manner of going about this was characteristic. Lounging about +the stalls until he found just the sort of old codger he wanted, he +scraped up an acquaintance with him on the spot, and succeeded in +making himself so agreeable that when the old fellow sauntered back to +the stables to take a look at his horse, Sweetwater accompanied him. +Hanging round the stable-door, he kept up his chatter, while sizing up +the bottles heaped in the cart at his side. He even allowed himself to +touch one or two in an absent way, and was meditating an accidental +upset of the whole collection when a woman he had not seen before, +thrust her head out of a rear window, shouting sharply: + +“Leave those bottles alone. They’re waiting for the old clothes man. He +pays us money for them.” + +Sweetwater gaped and strolled away. He had used his eyes to purpose, +and was quite assured that the bottle he wanted was not there. But +the woman’s words had given him his cue, and when later in the day a +certain old Jew peddler went his rounds through this portion of the +city, a disreputable-looking fellow accompanied him, whom even the +sharp landlady in Cuthbert Road would have failed to recognise as the +same man who had occupied the snuggery the night before. He was many +hours on the route and had many new experiences with human nature. But +he gained little else, and was considering with what words he should +acknowledge his defeat at police headquarters, when he found himself +again at the markets and a minute later in the alley where the cart +stood, with the contents of which he had busied himself earlier in the +day. + +He had followed the peddler here because he had followed him to every +other back door and alley. But he was tired and had small interest +in the cart which looked quite undisturbed and in exactly the same +condition as when he turned his back upon it in the morning. But when +he drew nearer and began to lend a hand in removing the bottles to the +waggon, he discovered that a bottle had been added to the pile, and +that this bottle bore the label which marked it as being one of the two +which had been taken from the club-house on the night of the murder. + + + + +XVII + +“MUST I TELL THESE THINGS?” + +Had I but died an hour before this chance, +I had liv’d a blessed time; for from this instant, +There’s nothing serious in mortality: +All is but toys; renown, and grace is dead; +The wine of life is drawn, and the lees +Is left this vault to brag of. + +_Macbeth_. + + +The lamp in the coroner’s room shone dully on the perturbed faces of +three anxious men. They had been talking earnestly and long, but were +now impatiently awaiting the appearance of a fourth party, as was shown +by the glances which each threw from time to time towards the door +leading into the main corridor. + +The district attorney courted the light, and sat where he would be the +first seen by any one entering. He had nothing to hide, being entirely +engrossed in his duty. + +Further back and rather behind the lamp than in front of it stood +or sat, as his restlessness prompted, Coroner Perry, the old friend +of Amasa Cumberland, with whose son he had now to do. Behind him, +and still further in the shadow, could be seen the quiet figure of +Sweetwater. All counted the minutes and all showed relief--the coroner +by a loud sigh--when the door finally opened and an officer appeared, +followed by the lounging form of Adelaide’s brother. + +Arthur Cumberland had come unwillingly, and his dissatisfaction did +not improve his naturally heavy countenance. However, he brightened a +little at sight of the two men sitting at the table, and, advancing, +broke into speech before either of the two officials had planned their +questions. + +“I call this hard,” he burst forth. “My place is at home and at the +bedside of my suffering sister, and you drag me down here at nine +o’clock at night to answer questions about things of which I am +completely ignorant. I’ve said all I have to say about the trouble +which has come into my family; but if another repetition of the same +things will help to convict that scoundrel who has broken up my home +and made me the wretchedest dog alive, then I’m ready to talk. So, fire +ahead, Dr. Perry, and let’s be done with it.” + +“Sit down,” replied the district attorney, gravely, with a gesture +of dismissal to the officer. “Mr. Cumberland, we have spared you up +to this time, for two very good reasons. You were in great trouble, +and you appeared to be in the possession of no testimony which +would materially help us. But matters have changed since you held +conversation with Dr. Perry on the day following your sister’s decease. +You have laid that sister away; the will which makes you an independent +man for life has been read in your hearing; you are in as much ease of +mind as you can be while your remaining sister’s life hangs trembling +in the balance; and, more important still, discoveries not made before +the funeral, have been made since, rendering it very desirable for +you to enter into particulars at this present moment, which were not +thought necessary then.” + +“Particulars? What particulars? Don’t you know enough, as it is, to +hang the fellow? Wasn’t he seen with his fingers on Adelaide’s throat? +What can I tell you that is any more damaging than that? Particulars!” +The word seemed to irritate him beyond endurance. Never had he looked +more unprepossessing or a less likely subject for sympathy, than when +he stumbled into the chair set for him by the district attorney. + +“Arthur!” + +The word had a subtle ring. The coroner, who uttered it, waited to +watch its effect. Seemingly it had none, after the first sullen glance +thrown him by the young man; and the coroner sighed again, but this +time softly, and as a prelude to the following speech: + +“We can understand,” said he, “why you should feel so strongly against +one who has divided the hearts of your sisters, and played with one, +if not with both. Few men could feel differently. You have reason for +your enmity and we excuse it; but you must not carry it to the point +of open denunciation before the full evidence is in and the fact of +murder settled beyond all dispute. Whatever you may think, whatever we +may think, it has not been so settled. There are missing links still to +be supplied, and this is why we have summoned you here and ask you to +be patient and give the district attorney a little clearer account of +what went on in your own house, before you broke up that evening and +you went to your debauch, and your sister Adelaide to her death at The +Whispering Pines.” + +“I don’t know what you mean.” He brought his fist down on the table +with each word. “Nothing went on. That is,--” + +“Something went on at dinner-time. It was not a usual meal,” put in the +district attorney. “You and your sisters--” + +“Stop!” He was at that point of passion which dulls the most +self-controlled to all sense of propriety. + +“Don’t talk to me about that dinner. I want to forget that dinner. I +want to forget everything but the two things I live for--to see that +fellow hanged, and to--” The words choked him, and he let his head +fall, but presently threw it up again. “That dastard, whom may God +confound, passed a letter across Adelaide into Carmel’s hand,” he +panted out. “I saw him, but I didn’t take it in; I wasn’t thinking. I +was--” + +“Who broke the glasses?” urged his relentless inquisitor. “One at your +plate, one at Carmel’s, and one at the head of the board where sat your +sister Adelaide?” + +“God! Must I tell these things?” He had started to his feet and his +hand, violent in all it did, struck his forehead impulsively, as he +uttered this exclamation. “Have it, then! Heaven knows I think of it +enough not to be afraid to speak it out in words. Adelaide”--the name +came with passion, but once uttered, produced its own calming effect, +so that he went on with more restraint--“Adelaide never had much +patience with me. She was a girl who only saw one way. ‘The right! the +right!’ was what she dinned into my ears from the time I was a small +boy and didn’t know but that all youngsters were brought up by sisters. +I grew to hate what she called ‘the right,’ I wanted pleasure, a free +time, and a good drink whenever the fancy took me. You know what I +am, Dr. Perry, and everybody in town knows; but the impulse which has +always ruled me was not a downright evil one; or if it was, I called +it natural independence, and let it go at that. But Adelaide suffered. +I didn’t understand it and I didn’t care a fig for it, but she _did_ +suffer. God forgive me!” + +He stopped and mopped his forehead. Sweetwater moved a trifle on his +seat, but the others--men who had passed the meridian of life, who +had known temptations, possibly had succumbed to them, from time to +time--sat like two statues, one in full light and the other in as dark +a shadow as he could find. + +“That afternoon,” young Cumberland presently resumed, “she was keyed up +more than usual. She loved Ranelagh,--damn him!--and he had played or +was playing her false. She watched him with eyes that madden me, now, +when I think of them. She saw him look at Carmel, and she saw Carmel +look at him. Then her eyes fell on me. I was angry; angry at them all, +and I wanted a drink. It was not her habit to have wine on the table; +but sometimes, when Ranelagh was there, she did. She was a slave to +Ranelagh, and he could make her do whatever he wished, just as he can +make you and everybody else.” + +Here he shot insolent glances at his two interlocutors, one of whom +changed colour--which, happily, he did not see. “‘Ring the bell,’ I +ordered, ‘and have in the champagne. I want to drink to your marriage +and the happy days in prospect for us all,’ It was brutal and I +knew it; but I was reckless and wild for the wine. So, I guess, was +Ranelagh, for he smiled at her, and she rang for the champagne. When +the glasses had been set beside each plate, she turned towards Carmel. +‘We will all drink,’ she said, ‘to my coming marriage,’ This made +Carmel turn pale; for Adelaide had never been known to drink a drop +of liquor in her life. I felt a little queer, myself; and not one +of us spoke till the glasses were filled and the maid had left the +dining-room and shut the door. + +“Then Adelaide rose. ‘We will drink standing,’ said she, and never +had I seen her look as she did then. I thought of my evil life +when I should have been watching Ranelagh; and when she lifted the +glass to her lips and looked at me, almost as earnestly as she did +at Ranelagh,--but it was a different kind of earnestness,--I felt +like--like--well, like the wretch I was and always had been; possibly, +always will be. She drank;--we wouldn’t call it drinking, for she just +touched the wine with her lips; but to her it was debauch. Then she +stood waiting, with the strangest gleam in her eyes, while Ranelagh +drained his glass and I drained mine. Ranelagh thought she wanted some +sentiment, and started to say something appropriate; but his eye fell +on Carmel, who had tried to drink and couldn’t, and he bungled over his +words and at last came to a pause under the steady stare of Adelaide’s +eyes. + +“‘Never mind, Elwood,’ she said; ‘I know what you would like to +say. But that’s not what I am thinking of now. I am thinking of my +brother, the boy who will soon be left to find his way through life +without even the unwelcome restraint of my presence. I want him to +remember this day. I want him to remember me as I stand here before +him with this glass in my hand. You see wine in it, Arthur; but I see +poison--poison--nothing else, for one like you who cannot refuse a +friend, cannot refuse your own longing. Never from this day on shall +another bottle be opened under my roof. Carmel, you have grieved as +well as I over what has passed for pleasure in this house. Do as I do, +and may Arthur see and remember.’ + +“Her fingers opened; the glass fell from her hand, and lay in broken +fragments beside her plate. Carmel followed suit, and, before I knew +it, my own fingers had opened, and my own glass lay in pieces on the +table-cloth beneath me. Only Ranelagh’s hand remained steady. He did +not choose to please her, or he was planning his perfidy and had +not caught her words or understood her action. She held her breath, +watching that hand; and I can hear the gasp yet with which she saw him +set his glass down quietly on the board. That’s the story of those +three broken glasses. If she had not died that night, I should be +laughing at them now; but she did die and I don’t laugh! I curse--curse +her recreant lover, and sometimes myself! Do you want anything more of +me? I’m eager to be gone, if you don’t.” + +The district attorney sought out and lifted a paper from the others +lying on the desk before him. It was the first movement he had made +since Cumberland began his tale. + +“I’m sorry,” said he, with a rapid examination of the paper in his +hand, “but I shall have to detain you a few minutes longer. What +happened after the dinner? Where did you go from the table?” + +“I went to my room to smoke. I was upset and thirsty as a fish.” + +“Have you liquor in your room?” + +“Sometimes.” + +“Did you have any that night?” + +“Not a drop. I didn’t dare. I wanted that champagne bottle, but +Adelaide had been too quick for me. It was thrown out--wasted--I do +believe, wasted.” + +“So you did not drink? You only smoked in your room?” + +“Smoked one cigar. That was all. Then I went down town.” + +His tone had grown sulky, the emotion which had buoyed him up till now, +seemed suddenly to have left him. With it went the fire from his eye, +the quiver from his lip, and it is necessary to add, everything else +calculated to awaken sympathy. He was simply sullen now. + +“May I ask by which door you left the house?” + +“The side door--the one I always take.” + +“What overcoat did you wear?” + +“I don’t remember. The first one I came to, I suppose.” + +“But you can surely tell what hat?” + +They expected a violent reply, and they got it. + +“No, I can’t. What has my hat got to do with the guilt of Elwood +Ranelagh?” + +“Nothing, we hope,” was the imperturbable answer. “But we find it +necessary to establish absolutely just what overcoat and what hat you +wore down street that night.” + +“I’ve told you that I don’t remember.” The young man’s colour was +rising. + +“Are not these the ones?” queried the district attorney, making a sign +to Sweetwater, who immediately stepped forward, with a shabby old +ulster over his arm, and a battered derby in his hand. + +The young man started, rose, then sat again, shouting out with angry +emphasis: + +“_No!_” + +“Yet you recognise these?” + +“Why shouldn’t I? They’re mine. Only I don’t wear them any more. +They’re done for. You must have rooted them out from some closet.” + +“We did; perhaps you can tell us what closet.” + +“I? No. What do I know about my old clothes? I leave that to the women.” + +The slight faltering observable in the latter word conveyed nothing to +these men. + +“Mr. Cumberland,”--the district attorney was very serious,--“this hat +and this coat, old as they are, were worn into town from your house +that night. This we know, absolutely. We can even trace them to the +club-house.” + +Mechanically, not spontaneously this time, the young man rose to his +feet, staring first at the man who had uttered these words, then at the +garments which Sweetwater still held in view. No anger now; he was too +deeply shaken for that, too shaken to answer at once--too shaken to be +quite the master of his own faculties. But he rallied after an interval +during which these three men devoured his face, each under his own +special anxiety, and read there possibly what each least wanted to see. + +“I don’t know anything about it,” were the words with which Arthur +Cumberland sought to escape from the net which had been thus deftly +cast about him. “I didn’t wear the things. Anybody can tell you what +clothes I came home in. Ranelagh may have borrowed--” + +“Ranelagh wore his own coat and hat. We will let the subject of apparel +drop, and come to a topic on which you may be better qualified to +speak. Mr. Cumberland, you have told us that you didn’t know at the +time, and can’t remember now, where you spent that night and most of +the next morning. All you can remember is that it was in some place +where they let you drink all you wished and leave when the fancy +took you, and not before. It was none of your usual haunts. This +seemed strange to your friends, at the time; but it is easier for us +to understand, now that you have told us what had occurred at your +home-table. You dreaded to have your sister know how soon you could +escape the influence of that moment. You wished to drink your fill and +leave your family none the wiser. Am I not right?” + +“Yes; it’s plain enough, isn’t it? Why harp on that string? Don’t you +see that it maddens me? Do you want to drive me to drink again?” + +The coroner interposed. He had been very willing to leave the burden of +this painful inquiry to the man who had no personal feelings to contend +with; but at this indignant cry he started forward, and, with an air of +fatherly persuasion, remarked kindly: + +“You mustn’t mind the official tone, or the official persistence. There +is reason for all that Mr. Fox says. Answer him frankly, and this +inquiry will terminate speedily. We have no wish to harry you--only to +get at the truth.” + +“The truth? I thought you had that pat enough. The truth? The truth +about what? Ranelagh or me? I should think it was about me, from the +kind of questions you ask.” + +“It is, just now,” resumed the district attorney, as his colleague drew +back out of sight once more. “You cannot remember the saloon in which +you drank. That’s possible enough; but perhaps you can remember what +they gave you. Was it whiskey, rum, absinthe, or what?” + +The question took his irritable listener by surprise. Arthur gasped, +and tried to steal some comfort from Coroner Perry’s eye. But that old +friend’s face was too much in shadow, and the young man was forced to +meet the district attorney’s eye, instead, and answer the district +attorney’s question. + +“I drank--absinthe,” he cried, at last. + +“From this bottle?” queried the other, motioning again to Sweetwater, +who now brought forward the bottle he had picked up in Cuthbert Road. + +Arthur Cumberland glanced at the bottle the detective held up, saw the +label, saw the shape, and sank limply in his chair, his eyes starting, +his jaw falling. + +“Where did you get that?” he asked, pulling himself together with a +sudden desperate self-possession that caused Sweetwater to cast a +quick significant glance at the coroner, as he withdrew to his corner, +leaving the bottle on the table. + +“That,” answered the district attorney, “was picked up at a small hotel +on Cuthbert Road, just back of the markets.” + +“I don’t know the place.” + +“It’s not far from The Whispering Pines. In fact, you can see the +club-house from the front door of this hotel.” + +“I don’t know the place, I tell you.” + +“It’s not a high-class resort; not select enough by a long shot, to +have this brand of liquor in its cellar. They tell me that this is of +very choice quality. That very few private families, even, indulge in +it. That there were only two bottles of it left in the club-house when +the inventory was last taken, that those two bottles are now gone, and +that--” + +“This is one of them? Is that what you want to say? Well, it may be for +all I know. I didn’t carry it there. I didn’t have the drinking of it.” + +“We have seen the man and woman who keep that hotel. They will talk, if +they have to.” + +“They will?” His dogged self-possession rather astonished them. “Well, +that ought to please you. I’ve nothing to do with the matter.” + +A change had taken place in him. The irritability approaching to +violence, which had attended every speech and infused itself into every +movement since he came into the room, had left him. He spoke quietly, +and with a touch of irony in his tone. He seemed more the man, but not +a whit more prepossessing, and, if anything, less calculated to inspire +confidence. The district attorney showed that he was baffled, and Dr. +Perry moved uneasily in his seat, until Sweetwater, coming forward, +took up the cue and spoke for the first time since young Cumberland +entered the room. + +“Then I have no doubt but you will do us this favour,” he volunteered, +in his pleasantest manner. “It’s not a long walk from here. Will you go +there in my company, with your coat-collar pulled up and your hat well +down over your eyes, and ask for a seat in the snuggery and show them +this bottle? They won’t know that it’s empty. The man is sharp and the +woman intelligent. They will see that you are a stranger, and admit you +readily. They are only shy of one man--the man who drank there on the +night of your sister’s murder.” + +“You ’re a--” he began, with a touch of his old violence; but +realising, perhaps, that his fingers were in a trap, he modified his +manner again, and continued more quietly. “This is an odd request +to make. I begin to feel as if my word were doubted here; as if my +failings and reckless confession of the beastly way in which I spent +that night, were making you feel that I have no good in me and am at +once a liar and a sneak. I’m not. I won’t go with you to that low +drinking hell, unless you make me, but I’ll swear--” + +“Don’t swear.” It is unnecessary to say who spoke. “We wouldn’t believe +you, and it would be only adding perjury to the rest.” + +“You wouldn’t believe me?” + +“No; we have reasons, my boy. There were two bottles.” + +“Well?” + +“The other has been found nearer your home.” + +“That’s a trick. You’re all up to tricks--” + +“Not in this case, Arthur. Let me entreat you in memory of your father +to be candid with us. We have arrested a man. He denies his guilt, +but can produce no witnesses in support of his assertions. Yet such +witnesses may exist. Indeed, we think that one such does exist. The man +who took the bottles from the club-house’s wine-vault did so within a +few minutes of the time when this crime was perpetrated on your sister. +He should be able to give valuable testimony for or against Elwood +Ranelagh. Now, you can see why we are in search of this witness and +why we think you can serve us in this secret and extraordinary matter. +If you can’t, say so; and we will desist from all further questions. +But this will not help you. It will only show that, in our opinion, +you have gained the rights of a man suspected of something more than +shirking his duty as an unknown and hitherto unsuspected witness.” + +“This is awful!” Young Cumberland had risen to his feet and was swaying +to and fro before them like a man struck between the eyes by some +maddening blow. + +“God! if I had only died that night!” he muttered, with his eyes upon +the floor and every muscle tense with the shock of this last calamity. +“Dr. Perry,” he moaned suddenly, stretching out one hand in entreaty, +and clutching at the table for support with the other, “let me go +for to-night. Let me think. My brain is all in a whirl. I’ll try to +answer to-morrow.” But even as he spoke he realised the futility of his +request. His eye had fallen again on the bottle, and, in its shape and +tell-tale label, he beheld a witness bound to testify against him if he +kept silent himself. + +“Don’t answer,” he went on, holding fast to the table, but letting his +other hand fall. “I was always a fool. I’m nothing but a fool now. I +may as well own the truth, and be done with it. I was in the clubhouse. +I did rob the wine-vault; I did carry off the bottles to have a quiet +spree, and it was to some place on Cuthbert Road I went. But, when +I’ve admitted so much, I’ve admitted all. I saw nothing of my sister’s +murder; saw nothing of what went on in the rooms upstairs. I crept in +by the open window at the top of the kitchen stairs, and I came out by +the same. I only wanted the liquor, and when I got it, I slid out as +quickly as I could, and made my way over the golf-links to the Road.” + +Wiping the sweat from his brow, he stood trembling. There was something +in the silence surrounding him which seemed to go to his heart; for +his free right hand rose unconsciously to his breast, and clung there. +Sweetwater began to wish himself a million of miles away from this +scene. This was not the enjoyable part of his work. This was the part +from which he always shrunk with overpowering distaste. + +The district attorney’s voice sounded thin, almost piercing, as he made +this remark: + +“You entered by an open window. Why didn’t you go in by the door?” + +“I hadn’t the key. I had only abstracted the one which opens the +wine-vault. The rest I left on the ring. It was the sight of this key, +lying on our hall-table, which first gave me the idea. I feel like a +cad when I think of it, but that’s of no account now. All I really care +about is for you to believe what I tell you. I wasn’t mixed up in that +matter of my sister’s death. I didn’t know about it--I wish I had. +Adelaide might have been saved; we might all have been saved; _but it +was not to be._” + +Flushed, he slowly sank back into his seat. No complaint, now, of being +in a hurry, or of his anxiety to regain his sick sister’s bedside. +He seemed to have forgotten those fears in the perturbations of the +moment. His mind and interest were here; everything else had grown dim +with distance. + +“Did you try the front door?” + +“What was the use? I knew it to be locked.” + +“What was the use of trying the window? Wasn’t it also, presumably, +locked?” + +The red mounted hot and feverish to his cheek. + +“You’ll think me no better than a street urchin or something worse,” he +exclaimed. “I knew that window; I had been through it before. You can +move that lock with your knife-blade. I had calculated on entering that +way.” + +“Mr. Ranelagh’s story receives confirmation,” commented the district +attorney, wheeling suddenly towards the coroner. “He says that he found +this window unlocked, when he approached it with the idea of escaping +that way.” + +Arthur Cumberland remained unmoved. + +The district attorney wheeled back. + +“There were a number of bottles taken from the wine-vault; some half +dozen were left on the kitchen table. Why did you trouble yourself to +carry up so many?” + +“Because my greed outran my convenience. I thought I could lug away an +armful, but there are limits to one’s ability. I realised this when I +remembered how far I had to go, and so left the greater part of them +behind.” + +“Why, when you had a team ready to carry you?” + +“A--I had no team.” But the denial cost him something. His cheek lost +its ruddiness, and took on a sickly white which did not leave it again +as long as the interview lasted. + +“You had no team? How then did you manage to reach home in time to make +your way back to Cuthbert Road by half-past eleven?” + +“I didn’t go home. I went straight across the golf-links. If fresh snow +hadn’t fallen, you would have seen my tracks all the way to Cuthbert +Road.” + +“If fresh snow had not fallen, we should have known the whole story of +that night before an hour had passed. How did you carry those bottles?” + +“In my overcoat pockets. These pockets,” he blurted out, clapping his +hands on either side of him. + +“Had it begun to snow when you left the clubhouse?” + +“No.” + +“Was it dark?” + +“I guess not; the links were bright as day, or I shouldn’t have got +over them as quickly as I did.” + +“Quickly? How quickly?” The district attorney stole a glance at the +coroner, which made Sweetwater advance a step from his corner. + +“I don’t know. I don’t understand these questions,” was the sullen +reply. + +“You walked quickly. Does that mean you didn’t look back?” + +“How, look back?” + +“Your sister lit a candle in the small room where her coat was found. +This light should have been visible from the golf-links.” + +“I didn’t see any light.” + +He was almost rough in these answers. He was showing himself now at his +very worst. + +A few more questions followed, but they were of minor import, and +aroused less violent feeling. The serious portion of the examination, +if thus it might be called, was over, and all parties showed the +reaction which follows all unnatural restraint or subdued excitement. + +The coroner glanced meaningly at the district attorney, who, tapping +with his fingers on the table, hesitated for a moment before he finally +turned again upon Arthur Cumberland. + +“You wish to return to your sister? You are at liberty to do so; I will +trouble you no more to-night. Your sleigh is at the door, I presume.” + +The young man nodded, then rising slowly, looked first at the district +attorney, then at the coroner, with a glance of searching inquiry which +did not escape the watchful eye of Sweetwater, lurking in the rear. +There was no display of anger, scarcely of impatience, in him now. If +he spoke, they did not hear him; and when he moved, it was heavily and +with a drooping head. They watched him go, each as silent as he. The +coroner tried to speak, but succeeded no better than the boy himself. +When the door opened under his hand, they all showed relief, but were +startled back into their former attention by his turning suddenly in +the doorway with this final remark: + +“What did you say about a bottle with a special label on it being found +at our house? It never was, or, if it was, some fellow has been playing +you a trick. I carried off those two bottles myself. One you see there; +the other is--I can’t tell where; but I didn’t take it home. That you +can bet on.” + +One more look, followed by a heavy frown and a low growling sound in +his throat--which may have been his way of saying good-bye--and he was +gone. + +Sweetwater came forward and shut the door; then the three men drew more +closely together, and the district attorney remarked: + +“He is better at the house. I hadn’t the heart on your account, Dr. +Perry, to hurry matters faster than necessity compels. What a lout he +is! Pardon me, but what a lout he is to have had two such uncommon and +attractive sisters.” + +“And such a father,” interposed the coroner. + +“Just so--and such a father. Sweetwater? Hey! what’s the matter? You +don’t look satisfied. Didn’t I cover the ground?” + +“Fully, sir, so far as I see now, but--” + +“Well, well--out with it.” + +“I don’t know what to out with. It’s all right but--I guess I’m a +fool, or tired, or something. Can I do anything more for you? If not, +I should like to hunt up a bunk. A night’s sleep will make a man of me +again.” + +“Go then; that is, if Dr. Perry has no orders for you.” + +“None. I want my sleep, too.” But Dr. Perry had not the aspect of one +who expects to get it. + +Sweetwater brightened. A few more words, some understanding as to the +morrow, and he was gone. The district attorney and the coroner still +sat, but very little passed between them. The clock overhead struck +the hour; both looked up but neither moved. Another fifteen minutes, +then the telephone rang. The coroner rose and lifted the receiver. The +message could be heard by both gentlemen, in the extreme quiet of this +midnight hour. + +“Dr. Perry?” + +“Yes, I’m listening.” + +“He came in at a quarter to twelve, greatly agitated and very white. +I ran upon him in the lower hall, and he looked angry enough to knock +me down; but he simply let out a curse and passed straight up to his +sister’s room. I waited till he came out; then I managed to get hold of +the nurse and she told me this queer tale: + +“He was all in a tremble when he came in, but she declares he had not +been drinking. He went immediately to the bedside; but his sister was +asleep, and he didn’t stay there, but went over where the nurse was, +and began to hang about her till suddenly she felt a twitch at her side +and, looking quickly, saw the little book she carries there, falling +back into place. He had lifted it, and probably read what she had +written in it during his absence. + +“She was displeased, but he laughed when he saw that he had been caught +and said boldly: ‘You are keeping a record of my sister’s ravings. +Well, I think I’m as interested in them as you are, and have as much +right to read as you to write. Thank God! they are innocent enough. +Even you must acknowledge that,’ She made no answer, for they were +innocent enough; but she’ll keep the book away from him after this--of +that you may be sure.” + +“And what is he doing now? Is he going into his own room to-night?” + +“No. He went there but only to bring out his pillows. He will sleep in +the alcove.” + +“Drink?” + +“No, not a drop. He has ordered the whiskey locked up. I hear him +moaning sometimes to himself as if he missed it awfully, but not a +thimbleful has left the decanter.” + +“Goodnight, Hexford.” + +“Good night.” + +“You heard?” This to the district attorney. + +“Every word.” + +Both went for their overcoats. Only on leaving did they speak again, +and then it was to say: + +“At ten o’clock to-morrow morning.” + +“At ten o’clock.” + + + + +XVIII + +ON IT WAS WRITTEN-- + +Can this avail thee? Look to it! + +_Prometheus Bound_. + + +The district attorney was right; Sweetwater was not happy. His night’s +rest had not benefited him. He had seemed natural enough when he first +appeared at the coroner’s office in the early morning, and equally +natural all through the lengthy conference which followed; but a half +hour later, any one who knew him well,--any of his fellow detectives in +New York; especially Mr. Gryce, who had almost fathered him since he +came among them, a raw and inexperienced recruit--would have seen at +first glance that his spirits were no longer at par, and that the cheer +he displayed in manner and look was entirely assumed, and likely to +disappear as soon as he found himself alone. + +And it did so disappear. When, at two o’clock, he entered the +club-house grounds, it was without buoyancy or any of the natural +animation with which he usually went about his work. Each step seemed +weighted with thought, or, at least, heavy with inner dissatisfaction. +But his eye was as keen as ever, and he began to use that eye from the +moment he passed the gates. What was in his mind? Was he hunting for +new clews, or was he merely seeking to establish the old? + +The officers on guard knew him, by this time, and let him pass hither, +thither, and where he would, unmolested. He walked up and down the +driveways, peering continuously at the well-trodden snow. He studied +the spaces between. He sauntered to the rear, and looked out over the +golf-links. Then he began to study the ground in this direction, as he +had already studied it in front. The few mutterings which left his lips +continued to speak of discontent. “If I had only had Clarke’s chance, +or even Hexford’s,” was among his complaints. “But what can I hope now? +The snow has been trampled till it is one solid cake of ice, to the +very edge of the golf-links. Beyond that, the distance is too great +for minute inspection. Yet it will have to be gone over, inch by inch, +before I shall feel satisfied. I must know how much of his story is to +be believed, and how much of it we can safely set aside.” + +He ended by wandering down on the golf-links. Taking out his watch, he +satisfied himself that he had time for an experiment, and immediately +started for Cuthbert Road. An hour later, he came wandering back, on a +different line. He looked soured, disappointed. When near the building +again, he cast his eye over its rear, and gazed long and earnestly at +the window which had been pointed out to him as the one from which +a possible light had shone forth that night. There were no trees on +this side of the house--only vines. But the vines were bare of leaves +and offered no obstruction to his view. “If there had been a light +in that window, any one leaving this house by the rear would have +seen it, unless he had been drunk or a fool,” muttered Sweetwater, in +contemptuous comment to himself. “Arthur Cumberland’s story is one lie. +I’ll take the district attorney’s suggestion and return to New York +to-night. My work’s done here.” + +Yet he hung about the links for a long time, and finally ended by +entering the house, and taking up his stand beneath the long, narrow +window of the closet overlooking the golf-links. With chin resting on +his arms, he stared out over the sill and sought from the space before +him, and from the intricacies of his own mind, the hint he lacked +to make this present solution of the case satisfactory to all his +instincts. + +“Something is lacking.” Thus he blurted out after a look behind him +into the adjoining room of death. “I can’t say what; nor can I explain +my own unrest, or my disinclination to leave this spot. The district +attorney is satisfied, and so, I’m afraid is the coroner; but I’m not, +and I feel as guilty--” + +Here he threw open the window for air, and, thrusting his head out, +glanced over the links, then aside at the pines, showing beyond the +line of the house on the southern end, and then out of mere idleness, +down at the ground beneath him. “As guilty,” he went on, “as Ranelagh +appears to be, and some one really is. I--” + +Starting, he leaned farther out. What was that he saw in the vines--not +on the snow of the ground, but half way up in the tangle of small +branches clinging close to the stone of the lower story, just beneath +this window? He would see. Something that glistened, something that +could only have got there by falling from this window. Could he reach +it? No; he would have to climb up from below to do that. Well, that +was easy enough. With the thought, he rushed from the room. In another +minute he was beneath that window; had climbed, pulled, pushed his way +up; had found the little pocket of netted vines observable from above; +had thrust in his fingers and worked a small object out; had looked +at it, uttered an exclamation curious in its mixture of suppressed +emotions, and let himself down again into the midst of the two or three +men who had scented the adventure and hastened to be witnesses of its +outcome. + +“A phial!” he exclaimed, “An empty phial, but--” Holding the little +bottle up between his thumb and forefinger, he turned it slowly about +until the label faced them. + +On it was written one word, but it was a word which invariably carries +alarm with it. + +That word was: _Poison_. + +Sweetwater did not return to New York that night. + + + + +XIX + +“IT’S NOT WHAT YOU WILL FIND” + +I am not mad;--I would to heaven I were! +For then, ’tis like I should forget myself: +O, if I could, what grief should I forget!-- +Preach some philosophy to make me mad, +For being not mad, but sensible of grief, +My reasonable part produces reason +How I may be delivered of these woes. + +_King John_. + + +“I regret to disturb you, Arthur; but my business is of great +importance, and should be made known to you at once. This I say as a +friend. I might have waited for the report to have reached you from +hearsay, or through the evening papers; but I preferred to be the one +to tell you. You can understand why.” + +Sullen and unmollified, the young man thus addressed eyed, +apprehensively, his father’s old friend, placed so unfortunately in his +regard, and morosely exclaimed: + +“Out with it! I’m a poor hand at guessing. What has happened now?” + +“A discovery. A somewhat serious one I fear; at least, it will force +the police to new action. Your sister may not have died entirely from +strangulation; other causes may have been at work!” + +“Now, what do you mean by that?” Arthur Cumberland was under his own +roof and in presence of one who should have inspired his respect; but +he made no effort to hide the fury which these words called up. “I +should like to know what deviltry is in your minds now. Am I never to +have peace?” + +“Peace and tragedy do not often run together,” came in the mild tones +of his would-be friend. “A great crime has taken place. All the members +of this family are involved--to say nothing of the man who lies, now, +under the odium of suspicion, in our common county jail. Peace can only +come with the complete clearing up of this crime, and the punishment +of the guilty. But the clearing up must antedate the punishment. +Mr. Ranelagh’s assertion that he found Miss Cumberland dead when he +approached her, may not be, as so many now believe, the reckless denial +of a criminal, disturbed in his act. It may have had a basis in fact.” + +“I don’t believe it. Nothing will make me believe it,” stormed the +other, jumping up, and wildly pacing the drawing-room floor. “It is all +a scheme for saving the most popular man in society. Society! That for +society!” he shouted out, snapping his fingers. “He is president of the +club; the pet of women; the admired of all the dolts and gawks who are +taken with his style, his easy laughter, and his knack at getting at +men’s hearts. He won’t laugh so easily when he’s up before a jury for +murder; and he’ll never again fool women or bulldoze men, even if they +are weak enough to acquit him of this crime. Enough of the smirch will +stick to prevent that. If it doesn’t, I’ll--” + +Again his hands went out in the horribly suggestive way they had done +at his sister’s funeral. The coroner sat appalled,--confused, almost +distracted between his doubts, his convictions, his sympathy for the +man and his recoil from the passions he would be only too ready to +pardon if he could feel quite sure of their real root and motive. +Cumberland may have felt the other’s silence, or he may have realised +the imprudence of his own fury; for he dropped his hands with an +impatient sigh, and blurted out: + +“But you haven’t told me your discovery. It seems to me it is a little +late to make discoveries now.” + +“This was brought about by the persistence of Sweetwater. He seems +to have an instinct for things. He was leaning out of the window at +the rear of the clubhouse--the window of that small room where your +sister’s coat was found--and he saw, caught in the vines beneath, a--” + +“Why don’t you speak out? I cannot tell what he found unless you name +it.” + +“A little bottle--an apothecary’s phial. It was labelled ‘Poison,’ and +it came from this house.” + +Arthur Cumberland reeled; then he caught himself up and stood, staring, +with a very obvious intent of getting a grip on himself before he spoke. + +The coroner waited, a slight flush deepening on his cheek. + +“How do you know that phial came from this house?” + +Dr. Perry looked up, astonished. He was prepared for the most frantic +ebullitions of wrath, for violence even; or for dull, stupid, blank +silence. But this calm, quiet questioning of fact took him by surprise. +He dropped his anxious look, and replied: + +“It has been seen on the shelves by more than one of your servants. +Your sister kept it with her medicines, and the druggist with whom you +deal remembers selling it some time ago to a member of your family.” + +“Which member? I don’t believe this story; I don’t believe any of +your--” He was fast verging on violence now. + +“You will have to, Arthur. Facts are facts, and we cannot go against +them. The person who bought it was yourself. Perhaps you can recall the +circumstance now.” + +“I cannot.” He did not seem to be quite master of himself. “I don’t +know half the things I do; at least, I didn’t use to. But what are +you coming to? What’s in your mind, and what are your intentions? +Something to shame us further, I’ve no doubt. You’re soft on Ranelagh +and don’t care how I feel, or how Carmel will feel when she comes to +herself--poor girl. Are you going to call it suicide? You can’t, with +those marks on her throat.” + +“We’re going to carry out our investigations to the full. We’re going +to hold the autopsy, which we didn’t think necessary before. That’s +why I am here, Arthur. I thought it your due to know our intentions +in regard to this matter. If you wish to be present, you have only to +say so; if you do not, you may trust me to remember that she was your +father’s daughter, as well as my own highly esteemed friend.” + +Shaken to the core, the young man sat down amid innumerable tokens of +the two near, if not dear, ones just mentioned; and for a moment had +nothing to say. Gone was his violence, gone his self-assertion, and +his insolent, captious attitude towards his visitor. The net had been +drawn too tightly, or the blow fallen too heavily. He was no longer a +man struggling with his misery, but a boy on whom had fallen a man’s +responsibilities, sufferings, and cares. + +“My duty is here,” he said at last. “I cannot leave Carmel.” + +“The autopsy will take place to-morrow. How is Carmel to-day?” + +“No better.” The words came with a shudder. “Doctor, I’ve been a brute +to you. I am a brute! I have misused my life and have no strength with +which to meet trouble. What you propose to do with--with Adelaide is +horrible to me. I didn’t love her much while she was living; I broke +her heart and shamed her, from morning till night, every day of her +life; but good-for-nothing as I am and good-for-nothing as I’ve always +been, if I could save her body this last humiliation, I would willingly +die right here and now, and be done with it. Must this autopsy take +place?” + +“It must.” + +“Then--” He raised his arm; the blood swept up, dyeing his cheeks, his +brow, his very neck a vivid scarlet. “Tell them to lock up every bottle +the house holds, or I cannot answer for myself. I should like to drink +and drink till I knew nothing, cared for nothing, was a madman or a +beast.” + +“You will not drink.” The coroner’s voice rang deep; he was greatly +moved. “You will not drink, and you will come to the office at five +o’clock to-morrow. We may have only good news to impart. We may find +nothing to complicate the situation.” + +Arthur Cumberland shook his head. “It’s not what you will find--” said +he, and stopped, biting his lips and looking down. + +The coroner uttered a few words of consolation forced from him by the +painfulness of the situation. The young man did not seem to hear them. +The only sign of life he gave was to rush away the moment the coroner +had taken his leave, and regain his seat within sight and hearing of +his still unconscious sister. As he did so, these words came to his +ears through the door which separated them: + +“Flowers--I smell flowers! Lila, you always loved flowers; but I never +saw your hands so full of them.” + +Arthur uttered a sharp cry; then, bowing his face upon his aims, he +broke into sobs which shook the table where he sat. + +Twenty-four hours later, in the coroner’s office, sat an anxious group +discussing the great case and the possible revelations awaiting them. +The district attorney, Mr. Clifton, the chief of police, and one or two +others--among them Sweetwater--made up the group, and carried on the +conversation. Dr. Perry only was absent. He had undertaken to make the +autopsy and had been absent, for this purpose, several hours. + +Five o’clock had struck, and they were momentarily looking for his +reappearance; but, when the door opened, as it did at this time, it was +to admit young Cumberland, whose white face and shaking limbs betrayed +his suspense and nervous anxiety. + +He was welcomed coldly, but not impolitely, and sat down in very much +the same place he had occupied during his last visit, but in a very +different, and much more quiet state of mind. To Sweetwater, his aspect +was one of despair, but he made no remark upon it; only kept all his +senses alert for the coming moment, of so much importance to them all. +But even he failed to guess how important, until the door opened again, +and the coroner appeared, looking not so much depressed as stunned. +Picking out Arthur from the group, he advanced towards him with some +commonplace remark; but desisted suddenly and turned upon the others +instead. + +“I have finished the autopsy,” said he. “I knew just what poison the +phial had held, and lost no time in my tests. A minute portion of +this drug, which is dangerous only in large quantities, was found +in the stomach of the deceased; but not enough to cause serious +trouble, and she died, as we had already decided, from the effect of +the murderous clutch upon her throat. But,” he went on sternly, as +young Cumberland moved, and showed signs of breaking in with one of +his violent invectives against the supposed assassin, “I made another +discovery of still greater purport. When we lifted the body out of its +resting-place, something beside withered flowers slid from her breast +and fell at our feet. The ring, gentlemen--the ring which Ranelagh says +was missing from her hand when he came upon her, and which certainly +was not on her finger when she was laid in the casket,--rolled to the +floor when we moved her. Here it is; there is one person here, at +least, who can identify it. But I do not ask that person to speak. That +we may well spare him.” + +He laid the ring on the table, not too near Arthur, not within reach +of his hand, but close enough for him to see it. Then he sat down, and +hid his face in his hands. The last few days had told on him. He looked +older, by ten years, than he had at the beginning of the month. + +The silence which followed these words and this action, was memorable +to everybody there concerned. Some had seen, and all had heard of young +Cumberland’s desperate interruption of the funeral, and the way his +hand had invaded the flowers which the children had cast in upon her +breast. As the picture, real or fancied, rose before their eyes, one +man rose and left his place at the table; then another, and presently +another. Even Charles Clifton drew back. The district attorney remained +where he was, and so did young Cumberland. The latter had reached out +his hand, but he had not touched the ring, and he sat thus, frozen. +What went on in his heart, no man there could guess, and he did not +enlighten them. When at last he looked up, it was with a dazed air and +an almost humble mien: + +“Providence has me this time,” he muttered. “I don’t understand these +mysteries. You will have to deal with them as you think best.” His +eyes, still glued to the jewel, dilated and filled with fierce light +as he said this. “Damn the ring, and damn the man who gave it to her! +However it came into her casket, he’s at the bottom of the business, +just as he was at the bottom of her death. If you think anything else, +you will think a lie.” + +Turning away, he made for the door. There was in his manner, +desperation approaching to bravado, but no man made the least effort to +detain him. Not till he was well out of the room did any one move, then +the district attorney raised his finger, and Arthur Cumberland did not +ride back to his home alone. + + + + +BOOK THREE + +HIDDEN SURPRISES + + + + +XX + +“HE OR YOU! THERE IS NO THIRD” + +A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, +And yet I would not sleep Merciful powers! +Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature +Gives way to in repose. + +_Macbeth_. + + +For several days I had been ill. They were merciful days to me since +I was far too weak for thought. Then there came a period of conscious +rest, then renewed interest in life and my own fate and reputation. +What had happened during this interval? + +I had a confused memory of having seen Clifton’s face at my bedside, +but I was sure that no words had passed between us. When would he come +again? When should I hear about Carmel, and whether she were yet alive, +or mercifully dead, like her sister? I might read the papers, but they +had been carefully kept from me. Not one was in sight. The nurse would +undoubtedly give me the information I desired, but, kind as she had +been, I dreaded to consult a stranger about matters which involved my +very existence and every remaining hope. Yet I must know; for I could +not help thinking, now, and I dreaded to think amiss and pile up misery +for myself when I needed support and consolation. + +I would risk one question, but no more. I would ask about the inquest. +Had it been held? If she said yes--ah, if she said yes!--I should know +that Carmel was dead; and the news, coming thus, would kill me. So I +asked nothing, and was lying in a sufficiently feverish condition when +the doctor came in, saw my state, and thinking to cheer me up, remarked +blandly: + +“You are well enough this morning to hear good news. Do you recognise +the room you are in?” + +“I’m in the hospital, am I not?” + +“Hardly. You are in one of Mr. O’Hagen’s own rooms.” (Mr. O’Hagen was +the head keeper.) “You are detained, now, simply as a witness.” + +I was struck to the heart; terrified in an instant. + +“What? Why? What has happened?” I questioned, rapidly, half starting +up, then falling back on my pillow under his astonished eye. + +“Nothing,” he parried, seeing his mistake, and resorting to the +soothing process. “They simply have had time to think. You’re not the +sort of man from which criminals are made.” + +“That’s nonsense,” I retorted, reckless of his opinion, and mad to know +the truth, yet shrinking horribly from it. “Criminals are made from all +kinds of men; neither are the police so philosophical. Something has +occurred. But don’t tell me--” I protested inconsistently, as he opened +his lips. “Send for Mr. Clifton. He’s my friend; I can better bear--” + +“Here he is,” said the doctor, as the door softly opened under the +nurse’s careful hand. + +I looked up, saw Charles’s faithful face, and stretched out my hand +without speaking. Never had I needed a friend more, and never had I +been more constrained in my greeting. I feared to show my real heart, +my real fears, my real reason for not hailing my release, as every one +evidently expected me to! + +With a gesture to the nurse, the doctor tiptoed out, muttering to +Clifton, as he passed, some word of warning or casual instruction. The +nurse followed, and Clifton, coming forward, took a seat at my side. +He was cheerful but not too cheerful; and the air of slight constraint +which tinged his manner, as much as it did mine, did not escape me. + +“Well, old fellow,” he began-- + +My hand went up in entreaty. + +“Tell me why they have withdrawn their suspicions. I’ve heard +nothing--read nothing--for days. I don’t understand this move.” + +For reply, he laid his hand on mine. + +“You’re stanch,” he began. “You have my regard, Elwood. Not many men +would have stood the racket and sacrificed themselves as you have done. +The fact is recognised, now, and your motive--” + +I must have turned very white; for he stopped and sprang to his feet, +searching for some restorative. + +I felt the need of blinding him to my condition. With an effort, which +shook me from head to foot, I lifted myself from the depths into which +his words had plunged me, and fighting for self-control, faltered +forth, feebly enough: + +“Don’t be frightened. I’m all right again; I guess I’m not very strong +yet. Sit down; I don’t need anything.” + +He turned and surveyed me carefully, and finding my colour restored, +reseated himself, and proceeded, more circumspectly: + +“Perhaps I had better wait till to-morrow before I satisfy your +curiosity,” said he. + +“And leave me to imagine all sorts of horrors? No! Tell me at once. +Is--is--has anything happened at the Cumberlands’?” + +“Yes. What you feared has happened--No, no; Carmel is not dead. Did +you think I meant that? Forgive me. I should have remembered that you +had other causes for anxiety than the one weighing on our minds. She +is holding her own--just holding it--but that is something, in one so +young and naturally healthy.” + +I could see that I baffled him. It could not be helped. I did not dare +to utter the question with which my whole soul was full. I could only +look my entreaty. He misunderstood it, as was natural enough. + +“She does not know yet what is in store for her,” were his words; +and I could only lie still, and look at him helplessly, and try +not to show the despair that was sinking me deeper and deeper into +semi-unconsciousness. “When she comes to herself, she will have to +be told; but you will be on your feet, then, and will be allowed, no +doubt, to soften the blow for her by your comfort and counsel. The fact +that it must have been you, if not he--” + + +“_He!_” Did I shout it, or was the shout simply in my own mind? I +trembled as I rose on my elbow. I searched his face in terror of my +self-betrayal; but his showed only compassion and an eager desire to +clear the air between us by telling me the exact facts. + +“Yes--Arthur. His guilt has not been proven; he has not even been +remanded; the sister’s case is too pitiful and Coroner Perry too +soft-hearted, where any of that family is involved. But no one doubts +his guilt, and he does not deny it himself. You know--probably no +one better--that he cannot very consistently do this, in face of +the evidence accumulated against him, evidence stronger in many +regards, than that accumulated against yourself. The ungrateful boy! +The--the--Pardon me, I don’t often indulge in invectives against +unhappy men who have their punishment before them, but I was thinking +of you and what you have suffered in this jail, where you have not +belonged--no, not for a day.” + +“Don’t think of me.” The words came with a gasp. I was never so hard +put to it--not when I first realised that I had been seen with my +fingers on Adelaide’s throat. Arthur! A booby and a boor, but certainly +not the slayer of his sister, unless I had been woefully mistaken in +all that had taken place in that club-house previous to my entrance +into it on that fatal night. As I caught Clifton’s eye fixed upon me, +I repeated--though with more self-control, I hope: “Don’t think of me. +I’m not thinking of myself. You speak of evidence. What evidence? Give +me details. Don’t you see that I am burning with curiosity? I shan’t be +myself till I hear.” + +This alarmed him. + +“It’s a risk,” said he. “The doctor told me to be careful not to excite +you too much. But suspense is always more intolerable than certainty, +and you have heard too much to be left in ignorance of the rest.” + +“Yes, yes,” I agreed feverishly, pressing his hand. + +“It all came about through you,” he blundered on. “You told me of the +fellow you saw riding away from The Whispering Pines at the time you +entered the grounds. I passed the story on to the coroner, and he to +a New York detective they have put on this case. He and Arthur’s own +surly nature did the rest.” + +I cringed where I lay. This was my work. The person who drove out +of the club-house grounds while I stood in the club-house hall was +Carmel--and the clew I had given, instead of baffling and confusing +them, had led directly to Arthur! + +Seeing nothing peculiar--or at all events, giving no evidence of having +noted anything peculiar in my movement--Clifton went evenly on, pouring +into my astonished ears the whole long story of this detective’s +investigations. + +I heard of his visit at the mechanic’s cottage and of the +identification of the hat marked by Eliza Simmons’s floury thumb, +with an old one of Arthur’s, fished out from one of the Cumberland +closets; then, as I lay dumb, in my secret dismay and perturbation, of +Arthur’s acknowledged visit to the club-house, and his abstraction of +the bottles, which to all minds save my own, perhaps, connected him +directly and well-nigh unmistakably, with the crime. + +“The finger of God! Nothing else. Such coincidences cannot be natural,” +was my thought. And I braced myself to meet the further disclosures I +saw awaiting me. + +But when these disclosures were made, and Arthur’s conduct at the +funeral was given its natural explanation by the finding of the +tell-tale ring in Adelaide’s casket, I was so affected, both by the +extraordinary nature of the facts and the doubtful position in which +they seemed to place one whom, even now, I found it difficult to +believe guilty of Adelaide’s death, that Clifton, aroused, in spite of +his own excitement, to a sudden realisation of my condition, bounded to +his feet and impetuously cried out: + +“I had to tell you. It was your due and you would not have been +satisfied if I had not. But I fear that I rushed my narrative too +suddenly upon you; that you needed more preparation, and that the +greatest kindness I can show you now, is to leave before I do further +mischief.” + +I believe I answered. I know that his idea of leaving was insupportable +to me. That I wanted him to stay until I had had time to think and +adjust myself to these new conditions. Instinctively, I did not +feel as certain of Arthur’s guilt as he did. My own case had taught +me the insufficiency of circumstantial evidence to settle a mooted +fact. Besides, I knew Arthur even better than I did his sisters. He +was as full of faults, and as lacking in amiable and reliable traits +as any fellow of my acquaintance. But he had not the inherent snap +which makes for crime. He lacked the vigour which,--God forgive me +the thought!--lay back of Carmers softer characteristics. I could not +imagine him guilty; I could, for all my love, imagine his sister so, +and did. The conviction would not leave my mind. + +“Charles,” said I, at last, struggling for calmness, and succeeding +better in my task than either he or I expected; “what motive do +they assign for this deed? Why should Arthur follow Adelaide to the +club-house and kill her? Now, if he had followed me--” + +“You were at dinner with them that night, and know what she did and +what she vowed about the wine. He was very angry. Though he dropped +his glass, and let it shiver on the board, he himself says that he was +desperately put out with her, and could only drown his mad emotions in +drink. He knew that she would hear of it if he went to any saloon in +town; so he stole the key from your bunch, and went to help himself +out of the club-house wine-vault. That’s how he came to be there. What +followed, who knows? He won’t tell, and we can only conjecture. The +ring, which she certainly wore that night, might give the secret away; +but it is not gifted with speech, though as a silent witness it is +exceedingly eloquent.” + +The episode of the ring confused me. I could make nothing out of +it, could not connect it with what I myself knew of the confused +experiences of that night. But I could recall the dinner and the sullen +aspect, not unmixed with awe, with which this boy contemplated his +sister when his own glass fell from his nerveless fingers. My own heart +was not in the business; it was on the elopement I had planned; but I +could not help seeing what I have just mentioned, and it recurred to me +now with fatal distinctness. The awe was as great as the sullenness. +Did that offer a good foundation for crime? I disliked Arthur. I had +no use for the boy, and I wished with all my heart to detect guilt in +his actions, rather than in those of the woman I loved; but I could not +forget that tinge of awe on features too heavy to mirror very readily +the nicer feelings of the human soul. It would come up, and, under the +influence of this impression I said: + +“Are you sure that he made no denial of this crime? That does not seem +like Arthur, guilty or innocent.” + +“He made none in my presence and I was in the coroner’s office when +the ring was produced from its secret hiding-place and set down before +him. There was no open accusation made, but he must have understood the +silence of all present. He acknowledged some days ago, when confronted +with the bottle found in Cuthbert Road, that he had taken both it and +another from the club-house just before the storm began to rage that +night.” + +“The hour, the very hour!” I muttered. + +“He entered and left by that upper hall window, or so he says; but he +is not to be believed in all his statements. Some of his declarations +we know to be false.” + +“Which ones? Give me a specimen, Charlie. Mention something he has said +that you know to be false.” + +“Well, it is hard to accuse a man of a direct lie. But he cannot be +telling the truth when he says that he crossed the links immediately to +Cuthbert Road, thus cutting out the ride home, of which we have such +extraordinary proof.” + +Under the fear of betraying my thoughts, I hurriedly closed my eyes. +I was in an extraordinary position, myself. What seemed falsehood to +them, struck me as the absolute truth. Carmel had been the one to go +home; he, without doubt, had crossed the links, as he said. As this +conviction penetrated deeply and yet more deeply into my mind, I +shrank inexpressibly from the renewed mental struggle into which it +plunged me. To have suffered, myself,--to have fallen under the ban of +suspicion and the disgrace of arrest--had certainly been hard; but it +was nothing to beholding another in the same plight through my own rash +and ill-advised attempt to better my position and Carmel’s by what I +had considered a totally harmless subterfuge. + +I shuddered as I anticipated the sleepless hours of silent debate which +lay before me. The voice which whispered that Arthur Cumberland was +not over-gifted with sensitiveness and would not feel the shame of his +position like another, did not carry with it an indisputable message, +and could not impose on my conscience for more than a passing moment. +The lout was human; and I could not stifle my convictions in his favour. + +But Carmel! + +I clenched my hands under the clothes. I wished it were not high +noon, but dark night; that Clifton would only arise or turn his eyes +away; that something or anything might happen to give me an instant +of solitary contemplation, without the threatening possibility of +beholding my thoughts and feelings reflected in another’s mind. + +Was this review instantaneous, or the work of many minutes? Forced by +the doubt to open my eyes, I met Clifton’s full look turned watchfully +on me. The result was calming; even to my apprehensive gaze it betrayed +no new enlightenment. My struggle had been all within; no token of it +had reached him. + +This he showed still more plainly when he spoke. + +“There will be a close sifting of evidence at the inquest. You will +not enjoy this; but the situation, hard as it may prove, has certainly +improved so far as you are concerned. That should hasten your +convalescence.” + +“Poor Arthur!” burst from my lips, and the cry was echoed in my heart. +Then, because I could no longer endure the pusillanimity which kept me +silent, I rose impulsively into a sitting posture, and, summoning all +my faculties into full play, endeavoured to put my finger on the one +weak point in the evidence thus raised against Carmel’s brother. + +“What sort of a man would you make Arthur out to be, when you accuse +him of robbing the wine-vault on top of a murderous assault on his +sister?” + +“I know. It argues a brute, but he--” + +“Arthur Cumberland is selfish, unresponsive, and hard, but he is not a +brute. I’m disposed to give him the benefit of my good opinion to this +extent, Charlie; I cannot believe he first poisoned and then choked +that noble woman.” + +Clifton drew himself up in his turn, astonishment battling with renewed +distrust. + +“Either he or you, Ranelagh!” he exclaimed, firmly. “There is no third +person. This you must realise.” + + + + +XXI + +CARMEL AWAKES + +One woe doth tread upon another’s heel, +So fast they follow. + +_Hamlet_. + + +Later, I asked myself many questions, and wandered into mazes of +speculation which only puzzled me and led nowhere. I remembered the +bottles; I remembered the ring. I went back, in fancy, to the hour of +my own entrance into the club-house, and, recalling each circumstance, +endeavoured to fit the facts of Arthur’s story with those of my own +experience. + +Was he in the building when I first stepped into it? It was just +possible. I had been led to prevaricate as to the moment I entered the +lower gateway, and he may have done the same as to the hour he left by +the upper hall window. Whatever his denials on this or any subject, I +was convinced that he knew, as well as I, that Carmel had been in the +building with her sister, and was involved more or less personally in +the crime committed there. Might it not be simply as his accessory +after the fact? If only I could believe this! If my knowledge of him +and of her would allow me to hug this forlorn hope, and behold, in +this shock to her brain, and in her look and attitude on leaving the +club-house, only a sister’s horror at a wilful brother’s crime! + +But one fact stood in the way of this--a fact which nothing but some +predetermined, underhanded purpose on her part could explain. She had +gone in disguise to The Whispering Pines, and she had returned home +in the same suspicious fashion. The wearing of her brother’s hat and +coat over her own womanly garments was no freak. There had been purpose +in it--a purpose which demanded secrecy. That Adelaide should have +accompanied her under these circumstances was a mystery. But then the +whole affair was a mystery, totally out of keeping, in all its details, +with the characters of these women, save--and what a fearful exception +I here make--the awful end, which, alas! bespoke the fiery rush and +impulse to destroy which marked Carmel’s unbridled rages. + +Of a less emotional attack she would be as incapable as any other +good woman. Poison she would never use. Its presence there was due to +another’s forethought, another’s determination. But the poison had +not killed. Both glasses had been emptied, but--Ah! those glasses. +What explanation had the police, now, for those two emptied glasses? +They had hitherto supposed me to be the second person who had joined +Adelaide in this totally uncharacteristic drinking. + +To whom did they now attribute this act? To Arthur, the brother whose +love for liquor in every form she had always decried, and had publicly +rebuked only a few hours before? Knowing nothing of Carmel having +been on the scene, they must ascribe this act either to him or to me; +and when they came to dwell upon this point more particularly--when +they came to study the exact character of the relations which had +always subsisted between Adelaide and her brother--they must see the +improbability of her drinking with him under any circumstances. Then +their thoughts would recur to me, and I should find myself again a +suspect. The monstrous suggestion that Arthur had brought the liquor +there himself, had poured it out and forced her to drink it, poison and +all, out of revenge for her action at the dinner-table a short time +before, did not occur to me then, but if it had, there were the three +glasses--he would not bring _three_; nor would Adelaide; nor, as I saw +it, would Carmel. + +Chaos! However one looked at it, chaos! Only one fact was clear--that +Carmel knew the whole story and might communicate the same, if ever her +brain cleared and she could be brought to reveal the mysteries of that +hour. Did I desire such a consummation? Only God, who penetrates more +deeply than ourselves into the hidden regions of the human heart, could +tell. I only know that the fear and expectation of such an outcome made +my anguish for the next two weeks. + +Would she live? Would she die? The question was on every tongue. The +crisis of her disease was approaching, and the next twenty-four hours +would decide her fate, and in consequence, my own, if not her brother +Arthur’s. As I contemplated the suspense of these twenty-four hours, +I revolted madly for the first time against the restrictions of my +prison. I wanted air, movement, the rush into danger, which my horse +or my automobile might afford. Anything which would drag my thoughts +from that sick room, and the anticipated stir of that lovely form +into conscious life and suffering. Her eyes--I could see her eyes +wakening upon the world again, after her long wandering in the unknown +and unimaginable intricacies of ungoverned thought and delirious +suggestion. Eyes of violet colour and infinite expression; eyes which +would make a man’s joy if they smiled on him in innocence; but which, +as I well knew, had burned more than once, in her short but strenuous +life, with fiery passions; and might, at the instant of waking, betray +this same unholy gleam under the curious gaze of the unsympathetic ones +set in watch over her. + +What would her first word be? Whither would her first thought fly? To +Adelaide or to me; to Arthur or to her own frightened and appalled +self? I maddened as I dwelt upon the possibilities of this moment. I +envied Arthur; I envied the attendants; I envied even the servants in +the house. They would all know sooner than I. Carmel! Carmel! + +Sending for Clifton, I begged him to keep himself in communication with +the house, or with the authorities. He promised to do what he could; +then, perceiving the state I was in, he related all he knew of present +conditions. No one was allowed in the sick room but the nurse and the +doctor. Even Arthur was denied admission, and was wearing himself +out in his own room as I was wearing myself out here, in restless +inactivity. He expected her to sink and never to recover consciousness, +and was loud in his expressions of rebellion against the men who +dared to keep him from her bedside when her life was trembling in the +balance. But the nurse had hopes and so had the doctor. As for Carmel’s +looks, they were greatly changed, but beautiful still in spite of the +cruel scar left by her fall against the burning bars of her sister’s +grate. No delirium disturbed the rigid immobility in which she now lay. +I could await her awakening with quiet confidence in the justice of God. + +Thus Clifton, in his ignorance. + +The day was a bleak one, dispiriting in itself even to those who could +go about the streets and lose themselves in their tasks and round of +duties. To me it was a dead blank, marked by such interruptions as +necessarily took place under the prison routine. The evening hours +which followed them were no better. The hands on my watch crawled. When +the door finally opened, it came as a shock. I seemed to be prepared +for anything but the termination of my suspense. I knew that it was +Clifton who entered, but I could not meet his eye. I dug my nails +into my palms, and waited for his first word. When it came, I felt my +spirits go down, down--I had thought them at their lowest ebb before. +He hesitated, and I started up: + +“Tell me,” I cried. “Carmel is dead!” + +“Not dead,” said he, “but silly. Her testimony is no more to be relied +upon than that of any other wandering mind.” + + + + +XXII + +“BREAK IN THE GLASS!” + +This inundation of mistempered humour +Rests by you only to be qualified. + +_King John_. + + +It was some time before I learned the particulars of this awakening. + +It had occurred at sunset. A level beam of light had shot across the +bed, and the nurse had moved to close the blind, when a low exclamation +from the doctor drew her back, to mark the first faint fluttering of +the snowy lids over the long-closed eyes. Afterwards she remembered +what a picture her youthful patient made, with the hue of renewed life +creeping into her cheeks, in faint reflection of the nest of roseate +colour in which she lay. + +Carmel’s hair was dark; so were her exquisitely pencilled eye-brows, +and the long lashes which curled upward from her cheek. In her +surroundings of pink--warm pink, such as lives in the heart of the +sea-shell--their duskiness took on an added beauty; and nothing, not +even the long, dark scar running from eye to chin could rob the face +of its individuality and suggestion of charm. She was lovely; but it +was the loveliness of line and tint, just as a child is lovely. Soul +and mind were still asleep, but momentarily rousing, as all thought, +to conscious being--and, if to conscious being, then to conscious +suffering as well. + +It was a solemn moment. If the man who loved her had been present--or +even her brother, who, sullen as he was, must have felt the tie of +close relationship rise superior even to his fears at an instant so +critical,--it would have been more solemn yet. But with the exception +of the doctor and possibly the nurse, only those interested in her as a +witness in the most perplexing case on the police annals, were grouped +in silent watchfulness about the room, waiting for the word or look +which might cut the Gordian knot which none of them, as yet, had been +able to untangle. + +It came suddenly, as all great changes come. One moment her lids were +down, her face calm, her whole figure quiet in its statue-like repose; +the next, her big violet eyes had flashed open upon the world, and +lips and limbs were moving feebly, but certainly, in their suddenly +recovered freedom. It was then--and not at a later moment when +consciousness had fully regained its seat--that her face, to those who +stood nearest wore the aspect of an angel’s. What she saw, or what +vision remained to her from the mysterious world of which she had so +long been a part, none ever knew--nor could she, perhaps, have told. +But the rapture which informed her features and elevated her whole +expression but poorly prepared them for the change which followed her +first glance around on nurse and doctor. The beam which lay across +the bed had been no brighter than her eye during that first tremulous +instant of renewed life. But the clouds fell speedily and very +human feelings peered from between those lids as she murmured, half +petulantly: + +“Why do you look at me so? Oh, I remember, I remember!” + +And a flush, of which they little thought her weakened heart capable, +spread over her features, hiding the scar and shaming her white lips. +“What’s the matter?” she complained again, as she tried to raise her +hands, possibly to hide her face. “I cannot move as I used to do, and I +feel--I feel--” + +“You have been ill,” came soothingly from the doctor. “You have been +in bed many days; now you are better and will soon be well. This is +your nurse.” He said nothing of the others, who were so placed behind +screens as to be invisible to her. + +She continued to gaze, first at one, then at the other; confidently at +the doctor, doubtfully at the nurse. As she did so, the flush faded and +gave way to an anxious, troubled expression. Not just the expression +anticipated by those who believed that, with returning consciousness, +would come returning memory of the mysterious scene which had taken +place between herself and sister, or between her sister and her +brother, prior to Adelaide’s departure for The Whispering Pines. Had +they shared my knowledge--had they even so much as dreamed that their +patient had been the companion of one or both of the others in this +tragic escapade--how much greater would have been their wonder at the +character of this awakening. + +“You have the same kind look for me as always,” were her next words, +as her glance finally settled on the doctor. “But hers--Bring me the +mirror,” she cried. “Let me see with my own eyes what I have now to +expect from every one who looks at me. I want to know before Lila comes +in. Why isn’t she here? Is she with--with--” She was breaking down, but +caught herself back with surprising courage, and almost smiled, I was +told. Then in the shrill tones which will not be denied, she demanded +again, “The mirror!” + +Nurse Unwin brought it. Her patient evidently remembered the fall she +had had in her sister’s room, and possibly the smart to her cheek when +it touched the hot iron. + +“I see only my forehead,” she complained, as the nurse held the mirror +before her. “Move it a little. Lower--lower,” she commanded. Then +suddenly “Oh!” + +She was still for a long time, during which the nurse carried off the +glass. + +“I--I don’t like it,” she acknowledged quaintly to the doctor, as +he leaned over her with compassionate words. “I shall have to get +acquainted with myself all over again. And so I have been ill! I +shouldn’t have thought a little burn like that would make me ill. How +Adelaide must have worried.” + +“Adelaide is--is not well herself. It distressed her to have been out +when you fell. Don’t you remember that she went out that night?” + +“Did she? She was right. Adelaide must have every pleasure. She +had earned her good times. I must be the one to stay home now, and +look after things, and learn to be useful. I don’t expect anything +different. Call Adelaide, and let me tell her how--how satisfied I am.” + +“But she’s ill. She cannot come. Wait till tomorrow, dear child. Rest +is what you need now. Take these few drops and go to sleep again, and +you’ll not know yourself to-morrow.” + +“I don’t know myself now,” she repeated, glancing with slowly dilating +eyes at the medicine glass he proffered. “I can’t take it,” she +protested. “I forget now why, but I can’t take anything more from a +glass. I’ve promised not to, I think. Take it away; it makes me feel +queer. Where is Adelaide?” + +Her memory was defective. She could not seem to take in what the doctor +told her. But he tried her again. Once more he spoke of illness as the +cause of Adelaide’s absence. Her attention wandered while he spoke of +it. + +“How it did hurt!” she cried. “But I didn’t think much about it. I +thought only of--” Next moment her voice rose in a shriek, thin but +impetuous, and imbued with a note of excited feeling which made every +person there start. “There should be _two_,” she cried. “_Two_! Why is +there only one?” + +This sounded like raving. The doctor’s face took on a look of concern, +and the nurse stirred uneasily. + +“One is not enough! That is why Adelaide is not satisfied; why she does +not come and love and comfort me, as I expected her to. Tell her it is +not too late yet, not too late yet, not too late--” + +The doctor’s hand was on her forehead. This “not too late,” whatever +she meant by it, was indescribably painful to the listeners, oppressed +as they were by the knowledge that Adelaide lay in her grave, and that +all fancies, all hopes, all meditated actions between these two were +now, so far as this world goes, forever at an end. + +“Rest,” came in Dr. Carpenter’s most soothing tones. “Rest, my +little Carmel; forget everything and rest.” He thought he knew the +significance of her revolt from the glass he had offered her. She +remembered the scene at the Cumberland dinner-table on that fatal +night and shrank from anything that reminded her of it. Ordering the +medicine put in a cup, he offered it to her again, and she drank it +without question. As she quieted under its influence, the disappointed +listeners, now tip-toeing carefully from the room, heard her murmur in +final appeal: + +“Cannot Adelaide spare one minute from--from her company downstairs, to +wish me health and kiss me good night?” + +Was it weakness, or a settled inability to remember anything but that +which filled her own mind? + +It proved to be a settled inability to take in any new ideas or even +to remember much beyond the completion of that dinner. As the days +passed and news of her condition came to me from time to time, I found +that she had not only forgotten what had passed between herself and +the rest of the family previous to their departure for the club-house, +but all that had afterwards occurred at The Whispering Pines, even to +her own presence there and the ride home. She could not even retain +in her mind for any appreciable length of time the idea of Adelaide’s +death. Even after Dr. Carpenter, with infinite precautions, revealed to +her the truth--not that Adelaide had been murdered, but that Adelaide +had passed away during the period of her own illness, Carmel gave but +one cry of grief, then immediately burst forth in her old complaint +that Adelaide neglected her. She had lost her happiness and hope, and +Adelaide would not spare her an hour. + +This expression, when I heard of it, convinced me, as I believe it did +some others, that her act of self-denial in not humouring my whim and +flying from home and duty that night, had made a stronger impression on +her mind than all that came after. + +She never asked for Arthur. This may have grieved him; but, according +to my faithful friend and attorney, it appeared to have the contrary +effect, and to bring him positive relief. When it was borne in on +him, as it was soon to be borne in on all, that her mind was not what +it was, and that the beautiful Carmel had lost something besides her +physical perfection in the awful calamity which had made shipwreck of +the whole family, he grew noticeably more cheerful and less suspicious +in his manner. Was it because the impending inquiry must go on without +her, and proceedings, which had halted till now, be pushed with all +possible speed to a finish? So those who watched him interpreted his +changed mood, with a result not favourable to him. + +With this new shock of Carmel’s inability to explain her own part in +this tragedy and thus release my testimony and make me a man again +in my own eyes, I lost the sustaining power which had previously +held me up. I became apathetic; no longer counting the hours, and +thankful when they passed. Arthur had not been arrested; but he +understood--or allowed others to see that he understood, the reason +for the surveillance under which he was now strictly kept; and, though +he showed less patience than myself under the shameful suspicion which +this betokened, he did not break out into open conflict with the +authorities, nor did he protest his innocence, or take any other stand +than the one he had assumed from the first. + +All this gave me much food for thought, but I declined to think. I +had made up my mind from the moment I realised Carmel’s condition, +that there was nothing for me to do till after the inquest. The +public investigation which this would involve, would show the trend +of popular opinion, and thus enlighten me as to my duty. Meanwhile, I +would keep to the old lines and do the best I could for myself without +revealing the fact of Carmel’s near interest in a matter she was in +no better condition to discuss now than when in a state of complete +unconsciousness. + +Of that inquest, which was held in due course, I shall not say much. +Only one new fact was elicited by its means, and that of interest +solely as making clear how there came to be evidences of poison in +Adelaide’s stomach, without the quantity being great enough for more +than a temporary disturbance. + +Maggie, the second girl, had something to say about this when the +phial which had held the poison was handed about for inspection. She +had handled that phial many times on the shelf where it was kept. Once +she had dropped it, and the cork coming out, some of the contents had +escaped. Frightened at the mishap, she had filled the phial up with +water, and put it, thus diluted, back on the shelf. No one had noticed +the difference, and she had forgotten all about the matter until now. +From her description, there must have been very little of the dangerous +drug left in the phial; and the conclusions of Dr. Perry’s autopsy +received a confirmation which ended, after a mass of testimony tending +rather to confuse than enlighten, the jury, in the non-committal +verdict: + +Death by strangulation at the hands of some person unknown. + +I had expected this. The evidence, pointing as it did in two opposing +directions, presented a problem which a coroner’s jury could hardly be +expected to solve. What followed, showed that not only they but the +police authorities as well, acknowledged the dilemma. I was allowed one +sweet half hour of freedom, then I was detained to await the action of +the grand jury, and so was Arthur. + +When I was informed of this latter fact, I made a solemn vow to myself. +It was this: If it falls to my lot to be indicted for this murderous +offence, I will continue to keep my own counsel, as I have already +done, in face of lesser provocation and at less dangerous risk. But, +if I escape and a true bill should be found against Arthur, then +will I follow my better instinct, and reveal what I have hitherto +kept concealed, even if the torment of the betrayal drive me to +self-destruction afterwards. For I no longer cherished the smallest +doubt, that to Carmel’s sudden rage and to that alone, the death of +Adelaide was due. + +My reason for this change from troubled to absolute conviction can be +easily explained. It dated from the inquest, and will best appear in +the relation of an interview I held with my attorney, Charles Clifton, +very soon after my second incarceration. + +We had discussed the situation till there seemed to be nothing left to +discuss. I understood him, and he thought he understood me. He believed +Arthur guilty, and credited me with the same convictions. Thus only +could he explain my inconceivable reticence on certain points he was +very well assured I could make clear if I would. That he was not the +only man who had drawn these same conclusions from my attitude both +before and during the inquest, troubled me greatly and deeply disturbed +my conscience, but I could indulge in no protests--or, rather would +indulge in no protests--as yet. There was an unsolved doubt connected +with some facts which had come out at the inquest--or perhaps, I should +call it a circumstance not as yet fully explained--which disturbed me +more than did my conscience, and upon this circumstance I must have +light before I let my counsel leave me. + +I introduced the topic thus: + +“You remember the detached sentences taken down by the nurse during the +period of Carmel’s unconsciousness. They were regarded as senseless +ravings, and such they doubtless were; but there was one of them which +attracted my attention, and of which I should like an explanation. I +wish I had that woman’s little book here; I should like to read for +myself those wandering utterances.” + +“You can,” was the unexpected and welcome reply. “I took them all down +in shorthand as they fell from Dr. Perry’s lips. I have not had time +since to transcribe them, but I can read some of them to you, if you +will give me an idea as to which ones you want.” + +“Read the first--what she said on the day of the funeral. I do not +think the rest matter very much.” + +Clifton took a paper from his pocket, and, after only a short delay, +read out these words: + +“_December the fifth_: Her sister’s name, uttered many times and with +greatly varied expression--now in reproach, now in terror, now in what +seemed to me in tones of wild pleading and even despair. This continued +at intervals all through the day. + +“At three P.M., just as people were gathering for the funeral, the +quick, glad cry: ‘I smell flowers, sweet, sweet flowers!’” + +Alas! she did. + +“At three-forty P.M., as the services neared their close, a violent +change took place in her appearance, and she uttered in shrill tones +those astonishing words which horrified all below and made us feel that +she had a clairvoyant knowledge of the closing of the casket, then +taking place: + +“‘Break it open! Break it open! and see if her heart is there!’” + +“Pause there,” I said; “that is what I mean. It was not the only time +she uttered that cry. If you will glance further down, you will come +across a second exclamation of the like character.” + +“Yes; here it is. It was while the ubiquitous Sweetwater was mousing +about the room.” + +“Read the very words he heard. I have a reason, Clifton. Humour me for +this once.” + +“Certainly--no trouble. She cried, this time: ‘Break it open! Break the +glass and look in. Her heart should be there--her heart--her heart! +Horrible! but you insisted, Ranelagh.” + +“I thought I heard that word glass,” I muttered, more to myself than to +him. Then, with a choking fear of giving away my thought, but unable to +resist the opportunity of settling my own fears, I asked: “Was there +glass in the casket lid?” + +“No; there never is.” + +“But she may have thought there was,” I suggested hastily. “I’m +much obliged to you, Clifton. I had to hear those sentences again. +Morbidness, no doubt; the experience of the last three weeks would +affect a stronger-minded man than myself.” Then before he could reply: +“What do you think the nurse meant by a violent change in her patient?” + +“Why, she roused up, I suppose--moved, or made some wild or feverish +gesture.” + +“That is what I should like to know. I may seem foolish and +unnecessarily exacting about trifles; but I would give a great deal to +learn precisely where she looked, and what she did at the moment she +uttered those wild words. Is the detective Sweetwater still in town?” + +“I believe so. Came up for the inquest but goes back to-night.” + +“See him, Clifton. Ask him to relate this scene. He was present, you +know. Get him to talk about it. You can, and without rousing his +suspicion, keen as they all say he is. And when he talks, listen +and remember what he says. But don’t ask questions. Do this for me, +Clifton. Some day I may be able to explain my request, but not now.” + +“I’m at your service,” he replied; but he looked hurt at being thus set +to work in the dark, and I dared say nothing to ease the situation. I +did not dare even to prolong the conversation on this subject, or on +any other subject. In consequence, he departed speedily, and I spent +the afternoon wondering whether he would return before the day ended, +or leave me to the endurance of a night of suspense. I was spared this +final distress. He came in again towards evening, and this was what he +told me: + +“I have seen Sweetwater, and was more fortunate in my interview than +I expected. He talked freely, and in the course of the conversation, +described the very occurrence in which you are so interested. Carmel +had been lying quietly previous to this outbreak, but suddenly started +into feverish life and, raising herself up in her bed, pointed straight +before her and uttered the words we have so often repeated. That’s all +there was to it, and I don’t see for my part, what you have gained by a +repetition of the same, or why you lay so much stress upon her gesture. +What she said was the thing, though even that is immaterial from a +legal point of view--which is the only view of any importance to you or +to me, at this juncture.” + +“You’re a true friend to me,” I answered, “and never more so than in +this instance. Forgive me that I cannot show my appreciation of your +goodness, or thank you properly for your performance of an uncongenial +task. I am sunk deep in trouble. I’m not myself and cannot be till I +know what action will be taken by the grand jury.” + +If he replied, I have no remembrance of it; neither do I recall his +leave-taking. But I was presently aware that I was alone and could +think out my hideous thought, undisturbed. + +Carmel had pointed straight before her, shouting out: “Break in the +glass!” + +I knew her room; I had been taken in there once by Adelaide, as a +sequence to a long conversation about Carmel, shortly after her first +return from school. Adelaide wished to show me the cabinet in the wall, +the cabinet at which Carmel undoubtedly pointed, if her bed stood as it +had stood then. It was not quite full, at that time. It did not contain +Adelaide’s heart among the other broken toys which Carmel had destroyed +with her own hand or foot, in her moments of frenzied passion--the +canary, that would not pick from her hand, the hat she hated, the bowl +which held only bread and milk when she wanted meat or cake. Adelaide +had kept them all, locked behind glass and in full view of the child’s +eyes night and day, that the shame of those past destructive moments +might guard her from their repetition and help her to understand her +temper and herself. I had always thought it cruel of Adelaide, one of +the evidences of the flint-like streak which ran through her otherwise +generous and upright nature. But its awful prophecy was what affected +me most now; for destruction had fallen on something more tender than +aught that cabinet held. + +Adelaide’s heart! And Carmel acknowledged it--acknowledged that it +should be there, with what else she had trampled upon and crushed +in her white heat of rage. I could not doubt her guilt, after this. +Whatever peace her forgetfulness had brought--whatever innocent longing +after Adelaide--the wild cry of those first few hours, ere yet the +impressions of her awful experience had succumbed to disease, revealed +her secret and showed the workings of her conscience. It had not been +understood; it had passed as an awesome episode. But for me, since +hearing of it, she stood evermore convicted out of her own mouth--that +lovely mouth which angels might kiss in her hours of joyous serenity; +but from whose caress friends would fly, when the passion reigned in +her heart and she must break, crush, kill, or go mad. + + + + +XXIII + +AT TEN INSTEAD OF TWELVE + +Forget the world around you. Meantime friendship +Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active, +Only be manageable when that friendship +Points you the road to full accomplishment. + +_Coleridge_. + + +“I don’t care a rush what you do to me. If you are so besotted by your +prejudices that you refuse to see the nose before your face; if you +don’t believe your own officer who swore he saw Ranelagh’s hands upon +my sister’s throat, then this world is all a jumble and it makes very +little difference to me whether I’m alive or dead.” + +When these words of Arthur Cumberland were repeated to me, I echoed +them in my inmost soul. I, too, cared very little whether I lived or +died. + +The grand jury reeled off its cases and finally took up ours. To the +last I hoped--sincerely I think--that I should be the man to suffer +indictment. But I hoped in vain. A true bill was brought against +Arthur, and his trial was set for the eighteenth of January. + +The first use I made of my liberty was to visit Adelaide’s grave. In +that sacred place I could best review my past and gather strength for +the future. The future! Was it under my control? Did Arthur’s fate hang +upon my word? I believed so. But had I strength to speak that word? I +had expected to; I had seen my duty clearly enough before the sitting +of the grand jury. But now that Arthur was indicted--now that it was an +accepted fact that he would have to stand trial instead of myself, I +was conscious of such a recoil from my contemplated action that I lost +all confidence in myself and my stoical adherence to what I considered +the claims of justice. + +Standing in the cemetery grounds with my eyes upon the snow-covered +mound beneath which lay the doubly injured Adelaide, I had it out with +myself, for good and all. + +I trusted Arthur; I distrusted Carmel. But she had claims to +consideration, which he lacked. She was a woman. Her fall would mean +infinitely more to her than any disgrace to him. Even he had seemed to +recognise this. Miserable and half-hearted as his life had been, he had +shown himself man enough not to implicate his young sister in the crime +laid to his charge. What then was I that I should presume to disregard +his lead in the difficult maze in which we were both lost. Yet, because +of the self-restraint he manifested, he had my sympathy and when I left +the cemetery and took my mournful way back into town, it was with the +secret resolution to stand his friend if I saw the case really going +against him. Till then, I would consider the helpless girl, tongue-tied +by her condition, and injured enough already by my misplaced love and +its direful consequences. + +The only change I now allowed myself was an occasional midnight stroll +up Huested Street. This was as near as I dared approach Carmel’s +windows. I feared some watchful police spy. Perhaps I feared my own +hardly-to-be-restrained longings. + +Mr. Fulton’s house and extensive grounds lay between this street and +the dismal walls beyond the huge sycamore which lifted itself like a +beacon above the Cumberland estate. But I allowed myself the doubtful +pleasure of traversing this course, and this course only, and if I +obtained one glimpse through bush and tree of the spot whither all my +thoughts ran continuously, I went home satisfied. + +This was before Carmel left with her nurse for Lakewood. After that +event, I turned my head no more, in taking my midnight stroll. I was +not told the day or hour of her departure. Happily, perhaps, for us +both, for I could never have kept away from the station. I should have +risked everything for one glimpse of her face, if only to satisfy +my own judgment as to whether she would ever recognise me again, or +remember what had occurred on that doleful night when the light of her +intellect set in the darkness of sin and trouble. + +The police had the same idea, I think, for I heard later that she was +deliberately driven past The Whispering Pines, though the other road +was more direct and less free, if anything, from possible spectators. +They thought, no doubt, that a sight of the place might reawaken +whatever memories remained of the last desperate scene preceding her +brother and sister’s departure for this out-of-the-way spot. They +little knew how cruel was the test, or what a storm of realisation +might have overwhelmed her mind as her eye fell on those accursed +walls, peering from their bower of snow-laden, pines. But I did, and I +never rested till I learned how she had borne herself in her slow drive +by the two guarded gateways: merrily, it seems, and with no sign of the +remembrances I feared. The test, if it were meant for such, availed +them nothing; no more, indeed, than an encounter with her on the road, +or at the station would have availed me. For the veil she begged for +had shrouded her features completely, and it was only from her manner +that those who accompanied her, perceived her light-heartedness and +delight in this change. + +One sentence, and one only, reached my ears of all she said before she +disappeared from town. + +“If Adelaide were only going, too! But I suppose I shall meet her and +Mr. Ranelagh somewhere before my return. She must be very happy. But +not so peaceful as I am. She will see that when we meet. I can hardly +wait for the day.” + +Words which set me thinking; but which I was bound to acknowledge +could be only the idle maunderings of a diseased mind from which all +impressions had fled, save those of innocence and futile hope. + +One incident more before I enter upon the serious business of the +trial. I had no purpose in what I did. I merely followed the impulse +of the moment, as I had so often done before in my selfish and +thoughtless life, when I started one night for my walk at ten o’clock +instead of twelve. I went the old way; and the old longing recurring +at the one charmed spot on the road, I cast a quick look at the +towering sycamore and the desolated house beneath, which, short as it +was, roused feelings which kept my head lowered for the remainder of +my walk north and to the very moment, when, on my return, the same +chimneys and overhanging roofs came again into view through the wintry +branches. Then habit lifted my head, and I paused to look again, when +the low sound of a human voice, suppressed into a moan or sob, caused +me to glance about for the woman or child who had uttered this note +of sorrow. No one was in sight; but as I started to move on, I heard +my name uttered in choked tones from behind the hedge separating the +Fulton grounds from the city sidewalk. + +I halted instantly. A lamp from the opposite side of the street threw +a broad illumination across the walk where I stood, but the gate-posts +behind threw a shadow. Had the voice issued from this isolated point of +darkness? I went back to see. A pitiful figure was crouching there, a +frail, agitated little being, whom I had no sooner recognised than my +manner instantly assumed an air of friendly interest, called out by her +timid and appealing attitude. + +“Ella Fulton!” I exclaimed. “You wish to speak to me?” + +“Hush!” she prayed, with a frightened gesture towards the house. “No +one knows I am here. Mamma thinks me in bed, and papa, who is out, may +come home any minute. Oh, Mr. Ranelagh, I’m in such misery and no one +but you can give me any help. I have watched you go by night after +night, and I have wanted to call out and beg you to come in and see me, +or let me go and meet you somewhere, and I have not dared, it was so +late. To-night you have come earlier, and I have slipped out and--O, +Elwood, you won’t think badly of me? It’s all about Arthur, and I shall +die if some one does not help me and tell me how I can reach him with a +message.” + +As she spoke the last words, she caught at the gatepost which was too +broad and ponderous to offer her any hold. Gravely I held out my arm, +which she took; we were old friends and felt no necessity of standing +on any sort of ceremony. + +“You don’t wish to bother,” was her sensitive cry. “You had rather not +stop; rather not listen to my troubles.” + +Had I shown my feelings so plainly as that? I felt mortified. She was a +girl of puny physique and nervous manner--the last sort of person you +would expect Arthur Cumberland to admire or even to have patience with, +and the very last sort who could be expected to endure his rough ways, +or find anything congenial to herself in his dissipated and purposeless +life. But the freaks of youthful passion are endless, and it was +evident that they loved each other sincerely. + +Her tremulous condition and meek complaint went to my heart, +notwithstanding my growing dread of any conversation between us on this +all-absorbing but equally peace-destroying topic. Reassuringly pressing +her hand, I was startled to find a small piece of paper clutched +convulsively within it. + +“For Arthur,” she explained under her breath. “I thought you might find +some way of getting it to him. Father and mother are so prejudiced. +They have never liked him, and now they believe the very worst. They +would lock me up if they knew I was speaking to you about him. Mother +is very stern and says that all this nonsense between Arthur and +myself must stop. That we must never--no matter whether he is cleared +or--or--” Silence, then a little gasp, after which she added with an +emphasis which bespoke the death of every hope: “She is very decided +about it, Elwood.” + +I hardly blamed the mother. + +“I--I love Arthur. I don’t think him guilty and I would gladly stand by +him if they would let me. I want him to know this. I want him to get +such comfort as he can out of my belief and my desire to serve him. +I want to sacrifice myself. But I can’t, I can’t,” she moaned. “You +don’t know how mother frightens me. When she looks at me, the words +falter on my tongue and I feel as if it would be easier to die than to +acknowledge what is in my heart.” + +I could believe her. Mrs. Fulton was a notable woman, whom many men +shrank from encountering needlessly. It was not her tongue, though +that could be bitter enough, but a certain way she had of infusing her +displeasure into attitude, tone, and manner, which insensibly sapped +your self-confidence and forced you to accept her bad opinion of you as +your rightful due. This, whether your judgment coincided with hers or +not. + +“Yet your mother is your very best friend,” I ventured gently, with +a realisation of my responsibility which did not add much to my +self-possession. + +She seemed startled. + +“Not in this, not in this,” she objected, with a renewal of her anxious +glances, this time up and down the street. “I must get a word to +Arthur. I _must_.” + +I saw that she had some deeper reason than appeared, for desiring +communication with him. I was debating how best to meet the situation +and set her right as to my ability to serve her, without breaking down +her spirit too seriously, when I felt her feverish hand pressing her +little note into my unwilling palm. + +“Don’t read it,” she whispered, innocent of all offence and only +anxious to secure my good offices. “It’s for Arthur. I’ve used the +thinnest paper, so that you can secrete it in something he will be sure +to get. Don’t disappoint me. I was sorry for you, too, and glad when +they let you out. Both of you are old playmates of mine, but Arthur--” + +I had to tell her; I had to dash her small hopes to the ground. + +“Forgive me, Ella,” I said, “but I cannot carry him this message or +even get it to him secretly. I am watched myself; I know it, though I +have never really detected the man doing it.” + +“Oh!” she ejaculated, terror-stricken at once. “Is there any one here, +behind these trees or in the street on the other side of the hedge-row?” + +I hastened to reassure her. + +“No, no. If I’ve been followed, it was not so near as that. I cannot do +what you ask for several reasons. Arthur will credit you with the best +of impulses without your incurring any such risk.” + +“Yes, yes, but that’s not enough. What shall I do? What shall I do?” + +I strove to help her. + +“There is a man,” said I, “who sees him constantly and may be induced +to assure Arthur of your belief and continued interest in him. That man +is his lawyer, Mr. Moffat. Any one will tell you how to reach him.” + +“No, no,” she disclaimed, hurriedly, breathlessly. “My last hope was in +you. You wouldn’t think the worse of me for--for what I’ve done; or let +mother know. I couldn’t tell a stranger even if he went right to Arthur +with it. I’m not made that way. I couldn’t stand the shame.” Drawing +back a step she wrung her small hands together, exclaiming, “What an +unhappy girl I am!” Then stepping up to my side, she whispered in my +ear: “There is something I could say which might--” + +I stopped her. Right or wrong, I stopped her. I hadn’t the courage just +then to face the possibilities of what lay at the end of this simple +sentence. She possessed evidence, or thought she did, which might help +to clear Arthur. Evidence of what? Evidence which would implicate +Carmel? The very thought unnerved me. + +“I had rather not be the recipient of this confidence if it is at +all important or at all in the line of testimony. Remember the man I +mentioned. He will be glad to hear of anything helpful to his client.” + +Her distress mounted to passion. + +“It’s--it’s something that will destroy my mother’s confidence in me. +I disobeyed her. I did what she would never have let me do if she had +known. I--I used to meet Arthur in the driveway back by the barns. I +had a key made to the little side door so that I could do it. I used +to meet him late. I would get up out of bed when mother was asleep, +and dress myself and sit at the window until I heard him come up +the street. Then I would steal down and catch him on his way to the +stables. I--I had a good reason for this, Elwood. He knew I would be +there, and it brought him home earlier and not quite so--so full of +liquor. If he was very bad, he would come up the other way and I would +sit waiting and crying till three o’clock struck, then creep into my +bed and try to sleep. Nights and nights I have done this. Nothing else +in life seemed so important, for it did hold him back a little. But not +so much as if he had loved me more. He loved me some, but he couldn’t +have loved me very much, or he would have sent me some word, or seen +me, if but for a minute, since Adelaide’s death. And he hasn’t, he +hasn’t! and that makes it harder for me to acknowledge the watch I kept +on him, and how I know he never went through our grounds for the second +time that night. He went once, about nine, but not later. I am certain +of this, for I was looking out for him till three in the morning. If he +came back and then returned afterwards to town, it was through his own +street, and that takes so long, he would never have been able to get +to the place they said he did at the time they have agreed upon. Oh! I +have studied every word of the case, to see if what I had to tell would +help him any. Father cannot bear to see me with a newspaper in my hand, +and mother comes and takes them out of my room; but I have managed to +read every word since they accused him of being at the club-house that +night, and I know that he needs some one to come out boldly in his +cause, and I want to be that some one, and I will be, too, whatever +happens to me, if--if I must,” she faintly added. + +I was dumb, but not from lack of interest, God knows, or from +unsympathetic feeling for this brave-hearted girl. The significance +of the situation was what held me speechless. Here was help for +Arthur without my braving all the horrors of Carmel’s downfall by any +impulsive act of my own. For a moment, hope in one burning and renewing +flame soared high in my breast. I was willing to accept my release +in this way. I was willing to shift the load from my own back to the +delicate shoulders of this shrinking but ardent girl. Then reason +returned, if consideration halted, and I asked myself: “But is the +help she offers of any practical worth? Would her timid declarations, +trembling as she was between her awe of her parents and her desire to +serve the man she loved, weigh in the balance against the evidence +accumulated by the district attorney?” + +It seemed doubtful. She would not be believed, and I should have to +back up her statement with my own hitherto suppressed testimony. It +was a hard case, any way I looked at it. A woman to be sacrificed +whichever course I took. Contemplating the tremulous, half-fainting +figure drooping in the shadows before me, such native chivalry as +remained to me, urged me to spare this little friend of mine, so +ungifted by nature, so innocent in intention, so sensitive and so +shrinking in temperament and habit. Then Carmel’s image rose before +me, glorious, impassioned, driven by the fierce onrush of some mighty +inherent force into violent deeds undreamed of by most women; but when +thus undriven, gentle in manner, elevated in thought, refined as only +a few rare characters are refined; and my heart stood still again +with doubt, and I could not say: “It is your duty to save him at all +hazards. Brave your father, brave your mother, brave public opinion and +possibly the wrecking of your whole future, but tell the truth, and rid +your days of doubt, your nights of remorse.” I could not say this. So +many things might happen to save Arthur, to save Carmel, to save the +little woman before me. I would trust that future, temporise a bit and +give such advice as would relieve us both from immediate fear without +compromising Arthur’s undoubted rights to justice. + +Meanwhile, Ella Fulton had become distracted by new fears. The sound +of sleigh-bells could be heard on the hill. It might be her father. +Should she try to reach the house, or hide her small body, like a +trapped animal’s, on the dark side of the hedge? I was conscious of her +thoughts, shared her uncertainties, notwithstanding the struggle then +going on in my own mind. But I remained quiet and so did she, and the +sleigh ultimately flew past us up the road. The sigh which broke from +her lips as this terror subsided, brought my disordered thoughts to a +focus. I must not keep her longer. Something must be said at once. As +soon as she looked my way again, I spoke: + +“Ella, this is no easy problem you have offered me. You are right in +thinking that this testimony of yours might be of benefit to Arthur, +and that you ought to give it in case of extremity. But I cannot advise +you to obtrude it yet. I understand what it would cost you, and the +sacrifice you would make is too great for the doubtful good which might +follow. Neither must you trust me to act for you in this matter. My +own position is too unstable for me to be of assistance to any one. +I can sympathise with you, possibly as no one else can; but I cannot +reach Arthur, either by word or by message. Your father is the man to +appeal to in case interference becomes necessary and you must speak. +You have not quite the same fear of him that you have of your mother. +Take him into your confidence--not now but later when things press and +you must have a friend. He’s a just man. You may shock his fatherly +susceptibilities, you may even lose some of his regard, but he will do +the right thing by you and Arthur. Have confidence that this is so, and +rest, little friend, in the hope and help it gives you. Will you?” + +“I will try. I could only tell father on my knees, but I will do it +if--if I must,” she faltered out, unconsciously repeating her former +phrase. “Now, I must go. You have been good; only I asked too much.” +And with no other farewell she left me and disappeared up the walk. + +I lingered till I heard the faint click of her key in the door she had +secretly made her own; then I moved on. As I did so, I heard a rustle +somewhere about me on street or lawn. I never knew whence it came, +but I felt assured that neither her fears nor mine had been quite +unfounded; that a listener had been posted somewhere near us and that +a part, if not all, we had said had been overheard. I was furious for +an instant, then the soothing thought came that possibly Providence had +ordained that the Gordian knot should be cut in just this way. + +But the event bore no ostensible fruit. The week ended, and the case of +the People _against_ Arthur Cumberland was moved for trial. + + + + +XXIV + +ALL THIS STOOD + +It’s fit this royal session do proceed; +And that, without delay, their arguments +Be now produc’d and heard + +_King Henry VIII_. + + +There was difficulty, as you will conceive, in selecting an +unprejudiced jury. But this once having been accomplished, the case +went quickly and smoothly on under the able guidance of the prosecuting +attorney. + +I shall spare you the opening details, also much of the preliminary +testimony. Enough that at the close of the sixth day, the outlook was +a serious one for Arthur Cumberland. The prosecution appeared to be +making good its claims. The quiet and unexpectedly dignified way in +which, at the beginning, the defendant had faced the whole antagonistic +court-room, with the simple plea of “Not Guilty,” was being slowly but +surely forgotten in the accumulated proofs of his discontented life +under his sister’s dominating influence, his desire for independence +and a free use of the money held in trust for him by this sister +under their father’s will, the quarrels which such a situation would +naturally evoke between characters cast in such different moulds +and actuated by such opposing tastes and principles, and the final +culmination of the same at the dinner-table when Adelaide forced him, +as it were, to subscribe to her prohibition of all further use of +liquor in their house. Following this evidence of motive, came the +still more damaging one of opportunity. He was shown to have been in +the club-house at or near the time of Adelaide’s death. The matter of +the bottles was gone into and the event in Cuthbert Road. Then I was +called to the stand, and my testimony asked for. + +I had prepared myself for the ordeal and faced it unflinchingly. That +I might keep intact the one point necessary to Carmel’s safety, I met +my inquisitors, now as before, with the utmost candour in all other +respects. Indeed, in one particular I was even more exact in my details +than at any previous examination. Anxious to explain my agitated and +hesitating advance through the club-house, prior to my discovery of +the crime which had been committed there, I acknowledged what I had +hitherto concealed, that in my first entrance into the building, I had +come upon a man’s derby hat and coat hanging in the lower hall, and +when questioned more minutely on the subject, allowed it to appear that +it was owing to the disappearance of these articles during my stay +upstairs, that I had been led into saying that some one had driven away +from The Whispering Pines before the coming of the police. + +This, as you will see, was in open contradiction of my former +statements that I had _seen_ an unknown party, thus attired, driving +away through the upper gateway just as I entered by the lower. But it +was a contradiction which while noted by Mr. Moffat, failed to injure +me with the jury, and much less with the spectators. The impression +had become so firmly fixed in the public mind and in that of certain +officials as well, that my early hesitations and misstatements were +owing to a brotherly anxiety to distract attention from Arthur whose +clothing they believed me to have recognised in these articles I +have mentioned--that I rather gained than lost by what, under other +circumstances would have seriously damaged my testimony. That I should +prevaricate even to my own detriment, at a preliminary examination, +only to tell the truth openly and like a man when in court and under +the sanctity of an oath was, in the popular estimation, something to my +credit; and Mr. Moffat, whose chief recommendation as counsel lay in +his quick appreciation of the exigencies of the moment, did not press +me too sharply on this point when he came to his cross-examination. + +But in other respects he drove me hard. An effort was made by him, +first of all, to discredit me as a witness. My lack of appreciation for +Adelaide and my secret but absorbing love for Carmel were inexorably +brought out: also the easy, happy-go-lucky tenor of my life, and +my dogged persistence in any course I thought consistent with my +happiness. My character was well known in this town of my birth, and +it would have been folly for me to attempt to gloss it over. I had not +even the desire to do so. If my sins exacted penance, I would pay it +here and now and to the full. Only Carmel should not suffer. I refused +to admit that she had given any evidences of returning my reckless +passion. My tongue would not speak the necessary words, and it was +not made to. It was not her character but mine which Mr. Moffat was +endeavouring to assail. + +But though I was thus shown up for what I was, in a manner most public +and undesirable, neither the rulings of the court, nor the attitude of +the jury betrayed any loss of confidence in me as a credible witness, +and seeing this, the wily lawyer shifted his ground and confined +himself to an endeavour to shake me on certain definite and important +points. How were the pillows heaped upon the couch? What ones at top, +what ones at bottom? Which did I remove first, and why did I remove any +of them? What had I expected to find? These questions answered, the +still more-to-be-dreaded ones followed of just how my betrothed looked +at the moment I uncovered her face. Were the marks very plain upon her +throat? How plain; and what did I mean by saying that I felt forced to +lay my thumbs upon them? Was that a natural thing to do? Where was the +candle at that moment? How many feet away? A candle does not give much +light at that distance, was I sure that I saw those marks immediately; +that they were dark enough and visible enough to draw my eyes from her +face which would naturally attract my gaze first? It was horrible, +devilish, but I won through, only to meet the still more disturbing +question as to whether I saw any other evidences of strangulation +besides the marks. I could only mention the appearance of the eyes; +and when Mr. Moffat found that he could not shake me on this point, +he branched off into a less harrowing topic and cross-examined me in +regard to the ring. I had said that it was on her hand when I bade +good-bye to her in her own house, and that it was not there when I came +upon her dead. Had the fact made me curious to examine her hand? No. +Then I could not tell whether the finger on which she wore it gave any +evidence of this ring having been pulled off with violence? No. I could +not swear that in my opinion it was? I could not. + +The small flask of cordial and the three glasses, one clean and the +others showing signs of having been used, were next taken up, but +with no result for the defence. I had told all I knew about these in +my direct examination; also about such matters as the bottles found +on the kitchen table, the leaving of my keys at the Cumberland house, +and the fact, well known, that the two bottles of wine left in the +wine-vault and tabulated by the steward as so left in the list found +in my apartments, were of an exclusive brand unlikely to be found +anywhere else in town. I could add nothing more, and, having spoken the +exact truth concerning them, from the very first, I ran no chance of +contradicting myself even under the close fire of the opposing counsel. + +But there was a matter I dreaded to see him approach, and, which, I was +equally sure, with an insight unshared I believe by any one else in the +whole courtroom, was equally dreaded by the prisoner. + +This was the presence in the club-house chimney of the half-burned +letter I had long ago been compelled, in my own defence, to acknowledge +having written to the victim’s young sister, Carmel Cumberland. As I +saw District Attorney Fox about to enter upon this topic, I gathered +myself together to meet the onslaught, for in this matter I could not +be strictly truthful, since the least slip on my part might awaken the +whole world to the fact that it could only have come there through the +agency of Carmel herself. + +What Mr. Moffat thought of it--what he hoped to prove in the prisoner’s +behalf by raking this subject over--it was left for me to discover +later. The prisoner was an innocent man, in his eyes. I was not; and, +while the time had not come for him to make this openly apparent, he +was not above showing even now that the case contained a factor which +weakened the prosecution--a factor totally dissociated with the openly +accepted theory that the crime was simply the result of personal +cupidity and drunken spite. + +And in this he was right. It did weaken it--weakened it to the point +of collapse, if the counsel for the defence had fully acted up to his +opportunity. But something withheld him. Just at the moment when I +feared the truth must come out, he hesitated and veered gradually away +from this subject. In his nervous pacings to and fro before the witness +stand, his eye had rested for a moment on Arthur’s, and with this +result. The situation was saved, but at a great loss to the defendant. + +I began to cherish softened feelings towards Arthur Cumberland, from +this moment. Was it then, or later, that he began in his turn to +cherish new and less hostile feelings towards myself? He had hated me +and vowed my death if I escaped the fate he could now dimly see opening +out before himself; yet I could see that he was glad to see me slip +from my tormentor’s hands with my story unimpeached, and that he drew +his breath more deeply and with much more evidence of freedom, now that +my testimony had been thoroughly sifted and nothing had come to light +implicating Carmel. I even thought I caught a kindly gleam in his eye +as it met mine at this critical juncture, and by its light I understood +my man and what he hoped from me. He wished me at any risk to himself, +to unite with him in saving Carmel’s good name. That I should accede +to this; that I should respect his generous wishes and let him go to +unmerited destruction for even so imperative an obligation as we both +lay under, was a question for the morrow. I could not decide upon it +to-day--not while the smallest hope remained that he would yet escape +conviction by other means than the one which would wreck the life we +were both intent on saving. + +Several short examinations followed mine, all telling in their nature, +all calculated to fix in the minds of the jury the following facts: + +(Pray pardon the repetition. It is necessary to present the case to you +just as it stood at this period of my greatest struggle.) + +1.--That Arthur, swayed by cupidity and moved to rage by the scene at +the dinner-table, had, by some unknown means of a more or less violent +character, prevailed upon Adelaide to accompany him to The Whispering +Pines, in the small cutter, to which, in the absence of every servant +about the place, he himself had harnessed the grey mare. + +2.--That in preparation for this visit to a spot remote from +observation and closed against all visitors, they, still for some +unknown reason, had carried between them a candlestick and candle, a +flask of cordial, three glasses, and a small bottle marked “Poison”; +also some papers, letters, or scraps of correspondence, among them the +compromising line I had written to Carmel. + +3.--That, while in this building, at an hour not yet settled, a second +altercation had arisen between them, or some attempt been made by +the brother which had alarmed Adelaide and sent her flying to the +telephone, in great agitation, with an appeal to the police for help. +This telephone was in a front room and the jury was led to judge +that she had gained access to it while her companion ransacked the +wine-vault and brought the six bottles of spirit up from the cellar. + +4.--That her outcry had alarmed the prisoner in his turn, causing him +to leave most of the bottles below, and hasten up to the room, where he +completed the deed with which he had previously threatened her. + +5.--That poison having failed, he resorted to strangulation; after +which--or before--came the robbery of her ring, the piling up of the +cushions over the body in a vain endeavour to hide the deed, or to +prolong the search for the victim. Then the departure--the locking of +the front door behind the perpetrator; the flight of the grey horse and +cutter through the blinding storm; the blowing off of the driver’s hat; +the identification of the same by means of the flour-mark left on its +brim by the mechanic’s wife; the presence of a portion of one of the +two abstracted bottles in the stable where the horse was put up; and +the appearance of Arthur with the other bottle at the door of the inn +in Cuthbert Road, just as the clock was striking half-past eleven. + +This latter fact might have been regarded as proving an alibi, owing +to the length of road between the Cumberland house and the place just +mentioned, if there had not been a short cut to town open to him by +means of a door in the wall separating the Cumberland and Fulton +grounds--a door which was found unlocked, and with the key in it, by +Zadok Brown, the coachman, when he came home about three next morning. + +All this stood; not an item of this testimony could be shaken. Most of +it was true; some of it false; but what was false, so unassailable by +any ordinary means, that, as I have already said, the clouds seemed +settling heavily over Arthur Cumberland when, at the end of the sixth +day, the proceedings closed. + +The night that followed was a heavy one for me. Then came the fateful +morrow, and, after that, the day of days destined to make a life-long +impression on all who attended this trial. + + + + +XXV + +“I AM INNOCENT” + +All is oblique, +There’s nothing level in our cursed natures, +But direct villainy. Therefore, be abhorred +All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! +His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains. + +_Timon of Athens_. + + +I was early in my seat. Feeling the momentousness of the occasion--for +this day must decide my action for or against the prisoner--I searched +the faces of the jury, of the several counsel, and of the judge. I was +anxious to know what I had to expect from them, in case my conscience +got the better of my devotion to Carmel’s interests and led me into +that declaration of the real facts which was forever faltering on my +tongue, without having, as yet, received the final impetus which could +only end in speech. + +To give him his rightful precedence, the judge showed an impenetrable +countenance but little changed from that with which he had faced +us all from the start. He, like most of the men involved in these +proceedings, had been a close friend of the prisoner’s father, and, in +his capacity of judge in this momentous trial, had had to contend with +his personal predilections, possibly with concealed sympathies, if not +with equally well-concealed prejudices. This had lent to his aspect a +sternness never observable in it before; but no man, even the captious +Mr. Moffat, had seriously questioned his rulings; and, whatever the +cost to himself, he had, up to this time, held the scales of justice so +evenly that it would have taken an audacious mind to have ventured on +an interpretation of his real attitude or mental leaning in this case. + +From this imposing presence, nobly sustained by a well-proportioned +figure and a head and face indicative of intellect and every kindly +attribute, I turned to gaze upon Mr. Fox and his colleagues. One spirit +seemed to animate them--confidence in their case, and unqualified +satisfaction at its present status. + +I was conscious of a certain ironic impulse to smile, as I noted the +eager whisper and the bustle of preparation with which they settled +upon their next witness and prepared to open their batteries upon him. +How easily I could call down that high look, and into what a turmoil I +could throw them all by an ingenuous demand to be recalled to the stand! + +But the psychological moment had not yet come, and I subdued the +momentary impulse and proceeded with my scrutiny of the people about +me. The jury looked tired, with the exception of one especially alert +little man who drank in even the most uninteresting details with +avidity. But they all had good faces, and none could doubt their +interest, or that they were fully alive to the significance of the +occasion. + +Mr. Moffat, leading counsel for the defendant, was a spare man of +unusual height, modified a little, and only a little, by the forward +droop of his shoulders. Nervous in manner, quick, short, sometimes +rasping in speech, he had the changeful eye and mobile expression of +a very sensitive nature; and from him, if from any one, I might hope +to learn how much or how little Arthur had to fear from the day’s +proceedings. But Mr. Moffat’s countenance was not as readable as usual. +He looked preoccupied--a strange thing for him; and, instead of keeping +his eye on the witness, as was his habitual practice, he allowed it +to wander over the sea of heads before him, with a curious expectant +interest which aroused my own curiosity, and led me to hunt about for +its cause. + +My first glance was unproductive. I saw only the usual public, such as +had confronted us the whole week, with curious and increasing interest. +But as I searched further, I discerned in an inconspicuous corner, the +bowed head, veiled almost beyond recognition, of Ella Fulton. It was +her first appearance in court. Each day I had anticipated her presence, +and each day I had failed to see my anticipations realised. But she +was here now, and so were her father and her cold and dominating +mother; and, beholding her thus accompanied, I fancied I understood Mr. +Moffat’s poorly concealed excitement. But another glance at Mrs. Fulton +assured me that I was mistaken in this hasty surmise. No such serious +purpose, as I feared, lay back of their presence here to-day. Curiosity +alone explained it; and as I realised what this meant, and how little +understanding it betokened of the fierce struggle then going on in the +timid breast of their distracted child, a sickening sense of my own +responsibility drove Carmel’s beauty, and Carmel’s claims temporarily +from my mind, and following the direction of Ella’s thoughts, if not +her glances, I sought in the face of the prisoner a recognition of her +presence, if not of the promise this presence brought him. + +His eye had just fallen on her. I was assured of this by the sudden +softening of his expression--the first real softening I had ever seen +in it. It was but a momentary flash, but it was unmistakable in its +character, as was his speedy return to his former stolidity. Whatever +his thoughts were at sight of his little sweetheart, he meant to hide +them even from his counsel--most of all from his counsel, I decided +after further contemplation of them both. If Mr. Moffat still showed +nervousness, it was for some other reason than anxiety about this +little body hiding from sight behind the proudly held figures of father +and mother. + +The opening testimony of the day, while not vital, was favourable to +the prosecution in that it showed Arthur’s conduct since the murder +to have been inconsistent with perfect innocence. His belated return +at noon the next day, raging against the man who had been found in +an incriminating position on the scene of crime, while at the same +time failing to betray his own presence there till driven to it by +accumulating circumstances and the persistent inquiries of the police; +the care he took to avoid drink, though constant tippling was habitual +to him and formed the great cause of quarrel between himself and the +murdered Adelaide; his haunting of Carmel’s door and anxious listening +for any words she might let fall in her delirium; the suspicion which +he constantly betrayed of the nurse when for any reason he was led to +conclude that she had heard something which he had not; his behaviour +at the funeral and finally his action in demanding to have the +casket-lid removed that he might look again at the face he had made no +effort to gaze upon when opportunity offered and time and place were +seemly: these facts and many more were brought forward in grim array +against the prisoner, with but little opposition from his counsel and +small betrayal of feeling on the part of Arthur himself. His stolid +face had remained stolid even when the ring which had fallen out of his +sister’s casket was shown to the jury and the connection made between +its presence there and the intrusion of his hand into the same, on +the occasion above mentioned. This once thoughtless, pleasure-loving, +and hopelessly dissipated boy had not miscalculated his nerve. It +was sufficient for an ordeal which might have tried the courage and +self-possession of the most hardened criminal. + +Then came the great event of the day, in anticipation of which the +court-room had been packed, and every heart within it awakened by slow +degrees to a state of great nervous expectancy. The prosecution rested +and the junior counsel for the defence opened his case to the jury. + +If I had hoped for any startling disclosure, calculated to establish +his client’s alleged alibi, or otherwise to free the same from the +definite charge of murder, I had reason to be greatly disappointed by +this maiden effort of a young and inexperienced lawyer. If not exactly +weak, there was an unexpected vagueness in its statements which seemed +quite out of keeping with the emphatic declaration which he made of the +prisoner’s innocence. + +Even Arthur was sensible of the bad effect made by this preliminary +address. More than once during its delivery and notably at its +conclusion, he turned to Mr. Moffat, with a bitter remark, which was +not without effect on that gentleman’s cheek, and at once called forth +a retort stinging enough to cause Arthur to sink back into his place, +with the first sign of restlessness I had observed in him. + +“Moffat is sly. Moffat has something up his sleeve. I will wait till +he sees fit to show it,” was my thought; then, as I caught a wild and +pleading look from Ella, I added in positive assertion to myself, “And +so must she.” + +Answering her unspoken appeal with an admonitory shake of the head, +I carelessly let my fingers rest upon my mouth until I saw that she +understood me and was prepared to follow my lead for a little while +longer. + +My satisfaction at this was curtailed by the calling of Arthur +Cumberland to the stand to witness in his own defence. + +I had dreaded this contingency. I saw that for some reason, both his +counsel and associate counsel, were not without their own misgivings as +to the result of their somewhat doubtful experiment. + +A change was observable in this degenerate son of the Cumberlands since +many there had confronted him face to face. Physically he was improved. +Enough time had elapsed since his sudden dropping of old habits, for +him to have risen above its first effects and to have acquired that +tone of personal dignity which follows a successful issue to any moral +conflict. But otherwise the difference was such as to arouse doubt as +to the real man lurking behind his dogged, uncommunicative manner. + +Even with the knowledge of his motives which I believed myself to +possess, I was at a loss to understand his indifference to self and the +immobility of manner he maintained under all circumstances and during +every fluctuation which took place in the presentation of his case, or +in the temper of the people surrounding him. I felt that beyond the +one fact that he could be relied upon to protect Carmel’s name and +Carmel’s character, even to the jeopardising of his case, he was not +to be counted on, and might yet startle many of us, and most notably +of all, the little woman waiting to hear what he had to say in his own +defence before she threw herself into the breach and made that devoted +attempt to save him, in his own despite, which had been my terror from +the first and was my terror now. + +Perjury! but not in his own defence--rather in opposition to it--that +is what his counsel had to fear; and I wondered if they knew it. +My attention became absorbed in the puzzle. Carmel’s fate, if not +Ella’s--and certainly my own--hung upon the issue. This I knew, and +this I faced, calmly, but very surely, as, the preliminary questions +having been answered, Mr. Moffat proceeded. + +The witness’s name having been demanded and given and some other +preliminary formalities gone through, he was asked: + +“Mr. Cumberland, did you have any quarrel with your sister during the +afternoon or evening of December the second?” + +“I did.” Then, as if not satisfied with this simple statement, he +blurted forth: “And it wasn’t the first. I hated the discipline she +imposed upon me, and the disapproval she showed of my ways and the +manner in which I chose to spend my money.” + +A straightforward expression of feeling, but hardly a judicious one. + +Judge Edwards glanced, in some surprise, from Mr. Moffat to the daring +man who could choose thus to usher in his defence; and then, forgetting +his own emotions, in his instinctive desire for order, rapped sharply +with his gavel in correction of the audible expression of a like +feeling on the part of the expectant audience. + +Mr. Moffat, apparently unaffected by this result of his daring move, +pursued his course, with the quiet determination of one who sees his +goal and is working deliberately towards it. + +“Do you mind particularising? Of what did she especially disapprove in +your conduct or way of spending money?” + +“She disapproved of my fondness for drink. She didn’t like my late +hours, or the condition in which I frequently came home. I did not like +her expressions of displeasure, or the way she frequently cut me short +when I wanted to have a good time with my friends. We never agreed. I +made her suffer often and unnecessarily. I regret it now; she was a +better sister to me than I could then understand.” + +This was uttered slowly and with a quiet emphasis which reawakened that +excited hum the judge had been at such pains to quell a moment before. +But he did not quell it now; he seemed to have forgotten his duty in +the strong interest called up by these admissions from the tongue of +the most imperturbable prisoner he had had before him in years. + +Mr. Moffat, with an eye on District Attorney Fox, who had shown his +surprise at the trend the examination was taking by a slight indication +of uneasiness, grateful enough, no doubt, to the daring counsellor, +went on with his examination: + +“Mr. Cumberland, will you tell us when you first felt this change of +opinion in regard to your sister?” + +Mr. Fox leaped to his feet. Then he slowly reseated himself. Evidently +he thought it best to let the prisoner have his full say. Possibly he +may have regretted his leniency the next moment when, with a solemn +lowering of his head, Arthur answered: + +“When I saw my home desolated in one dreadful night. With one sister +dead in the house, the victim of violence, and another delirious from +fright or some other analogous cause, I had ample time to think--and I +used that time. That’s all.” + +Simple words, read or repeated; but in that crowded court-room, with +every ear strained to catch the lie which seemed the only refuge for +the man so hemmed in by circumstance, these words, uttered without the +least attempt at effect, fell with a force which gave new life to such +as wished to see this man acquitted. + +His counsel, as if anxious to take advantage of this very expectation +to heighten the effect of what followed, proceeded immediately to +inquire: + +“When did you see your sister Adelaide for the last time alive?” + +A searching question. What would be his reply? + +A very quiet one. + +“That night at the dinner-table. When I left the room, I turned to +look at her. She was not looking at me; so I slammed the door and went +upstairs. In an hour or so, I had left the house to get a drink. I got +the drink, but I never saw Adelaide again till I saw her in her coffin.” + +This blunt denial of the crime for which he stood there arraigned, fell +on my heart with a weight which showed me how inextinguishable is the +hope we cherish deep down under all surface convictions. I had been +unconscious of this hope, but it was there. It seemed to die a double +death at these words. For I believed him! Courage is needed for a lie. +There were no signs visible in him, as yet, of his having drawn upon +this last resource of the despairing. I should know it when he did; he +could not hide the subtle change from me. + +To others, this declaration came with greater or less force, according +as it was viewed in the light of a dramatic trick of Mr. Moffat’s, or +as the natural outburst of a man fighting for his life in his own way +and with his own weapons. I could not catch the eye of Ella cowering +low in her seat, so could not judge what tender chords had been struck +in her sensitive breast by these two assertions so dramatically offset +against each other--the one, his antagonism to the dead; the other, his +freedom from the crime in which that antagonism was supposed to have +culminated. + +Mr. Moffat, satisfied so far, put his next question with equal +directness: + +“Mr. Cumberland, you have mentioned seeing your sister in her coffin. +When was this?” + +“At the close of her funeral, just before she was carried out.” + +“Was that the first and only time you had seen her so placed?” + +“It was.” + +“Had you seen the casket itself prior to this moment of which you +speak?” + +“I had not.” + +“Had you been near it? Had you handled it in any way?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Mr. Cumberland, you have heard mention made of a ring worn by your +sister in life, but missing from her finger after death?” + +“I have.” + +“You remember this ring?” + +“I do.” + +“Is this it?” + +“It is, so far as I can judge at this distance.” + +“Hand the ring to the witness,” ordered the judge. + +The ring was so handed. + +He glanced at it, and said bitterly: “I recognise it. It was her +engagement ring.” + +“Was this ring on her finger that night at the dinner-table?” + +“I cannot say, positively, but I believe so. I should have noticed its +absence.” + +“Why, may I ask?” + +For the first time the prisoner flushed and the look he darted at his +counsel had the sting of a reproach in it. Yet he answered: “It was +the token of an engagement I didn’t believe in or like. I should have +hailed any proof that this engagement was off.” + +Mr. Moffat smiled enigmatically. + +“Mr. Cumberland, if you are not sure of having seen this ring then, +when did you see it and where?” + +A rustle from end to end of that crowded court-room. This was an +audacious move. What was coming? What would be the answer of the man +who was believed not only to have made himself the possessor of this +ring, but to have taken a most strange and uncanny method of disposing +of it afterward? In the breathless hush which followed this first +involuntary expression of feeling, Arthur’s voice rose, harsh but +steady in this reply: + +“I saw it when the police showed it to me, and asked me if I could +identify it.” + +“Was that the only time you have seen it up to the present moment?” + +Instinctively, the witness’s right hand rose; it was as if he were +mentally repeating his oath before he uttered coldly and with emphasis, +though without any show of emotion: + +“It is.” + +The universal silence gave way to a universal sigh of excitement and +relief. District Attorney Fox’s lips curled with an imperceptible +smile of disdain, which might have impressed the jury if they had been +looking his way; but they were all looking with eager and interested +eyes at the prisoner, who had just uttered this second distinct and +unequivocal denial. + +Mr. Moffat noted this, and his own lip curled, but with a very +different show of feeling from that which had animated his +distinguished opponent. Without waiting for the present sentiment to +cool, he proceeded immediately with his examination: + +“You swear that you have seen this ring but once since the night +of your sister’s death, and that was when it was shown you in the +coroner’s office?” + +“I do.” + +“Does this mean that it was not in your possession at any time during +that interim?” + +“It certainly does.” + +“Mr. Cumberland, more than one witness has testified to the fact of +your having been seen to place your hand in the casket of your sister, +before the eyes of the minister and of others attending her funeral. Is +this true?” + +“It is.” + +“Was not this a most unusual thing to do?” + +“Perhaps. I was not thinking about that. I had a duty to perform, and I +performed it.” + +“A duty? Will you explain to the jury what duty?” + +The witness’s head rose, then sank. He, as well as every one else, +seemed to be impressed by the solemnity of the moment. Though the +intensity of my own interest would not allow my eyes to wander from his +face, I could imagine the strained look in Ella’s, as she awaited his +words. + +They came in another instant, but with less steadiness than he had +shown before. I even thought I could detect a tremor in his muscles, as +well as in his voice: + +“I had rebelled against my sister’s wishes; I had grieved and deceived +her up to the very night of her foul and unnatural death--and all +through _drink_.” + +Here his eye flashed, and for that fleeting moment he looked a man. +“I wished to take an oath--an oath I would remember. It was for this +purpose I ordered the casket opened, and thrust my fingers through +the flowers I found there. When my fingers touched my sister’s brow, +I inwardly swore never to taste liquor again. I have kept that oath. +Difficult as it was, in my state of mind, and with all my troubles, I +have kept it--and been misunderstood in doing so,” he added, in lower +tones, and with just a touch of bitterness. + +It was such an unexpected explanation, and so calculated to cause a +decided and favourable reaction in the minds of those who had looked +upon this especial act of his as an irrefutable proof of guilt, that +it was but natural that some show of public feeling should follow. But +this was checked almost immediately, and Mr. Moffat’s voice was heard +rising again in his strange but telling examination: + +“When you thrust your hand in to take this oath, did you drop anything +into your sister’s casket?” + +“I did not. My hand was empty. I held no ring, and dropped none in. I +simply touched her forehead.” + +This added to the feeling; and, in another instant, the excitement +might have risen into hubbub, had not the emotions of one little woman +found vent in a low and sobbing cry which relieved the tension and gave +just the relief needed to hold in check the overstrained feelings of +the crowd. I knew the voice and cast one quick glance that way, in time +to see Ella sinking affrightedly out of sight under the dismayed looks +of father and mother; then, anxious to note whether the prisoner had +recognised her, too, looked hastily back to find him standing quietly +and unmoved, with his eyes on his counsel and his lips set in the stern +line which was slowly changing his expression. + +That counsel, strangely alive to the temper and feelings of his +audience, waited just long enough for the few simple and solemn words +uttered by the accused man to produce their full effect, then with a +side glance at Mr. Fox, whose equanimity he had at last succeeded in +disturbing, and whose cross-examination of the prisoner he had still +to fear, continued his own examination by demanding why, when the ring +was discovered in Adelaide’s casket and he saw what inferences would be +drawn from the fact, he had not made an immediate public explanation of +his conduct and the reasons he had had for putting his hand there. + +“I’m not a muff,” shot from the prisoner’s lips, in his old manner. “A +man who would take such an oath, in such a way, and at such a time, is +not the man to talk about it until he is forced to. I would not talk +about it now--” + +He was checked at this point; but the glimpse we thus obtained of +the natural man, in this indignant and sullen outburst, following so +quickly upon the solemn declarations of the moment before, did more for +him in the minds of those present than the suavest and most discreet +answer given under the instigation of his counsel. Every face showed +pleasure, and for a short space, if for no longer, all who listened +were disposed to accept his assertions and accord the benefit of doubt +to this wayward son of an esteemed father. + +To me, who had hoped nothing from Moffat’s efforts, the substantial +nature of the defence thus openly made manifest, brought reanimation +and an unexpected confidence in the future. + +The question as to who had dropped the ring into the casket if Arthur +had not--the innocent children, the grieving servants--was latent, of +course, in every breast, but it had not yet reached the point demanding +expression. + +Meanwhile, the examination proceeded. + +“Mr. Cumberland, you have stated that you did not personally drop this +ring into the place where it was ultimately found. Can you tell us of +your own knowledge who did?” + +“I cannot. I know nothing about the ring. I was much surprised, +probably more surprised than any one else, to hear of its discovery in +that place.” + +The slip--and it was a slip for him to introduce that _more_--was +immediately taken advantage of by his counsel. + +“You say ‘more,’ Why should it be more of a surprise to you than to any +one else to learn where this missing engagement ring of your sister’s +had been found?” + +Again that look of displeasure directed towards his questioner, and a +certain additional hardness in his reply, when he finally made it. + +“I was her brother. I had a brother’s antipathies and rightful +suspicions. I could not see how that ring came to be where it was, when +the only one interested in its restoration was in prison.” + +This was a direct blow at myself, and of course called Mr. Fox to his +feet, with a motion to strike out this answer. An altercation followed +between him and Mr. Moffat, which, deeply as it involved my life and +reputation, failed to impress me, as it might otherwise have done, if +my whole mind had not been engaged in reconciling the difficulty about +this ring with what I knew of Carmel and the probability which existed +of her having been responsible for its removal from her sister’s hand. +But Carmel had been ill since, desperately ill and unconscious. She +could have had nothing to do with its disposal afterwards among the +flowers at her sister’s funeral. Nor had she been in a condition to +delegate this act of concealment to another. Who, then, had been the +intermediary in this business? The question was no longer a latent one +in my mind; it was an insistent one, compelling me either to discredit +Arthur’s explanation (in which case anything might be believed of him) +or to accept for good and all this new theory that some person of +unknown identity had played an accessory’s part in this crime, whose +full burden I had hitherto laid upon the shoulders of the impetuous +Carmel. Either hypothesis brought light. I began to breathe again the +air of hope, and if observed at that moment, must have presented the +odd spectacle of a man rejoicing in his own shame and accepting with +positive uplift, the inevitable stigma cast upon his honour by the +suggestive sentence just hurled at him by an indignant witness. + +The point raised by the district attorney having been ruled upon +and sustained by the court, Mr. Moffat made no effort to carry his +inquiries any further in the direction indicated; but I could see, +with all my inexperience of the law and the ways of attorneys before a +jury, that the episode had produced its inevitable result, and that my +position, as a man released from suspicion, had received a shock, the +results of which I might yet be made to feel. + +A moment’s pause followed, during which some of Mr. Moffat’s +nervousness returned. He eyed the prisoner doubtfully, found him +stoical and as self-contained as at the beginning of his examination, +and plunged into a topic which most people had expected him to avoid. +I certainly had, and felt all the uncertainty and secret alarm which +an unexpected move occasions where the issue is momentous with life +or death. I was filled with terror, not for the man on trial, but for +my secret. Was it shared by the defence? Was Mr. Moffat armed with +the knowledge I thought confined to myself and Arthur? Had the latter +betrayed the cause I had been led to believe he was ready to risk +his life to defend? Had I mistaken his gratitude to myself; or had I +underrated Mr. Moffat’s insight or powers of persuasion? We had just +been made witness to one triumph on the part of this able lawyer in a +quarter deemed unassailable by the prosecution. Were we about to be +made witnesses of another? I felt the sweat start on my forehead, and +was only able to force myself into some show of self-possession by +the evident lack of perfect assurance with which this same lawyer now +addressed his client. + +The topic which had awakened in me these doubts and consequent +agitation will appear from the opening question. + +“Mr. Cumberland, to return to the night of your sister’s death. Can you +tell us what overcoat you put on when leaving your house?” + +Arthur was as astonished and certainly as disconcerted, if not as +seriously alarmed, as I was, by this extraordinary move. Surprise, +anger, then some deeper feeling rang in his voice as he replied: + +“I cannot. I took down the first I saw and _the first hat._” + +The emphasis placed on the last three words may have been meant as a +warning to his audacious counsel, but if so, it was not heeded. + +“Took down? Took down from where?” + +“From the rack in the hall where I hang my things; the side hall +leading to the door where we usually go out.” + +“Have you many coats--overcoats, I mean?” + +“More than one.” + +“And you do not know which one you put on that cold night?” + +“I do not.” + +“But you know what one you wore back?” + +“No.” + +Short, sharp, and threatening was this _no_. A war was on between this +man and his counsel, and the wonder it occasioned was visible in every +eye. Perhaps Mr. Moffat realised this; this was what he had dreaded, +perhaps. At all events, he proceeded with his strange task, in apparent +oblivion of everything but his own purpose. + +“You do not know what one you wore back?” + +“I do not.” + +“You have seen the hat and coat which have been shown here and sworn to +as being the ones in which you appeared on your return to the house, +the day following your sister’s murder?” + +“I have.” + +“Also the hat and coat found on a remote hook in the closet under the +stairs, bearing the flour-mark on its under brim?” + +“Yes, that too.” + +“Yet cannot say which of these two overcoats you put on when you left +your home, an hour or so after finishing your dinner?” + +Trapped by his own lawyer--visibly and remorselessly trapped! The +blood, shooting suddenly into the astounded prisoner’s face, was +reflected on the cheeks of the other lawyers present. Even Mr. +Fox betrayed his surprise; but it was a surprise not untinged by +apprehension. Mr. Moffat must feel very sure of himself to venture thus +far. I, who feared to ask myself the cause of this assurance, could +only wait and search the partially visible face of little Ella for an +enlightenment, which was no more to be found there than in the swollen +features of the outraged Arthur. The excitement which this event +caused, afforded the latter some few moments in which to quell his own +indignation; and when he spoke, it was passionately, yet not without +some effort at restraint. + +“I cannot. I was in no condition to notice. I was bent on going into +town, and immediately upon coming downstairs went straight to the rack +and pulled on the first things that offered.” + +It appeared to be a perfect give-a-way. And it was, but it was a +give-a-way which, I feared, threatened Carmel rather than her brother. + +Mr. Moffat, still nervous, still avoiding the prisoner’s eye, +relentlessly pursued his course, unmindful--wilfully so, it +appeared--of the harm he was doing himself, as well as the witness. + +“Mr. Cumberland, were a coat and hat all that you took from that hall?” + +“No, I took a key--a key from the bunch which I saw lying on the table.” + +“Did you recognise this key?” + +“I did.” + +“What key was it?” + +“It belonged to Mr. Ranelagh, and was the key to the club-house +wine-vault.” + +“Where did you put it after taking it up?” + +“In my trousers’ pocket.” + +“What did you do then?” + +“Went out, of course.” + +“Without seeing anybody?” + +“Of course. Whom should I see?” + +It was angrily said, and the flush, which had begun to die away, slowly +made its way back into his cheeks. + +“Are you willing to repeat that you saw no one?” + +“There was no one.” + +A lie! All knew it, all felt it. The man was perjuring himself, under +his own counsel’s persistent questioning on a point which that counsel +had evidently been warned by him to avoid. I was assured of this by the +way Moffat failed to meet Arthur’s eye, as he pressed on hastily, and +in a way to forestall all opposition. + +“There are two ways of leaving your house for the city. Which way did +you take?” + +“The shortest. I went through my neighbour’s grounds to Huested Street.” + +“Immediately?” + +“As soon as I could. I don’t know what you mean by immediately.” + +“Didn’t you stop at the stable?” + +A pause, during which more than one person present sat breathless. +These questions were what might be expected from Mr. Fox in +cross-examination. They seemed totally unsuited to a direct examination +at the hands of his own counsel. What did such an innovation mean? + +“Yes, I stopped at the stable.” + +“What to do?” + +“To look at the horses.” + +“Why?” + +“One of them had gone lame. I wanted to see his condition.” + +“Was it the grey mare?” + +Had the defence changed places with the prosecution? It looked like +it; and Arthur looked as if he considered Mr. Moffat guilty of the +unheard of, inexplainable act, of cross-examining his own witness. The +situation was too tempting for Mr. Fox to resist calling additional +attention to it. With an assumption of extreme consideration, he leaned +forward and muttered under his breath to his nearest colleague, but +still loud enough for those about him to hear: + +“The prisoner must know that he is not bound to answer questions when +such answers tend to criminate him.”. + +A lightning glance, shot in his direction, was the eloquent advocate’s +sole reply. + +But Arthur, nettled into speaking, answered the question put him, in a +loud, quick tone: “It was not the grey mare; but I went up to the grey +mare before going out; I patted her and bade her be a good girl.” + +“Where was she then?” + +“Where she belonged--in her stall.” + +The tones had sunk; so had the previously lifted head; he no longer +commanded universal sympathy or credence. The effect of his former +avowals was almost gone. + +Yet Mr. Moffat could smile. As I noticed this, and recognised the +satisfaction it evinced, my heart went down, in great trouble. This +esteemed advocate, the hero of a hundred cases, was not afraid to have +it known that Arthur had harnessed that mare; he even wanted it known. +Why? There could be but one answer to that--or, so I thought, at the +moment. The next, I did not know what to think; for he failed to pursue +this subject, and simply asked Arthur if, upon leaving, he had locked +the stable-door. + +“Yes--no,--I don’t remember,” was the bungling, and greatly confused +reply. + +Mr. Moffat glanced at the jury, the smile still on his lips. Did he +wish to impress that body with the embarrassment of his client? + +“Relate what followed. I am sure the jury will be glad to hear your +story from your own lips.” + +“It’s a beastly one, but if I’ve got to tell it, here it is: I went +straight down to Cuthbert Road and across the fields to the club-house. +I had not taken the key to the front door, because I knew of a window +I could shake loose. I did this and went immediately down to the +wine-vault. I used an electric torch of my own for light. I pulled +out several bottles, and carried them up into the kitchen, meaning to +light the gas, kindle a fire, and have a good time generally. But I +soon found that I must do without light if I stayed there. The meter +had been taken out; and to drink by the flash of an electric torch was +anything but a pleasing prospect. Besides--” here he flashed at his +counsel a glance, which for a moment took that gentleman aback--“I +had heard certain vague sounds in the house which alarmed me, as well +as roused my curiosity. Choosing the bottle I liked best, I went to +investigate these sounds.” + +Mr. Moffat started. His witness was having his revenge. Kept in +ignorance of his counsel’s plan of defence, he was evidently advancing +testimony new to that counsel. I had not thought the lad so subtle, and +quaked in secret contemplation of the consequences. So did some others; +but the interest was intense. He had heard sounds--he acknowledged it. +But what sounds? + +Observing the excitement he had caused, and gratified, perhaps, that +he had succeeded in driving that faint but unwelcome smile from Mr. +Moffat’s lips, Arthur hastened to add: + +“But I did not complete my investigations. Arrived at the top of +the stairs, I heard what drove me from the house at once. It was my +sister’s voice--Adelaide’s. She was in the building, and I stood almost +on a level with her, with a bottle in my pocket. It did not take me a +minute to clamber through the window. I did not stop to wonder, or ask +why she was there, or to whom she was speaking. I just fled and made +my way as well as I could across the golf-links to a little hotel on +Cuthbert Road, where I had been once before. There I emptied my bottle, +and was so overcome by it that I did not return home till noon the +next day. It was on the way to the Hill that I was told of the awful +occurrence which had taken place in the club-house after I had left it. +That sobered me. I have been sober ever since.” + +Mr. Moffat’s smile came back. One might have said that he had been +rather pleased than otherwise by the introduction of this unexpected +testimony. + +But I doubt if any one but myself witnessed this evidence of +good-humour on his part. Arthur’s attitude and Arthur’s manner had +drawn all eyes to himself. As the last words I have recorded left +his lips, he had raised his head and confronted the jury with a +straightforward gaze. The sturdiness and immobility of his aspect were +impressive, in spite of his plain features and the still unmistakable +signs of long cherished discontent and habitual dissipation. He had +struck bottom with his feet, and there he would stand,--or so I thought +as I levelled my own glances at him. + +But I had not fully sounded all of Alonzo Moffat’s resources. That +inscrutable lawyer and not-easily-to-be-understood man seemed +determined to mar every good impression his unfortunate client managed +to make. + +Ignoring the new facts just given, undoubtedly thinking that they would +be amply sifted in the coming cross-examination, he drew the attention +of the prisoner to himself by the following question: + +“Will you tell us again how many bottles of wine you took from the +club-house?” + +“One. No--I’m not sure about that--I’m not sure of anything. I had only +one when at the inn in Cuthbert Road.” + +“You remember but one?” + +“I had but one. One was enough. I had trouble in carrying that.” + +“Was the ground slippery?” + +“It was snowy and it was uneven. I stumbled more than once in crossing +the links.” + +“Mr. Cumberland, is there anything you would like to say in your own +defence before I close this examination?” + +The prisoner thus appealed to, let his eye rest for a moment on the +judge, then on the jury, and finally on one little white face lifted +from the crowd before him as if to meet and absorb his look. Then he +straightened himself, and in a quiet and perfectly natural voice, +uttered these simple words: + +“Nothing but this: I am innocent.” + + + + +XXVI + +THE SYLLABLE OF DOOM + +I alit +On a great ship lightning-split, +And speeded hither on the sigh +Of one who gave an enemy +His plank, then plunged aside to die. + +_Prometheus Unbound_. + + +Recess followed. Clifton and I had the opportunity of exchanging a few +words. He was voluble; I was reticent. I felt obliged to hide from +him the true cause of the deep agitation under which I was labouring. +Attached as he was to me, keenly as he must have felt my anomalous +position, he was too full of Moffat’s unwarrantable introduction of +testimony damaging to his client, to think or talk of anything else. + +“He has laid him open to attack on every side. Fox has but to follow +his lead, and the thing is done. Poor Arthur may be guilty, but he +certainly should have every chance a careful lawyer could give him. +You can see--he makes it very evident--that he has no further use for +Moffat. I wonder under whose advice he chose him for his counsel. I +have never thought much of Moffat, myself. He wins his cases but--” + +“He will win this,” I muttered. + +Clifton started; looked at me very closely for a minute, paled a +little--I fear that I was very pale myself--but did not ask the +question rising to his lips. + +“There is method in the madness of a man like that,” I pursued with a +gloom I could not entirely conceal. “He has come upon some evidence +which he has not even communicated to his client. At least, I fear so. +We must be prepared for any untoward event.” Then, noticing Clifton’s +alarm and wishing to confine it within safe bounds, I added: “I feel +that I am almost as much on trial as Arthur himself. Naturally I am +anxious at the appearance of anything I do not understand.” + +Clifton frowned. We were quite alone. Leaning forward, he touched my +arm. + +“Elwood,” said he, “you’ve not been quite open with me.” + +I smiled. If half the bitterness and sorrow in my heart went into that +smile, it must have been a sad and bitter one indeed. + +“You have a right to reproach me,” said I, “but not wholly. I did not +deceive you in essentials. You may still believe me as guiltless of +Adelaide’s violent death as a man can be who drove her and hers into +misery which death alone could end.” + +“I will believe it,” he muttered, “I must.” And he dropped the subject, +as he made me see, forever. + +I drew a deep breath of relief. I had come very near to revealing my +secret. + +When we returned to the court-room, we found it already packed with a +very subdued and breathless crowd. It differed somewhat from the one +which had faced us in the morning; but Ella and her parents were there +and many others of the acknowledged friends of the accused and of his +family. + +He, himself, wore the heavy and dogged air which became him least. +Physically refreshed, he carried himself boldly, but it was a boldness +which convinced me that any talk he may have had with his lawyer, had +been no more productive of comfort than the one I had held with mine. + +As he took the witness chair, and prepared to meet the +cross-examination of the district attorney, a solemn hush settled +upon the room. Would the coming ordeal rob his brow of its present +effrontery, or would he continue to bear himself with the same surly +dignity, which, misunderstood as it was, produced its own effect, and +at certain moments seemed to shake even the confidence of Mr. Fox, +settled as he seemed to be in his belief in the integrity of his cause +and the rights of the prosecution. + +Shaken or not, his attack was stern, swift, and to the point. + +“Was the visit you made to the wine-vault on the evening of the second +of December, the first one you had ever paid there?” + +“No; I had been there once before. But I always paid for my +depredations,” he added, proudly. + +“The categorical answer, Mr. Cumberland. Anything else is superfluous.” + +Arthur’s lip curled, but only for an instant; and nothing could have +exceeded the impassiveness of his manner as Mr. Fox went on. + +“Then you knew the way?” + +“Perfectly.” + +“And the lock?” + +“Sufficiently well to open it without difficulty.” + +“How long do you think you were in entering the house and procuring +these bottles?” + +“I cannot say. I have no means of knowing; I never thought of looking +at my watch.” + +“Not when you started? Not when you left Cuthbert Road?” + +“No, sir.” + +“But you know when you left the club-house to go back?” + +“Only by this--it had not yet begun to snow. I’m told that the +first flakes fell that night at ten minutes to eleven. I was on the +golf-links when this happened. You can fix the time yourself. Pardon +me,” he added, with decided ill-grace as he met Mr. Fox’s frown. “I +forgot your injunction.” + +Mr. Fox smiled an acrid smile, as he asked: “Whereabouts on the +golf-links? They extend for some distance, you remember.” + +“They are six hundred yards across from first tee to the third hole, +which is the nearest one to Cuthbert Road,” Arthur particularised. “I +was--no, I can’t tell you just where I was at that moment. It was a +good ways from the house. The snow came on very fiercely. For a little +while I could not see my way.” + +“How, not see your way?” + +“The snow flew into my eyes.” + +“Crossing the links?” + +“Yes, sir, crossing the links.” + +“But the storm came from the west. It should have beaten against your +back.” + +“Back or front, it bothered me. I could not get on as fast as I wished.” + +Mr. Fox cast a look at the jury. Did they remember the testimony of the +landlord that Mr. Cumberland’s coat was as thickly plastered with snow +on the front as it had been on the back. He seemed to gather that they +did, for he went on at once to say: + +“You are accustomed to the links? You have crossed them often?” + +“Yes, I play golf there all summer.” + +“I’m not alluding to the times when you play. I mean to ask whether or +not you had ever before crossed them directly to Cuthbert Road?” + +“Yes, I had.” + +“In a storm?” + +“No, not in a storm.” + +“How long did it take you that time to reach Cuthbert Road from The +Whispering Pines?” + +Mr. Moffat bounded to his feet, but the prisoner had answered before he +could speak. + +“Just fifteen minutes.” + +“How came you to know the time so exactly?” + +“Because that day I did look at my watch. I had an engagement in the +lower town, and had only twenty minutes in which to keep it. I was on +time.” + +Honest at the core. This boy was growing rapidly in my favour. But this +frank but unwise answer was not pleasing to his counsel, who would have +advised, no doubt, a more general and less precise reply. However, it +had been made and Moffat was not a man to cry over spilled milk. He +did not even wince when the district attorney proceeded to elicit from +the prisoner that he was a good walker, not afraid in the least of +snow-storms and had often walked, in the teeth of the gale twice that +distance in less than half an hour. Now, as the storm that night had +been at his back, and he was in a hurry to reach his destination, it +was evidently incumbent upon him to explain how he had managed to use +up the intervening time of forty minutes before entering the hotel at +half-past eleven. + +“Did you stop in the midst of the storm to take a drink?” asked the +district attorney. + +As the testimony of the landlord in Cuthbert Road had been explicit +as to the fact of his having himself uncorked the bottle which the +prisoner had brought into the hotel, Arthur could not plead yes. He +must say no, and he did. + +“I drank nothing; I was too busy thinking. I was so busy thinking I +wandered all over those links.” + +“In the blinding snow?” + +“Yes, in the snow. What did I care for the snow? I did not understand +my sister being in the club-house. I did not like it; I was tempted at +times to go back.” + +“And why didn’t you?” + +“Because I was more of a brute than a brother--because Cuthbert Road +drew me in spite of myself--because--” He stopped with the first hint +of emotion we had seen in him since the morning. “I did not know what +was going on there or I should have gone back,” he flashed out, with a +defiant look at his counsel. + +Again sympathy was with him. Mr. Fox had won but little in this first +attempt. He seemed to realise this, and shifted his attack to a point +more vulnerable. + +“When you heard your sister’s voice in the club-house, how did you +think she had got into the building?” + +“By means of the keys Ranelagh had left at the house.” + +“When, instead of taking the whole bunch, you took the one key you +wanted from the ring, did you do so with any idea she might want to +make use of the rest?” + +“No, I never thought of it. I never thought of her at all.” + +“You took your one key, and let the rest lie?” + +“You’ve said it.” + +“Was this before or after you put on your overcoat?” + +“I’m not sure; after, I think. Yes, it was after; for I remember that +I had a deuce of a time unbuttoning my coat to get at my trousers’ +pocket.” + +“You dropped this key into your trousers’ pocket?” + +“I did.” + +“Mr. Cumberland, let me ask you to fix your memory on the moments you +spent in the hall. Did you put on your hat before you pocketed the key, +or afterwards?” + +“My hat? How can I tell? My mind wasn’t on my hat. I don’t know when I +put it on.” + +“You absolutely do not remember?” + +“No.” + +“Nor where you took it from?” + +“No.” + +“Whether you saw the keys first, and then went for your hat; or having +pocketed the key, waited--” + +“I did not wait.” + +“Did not stand by the table thinking?” + +“No, I was in too much of a hurry.” + +“So that you went straight out?” + +“Yes, as quickly as I could.” + +The district attorney paused, to be sure of the attention of the jury. +When he saw that every eye of that now thoroughly aroused body was on +him, he proceeded to ask: “Does that mean immediately, or as soon as +you could after you had made certain preparations, or held certain talk +with some one you called, or who called to you?” + +“I called to nobody. I--I went out immediately.” + +It was evident that he lied; evident, too, that he had little hope from +his lie. Uneasiness was taking the place of confidence in his youthful, +untried, undisciplined mind. Carmel had spoken to him in the hall--I +guessed it then, I knew it afterward--and he thought to deceive this +court and blindfold a jury, whose attention had been drawn to this +point by his own counsel. + +District Attorney Fox smiled. “How then did you get into the stable?” + +“The stable! Oh, I had no trouble in getting into the stable.” + +“Was it unlocked?” + +A slow flush broke over the prisoner’s whole face. He saw where he +had been landed and took a minute to pull himself together before he +replied: “I had the key to that door, too. I got it out of the kitchen.” + +“You have not spoken of going into the kitchen.” + +“I have not spoken of coming downstairs.” + +“You went into the kitchen?” + +“Yes.” + +“When?” + +“When I first came down.” + +“That is not in accordance with your direct testimony. On the contrary, +you said that on coming downstairs you went straight to the rack for +your overcoat. Stenographer read what the prisoner said on this topic.” + +A rustling of leaves, distinctly to be heard in the deathlike silence +of the room, was followed by the reading of this reply and answer: + +“_Yet you cannot say which of these two overcoats you put on when you +left your home an hour or so after finishing your dinner?_” + +“_I cannot. I was in no condition to notice. I was bent on going into +town and, on coming downstairs, I went straight to the rack and pulled +on the first things that offered._” + +The prisoner stood immobile but with a deepening line gathering on his +brow until the last word fell. Then he said: “I forgot. I went for the +key before I put on my overcoat. I wanted to see how the sick horse +looked.” + +“Did you drop this key into your pocket, too?” + +“No, I carried it into the hall.” + +“What did you do with it there?” + +“I don’t know. Put it on the table, I suppose.” + +“Don’t you remember? There were other keys lying on this table. Don’t +you remember what you did with the one in your hand while you took the +club-house key from the midst of Mr. Ranelagh’s bunch?” + +“I laid it on the table. I must have--there was no other place to put +it.” + +“Laid it down by itself?” + +“Yes.” + +“And took it up when you went out?” + +“Of course.” + +“Carrying it straight to the stable?” + +“Naturally.” + +“What did you do with it when you came out?” + +“I left it in the stable-door.” + +“You did? What excuse have you to give for that?” + +“None. I was reckless, and didn’t care for anything--that’s all.” + +“Yet you took several minutes, for all your hurry and your +indifference, to get the stable key and look in at a horse that wasn’t +sick enough to keep your coachman home from a dance.” + +The prisoner was silent. + +“You have no further explanation to give on this subject?” + +“No. All fellows who love horses will understand.” + +The district attorney shrugged this answer away before he went on to +say: “You have listened to Zadok Brown’s testimony. When he returned at +three, he found the stable-door locked, and the key hanging up on its +usual nail in the kitchen. How do you account for this?” + +“There are two ways.” + +“Mention them, if you please.” + +“Zadok had been to a dance, and may not have been quite clear as to +what he saw. Or, finding the stable door open, may have blamed himself +for the fact and sought to cover up his fault with a lie.” + +“Have you ever caught him in a lie?” + +“No; but there’s always a first time.” + +“You would impeach his testimony then?” + +“No. You asked me how this discrepancy could be explained, and I have +tried to show you.” + +“Mr. Cumberland, the grey mare was out that night; this has been amply +proved.” + +“If you believe Zadok, yes.” + +“You have heard other testimony corroborative of this fact. She was +seen on the club-house road that night, by a person amply qualified to +identify her.” + +“So I’ve been told.” + +“The person driving this horse wore a hat, identified as an old one +of yours, which hat was afterwards found at your house on a remote +peg in a seldom-used closet. If you were not this person, how can you +explain the use of your horse, the use of your clothes, the locking of +the stable-door--which you declare yourself to have left open--and the +hanging up of the key on its own nail?” + +It was a crucial question--how crucial no one knew but our two selves. +If he answered at all, he must compromise Carmel. I had no fear of his +doing this, but I had great fear of what Ella might do if he let this +implication stand and made no effort to exonerate himself by denying +his presence in the cutter, and consequent return to the Cumberland +home. The quick side glances I here observed cast in her direction +by both father and mother, showed that she had made some impulsive +demonstration visible to them, if not to others and fearful of the +consequences if I did not make some effort to hold her in check, I kept +my eyes in her direction, and so lost Arthur’s look and the look of his +counsel as he answered, with just the word I had expected--a short and +dogged: + +“I cannot explain.” + +It was my death warrant. I realised this even while I held Ella’s eye +with mine and smoothed my countenance to meet the anguish in hers, in +the effort to hold her back for a few minutes longer till I could quite +satisfy myself that Arthur’s case was really lost and that I must speak +or feel myself his murderer. + +The gloom which followed this recognition of his inability, real or +fancied, to explain away the most damning feature of the case against +him, taken with his own contradictions and growing despondency, could +not escape my eye, accustomed as I was to the habitual expression of +most every person there. But it was not yet the impenetrable gloom +presaging conviction; and directing Ella’s gaze towards Mr. Moffat, +who seemed but little disturbed either by Mr. Fox’s satisfaction or +the prisoner’s open despair, I took heart of grace and waited for the +district attorney’s next move. It was a fatal one. I began to recognise +this very soon, simple as was the subject he now introduced. + +“When you went into the kitchen, Mr. Cumberland, to get the stable-door +key, was the gas lit, or did you have to light it?” + +“It--it was lit, I think.” + +“Don’t you know?” + +“It was lit, but turned low. I could see well enough.” + +“Why, then, didn’t you take both keys?” + +“Both keys?” + +“You have said you went down town by the short cut through your +neighbour’s yard. That cut is guarded by a door, which was locked that +night. You needed the key to that door more than the one to the stable. +Why didn’t you take it?” + +“I--I did.” + +“You haven’t said so.” + +“I--I took it when I took the other.” + +“Are you sure?” + +“Yes; they both hung on one nail. I grabbed them both at the same time.” + +“It does not appear so in your testimony. You mentioned a key, not +keys, in all your answers to my questions.” + +“There were two; I didn’t weigh my words. I needed both and I took +both.” + +“Which of the two hung foremost?” + +“I didn’t notice.” + +“You took both?” + +“Yes, I took both.” + +“And went straight out with them?” + +“Yes, to the stable.” + +“And then where?” + +“Through the adjoining grounds downtown.” + +“You are sure you went through Mr. Fulton’s grounds at this early hour +in the evening?” + +“I am positive.” + +“Was it not at a later hour, much later, a little before eleven instead +of a little before nine?” + +“No, sir. I was on the golf-links then.” + +“But some one drove into the stable.” + +“So you say.” + +“Unharnessed the horse, drew up the cutter, locked the stable-door, +and, entering the house, hung up the key where it belonged.” + +No answer this time. + +“Mr. Cumberland, you admitted in your direct examination that you took +with you out of the clubhouse only one bottle of the especial brand you +favoured, although you carried up two into the kitchen?” + +“No, I said that I only had one when I got to Cuthbert Road. I don’t +remember anything about the other.” + +“But you know where the other--or rather remnants of the other, was +found?” + +“In my own stable, taken there by my man Zadok Brown, who says he +picked it out of one of our waste barrels.” + +“This is the part of bottle referred to. Do you recognise the label +still adhering to it as similar to the one to be found on the bottle +you emptied in Cuthbert Road?” + +“It is like that one.” + +“Had you carried that other bottle off, and had it been broken as +this has been broken would it not have presented an exactly similar +appearance to this?” + +“Possibly.” + +“Only possibly?” + +“It would have looked the same. I cannot deny it. What’s the use +fooling?” + +“Mr. Cumberland, the only two bottles known to contain this especial +brand of wine were in the clubhouse at ten o’clock that night. How came +one of them to get into the barrel outside your stable before your +return the next day?” + +“I cannot say.” + +“This barrel stood where?” + +“In the passage behind the stable.” + +“The passage you pass through on your way to the door leading into your +neighbour’s grounds?” + +“Yes.” + +The dreaded moment had come. This “Yes” had no sooner left Arthur’s +lips than I saw Ella throw out her innocent arms, and leap impetuously +to her feet, with a loud “No, no, I can tell--” + +She did not say what, for at the hubbub roused by this outbreak in +open court, she fainted dead away and was carried out in her dismayed +father’s arms. + +This necessarily caused a break in the proceedings. Mr. Fox suspended +his cross-examination and in a few minutes more, the judge adjourned +the court. As the prisoner rose and turned to pass out, I cast him +a hurried glance to see what effect had been made upon him by this +ingenuous outburst from one he had possibly just a little depreciated. +A great one, evidently. His features were transformed, and he seemed +almost as oblivious of the countless eyes upon him as she had been when +she rose to testify for him in her self-forgetful enthusiasm. As I +observed this and the satisfaction with which Mr. Moffat scented this +new witness,--a satisfaction which promised little consideration for +her if she ever came upon the stand--I surrendered to fate. + +Inwardly committing Carmel’s future to the God who made her and who +knew better than we the story of her life and what her fiery temper +had cost her, I drew a piece of paper from my pocket, and, while the +courtroom was slowly emptying, hastily addressed the following lines to +Mr. Moffat who had lingered to have a few words with his colleague: + +“There is a witness in this building who can testify more clearly and +definitely than Miss Fulton, that Arthur Cumberland, for all we have +heard in seeming contradiction to the same, might have been on the +golf-links at the time he swears to. That witness is myself. + +“ELWOOD RANELAGH.” + +The time which elapsed between my passing over this note and his +receiving and reading it, was to me like the last few moments of +a condemned criminal. How gladly would I have changed places with +Arthur, and with what sensations of despair I saw flitting before me +in my mind’s eye, the various visions of Carmel’s loveliness which had +charmed me out of myself. But the die had been cast, and I was ready +to meet the surprised lawyer’s look when his eye rose from the words I +had written and settled steadily on my face. Next minute he was writing +busily and in a second later I was reading these words: + +“Do you absolutely wish to be recalled as a witness, and by the +defence? M.” + +My answer was brief: + +“I do. Not to make a confession of crime. I have no such confession to +make. But I know who drove that horse. R.” + +I had sacrificed Carmel to my sense of right. Never had I loved her as +I did at that moment. + + + + +XXVII + +EXPECTANCY + +I see your end, +’T is my undoing. + +_King Henry VIII_. + + +A turning-point had been reached in the defence. That every one knew +after the first glance at Mr. Moffat, on the opening of the next +morning’s session. As I noted the excitement which this occasioned +even in quarters where self-control is usually most marked and such +emotions suppressed, I marvelled at the subtle influence of one man’s +expectancy, and the powerful effect which can be produced on a feverish +crowd by a well-ordered silence suggestive of coming action. + +I, who knew the basis of this expectancy and the nature of the action +with which Mr. Moffat anticipated startling the court, was the quietest +person present. Since it was my hand and none other which must give +this fresh turn to the wheel of justice, it were well for me to +do it calmly and without any of the old maddening throb of heart. +But the time seemed long before Arthur was released from further +cross-examination, and the opportunity given Mr. Moffat to call his +next witness. + +Something in the attitude he now took, something in the way he bent +over his client and whispered a few admonitory words, and still more +the emotion with which these words were received and answered by some +extraordinary protest, aroused expectation to a still greater pitch, +and made my course seem even more painful to myself than I had foreseen +when dreaming over and weighing the possibilities of this hour. With +something like terror, I awaited the calling of my name; and, when it +was delayed, it was with emotions inexplicable to myself that I looked +up and saw Mr. Moffat holding open a door at the left of the judge, +with that attitude of respect, which a man only assumes in the presence +and under the dominating influence of woman. + +“Ella!” thought I. “Instead of saving her by my contemplated sacrifice +of Carmel, I have only added one sacrifice to another.” + +But when the timid faltering step we could faintly hear crossing the +room beyond, had brought its possessor within sight, and I perceived +the tall, black-robed, heavily veiled woman who reached for Mr. +Moffat’s sustaining arm, I did not need the startling picture of the +prisoner, standing upright, with outheld and repellant hands, to +realise that the impossible had happened, and that all which he, as +well as I, had done and left undone, suffered and suppressed, had been +in vain. + +Mr. Moffat, with no eye for him or for me, conducted his witness to a +chair; then, as she loosened her veil and let it drop in her lap, he +cried in tones which rang from end to end of the court-room: “I summon +Carmel Cumberland to the stand, to witness in her brother’s defence.” + +The surprise was complete. It was a great moment for Mr. Moffat; but +for me all was confusion, dread, a veil of misty darkness, through +which shone her face, marred by its ineffaceable scar, but calm as I +had never expected to see it again in this life, and beautiful with a +smile under which her deeply shaken and hardly conscious brother sank +slowly back into his seat, amid a silence as profound as the hold she +had immediately taken upon all hearts. + + + + +XXVIII + +“WHERE IS MY BROTHER?” + +Let me see the writing. +My lord, ’tis nothing. +No matter, then, who sees it; +I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. + +_Richard II_. + + +What is the explanation of Carmel’s reappearance in town and of this +sensational introduction of her into the court-room, in a restored +state of health of which no one, so far as known, had had any +intimation save the man who was responsible for her appearance? The +particulars are due you. + +She had passed some weeks at Lakewood, under the eye of the nurse who +was detailed to watch, as well as tend her. During these weeks she gave +no sign of improvement mentally, though she constantly gained strength +otherwise, and impressed everybody with the clear light in her eye and +the absence of everything suggestive of gloom in her expression and +language. There was the same complete loss of memory up to the time of +the tragic occurrence which had desolated her home; the same harping +at odd moments on Adelaide’s happiness and her own prospect of seeing +this dear sister very soon which had marked the opening days of her +convalescence. But beyond and back of all this was some secret joy, +unintelligible to the nurse, which helped rather than retarded the sick +girl’s recovery, and made Carmel appear at times as if she walked on +air and breathed the very breath of Paradise--an anomaly which not only +roused Miss Unwin’s curiosity, but led her to regard with something +like apprehension, any change in her patient’s state of mind which +would rob her of the strange and unseen delights which fed her secret +soul and made her oblivious of the awful facts awaiting a restored +memory. + +Meanwhile Carmel was allowed such liberty as her condition required; +but was never left alone for a moment after a certain day when her +eye suddenly took on a strange look of confused inquiry, totally +dissociated with anything she saw or heard. A stir had taken place +in her brain, and her nurse wanted to take her back home. But this +awakening--if such it could be called, was so short in its duration and +was followed so immediately by a string of innocent questions about +Adelaide, that Nurse Unwin concluded to remain a few days longer before +risking this delicately balanced mind amid old scenes and the curious +glances of her townspeople. + +Alas! the awakening was to take place in Lakewood and under +circumstances of the most ordinary nature. Carmel had been out and was +just crossing the hall of her hotel to the elevator, when she stopped +with a violent start and clutching the air, was caught by her nurse +who had hurried up at the first intimation of anything unusual in the +condition of her patient. + +The cause of this agitation was immediately apparent. Near them sat two +ladies, each with a small wine-glass in her hand. One was drinking, +the other waiting and watching, but with every apparent intention of +drinking when the other had ceased. A common sight enough, but it +worked a revolution in Carmel’s darkened mind. The light of youthful +joyousness fled from her face; and the cheek, just pulsing softly with +new life, blanched to the death-like hue of mortal suffering. Dropping +her eyes from the women, who saw nothing and continued to sip their +wine in happy ignorance of the soul-tragedy going on within ten feet of +them, she looked down at her dress, then up at the walls about her; and +then slowly, anxiously, and with unmistakable terror, at the woman in +whose arms she felt herself supported. + +“Explain,” she murmured. “Where am I?” + +“At Lakewood, in a hotel. You have been ill, and are only just +recovering.” + +Her hand went up to her cheek, the one that had been burned, and still +showed the deep traces of that accident. + +“I remember,” said she. Then with another glance at her dress, which +had studiously been kept cheerful, she remarked, with deep reproach: +“My sister is dead; why am I not in black?” + +The nurse, realising her responsibility (she said afterwards that it +was the most serious moment of her life), subdued her own astonishment +at this proof of her young patient’s knowledge of a crime of which she +was universally supposed to be entirely ignorant, and, bestowing a +reassuring smile on the agitated girl, observed softly: + +“You wore too ill to be burdened with black. You are better now and may +assume it if you will. I will help you buy your mourning.” + +“Yes, you look like a kind woman. What is your name, please, and are we +here alone in this great hotel?” + +Now, as a matter of expediency--to save Carmel from the unendurable +curiosity of the crowd, and herself from the importunities of the New +York reporters, Miss Unwin had registered herself and her charge under +assumed names. She was, therefore, forced to reply: + +“My name is Huckins, and we are here alone. But that need not worry +you. I have watched over you night and day for many weeks.” + +“You have? Because of this slight burn?” Again Carmel’s hand went to +her cheek. + +“Not on account of that only. You have had a serious illness quite +apart from that injury. But you are better; you are almost well--well +enough to go home, if you will.” + +“I cannot go home--not just yet. I’m--I’m not strong enough. But +we shouldn’t be here alone without some man to look after us. Miss +Huckins, _where is my brother_?” + +At this question, uttered with emphasis, with anxiety--with indignation +even--Miss Unwin felt the emotion she had so successfully subdued up to +this moment, betray itself in her voice as she answered, with a quiet +motion towards the elevator: “Let us go up to our room. There I will +answer all your questions.” + +But Carmel, with the waywardness of her years--or perhaps, with deeper +reasoning powers than the other would be apt to attribute to her--broke +softly away from Miss Unwin’s detaining hand, and walking directly +into the office, looked about for the newspaper stand. Miss Unwin, +over-anxious not to make a scene, followed, but did not seek to deter +her, until they were once again by themselves in the centre of the +room. Then she ventured to speak again: + +“We have all the papers in our room. Come up, and let me read them to +you.” + +But Fate was making ready its great stroke. Just as Carmel seemed about +to yield to this persuasion, some lingering doubt drew her eyes again +to the stand, just at the very moment a boy stepped into view with the +evening bulletin, on which had just been written these words: + +The Last Juror Obtained in the Trial of Arthur Cumberland for the +Murder of His Sister, Adelaide. + +Carmel saw, and stood--a breathless image of horror. A couple of +gentlemen came running; but the nurse waved them back, and herself +caught Carmel and upheld her, in momentary dread of another mental, if +not physical, collapse. + +But Carmel had come back into the world of consciousness to stay. +Accepting her nurse’s support, but giving no sign of waning faculties +or imperfect understanding of what she had seen, she spoke quite +clearly and with her eyes fixed upon Miss Unwin: + +“So that is why I am here, away from all my friends. Was I too ill +to be told? Couldn’t you make me know what was happening? You or the +doctors or--or anybody?” + +“You were much too ill,” protested the nurse, leading her towards the +elevator and so by degrees to her room. “I tried to arouse you after +the crisis of your illness had passed; but you seemed to have forgotten +everything which took place that night and the doctors warned me not to +press you.” + +“And Arthur--poor Arthur, has been the sufferer! Tell me the whole +story. I can bear it,” she pleaded. “I can bear anything but not +knowing. Why should he have fallen under suspicion? He was not even +there. I must go to him! Pack up our clothing, Miss Huckins. I must go +to him at once.” + +They were in their own room now, and Carmel was standing quite by +herself in the full light of the setting sun. With the utterance of +this determination, she had turned upon her companion; and that astute +and experienced woman had every opportunity for observing her face. +There was a woman’s resolution in it. With the sudden rending of the +clouds which had obscured her intellect, strange powers had awakened in +this young girl, giving her a force of expression which, in connection +with her inextinguishable beauty, formed a spectacle before which this +older woman, in spite of her long experience, hesitated in doubt. + +“You shall go--” began the nurse, and stopped. + +Carmel was not listening. Another change of thought had come, and her +features, as keenly alive now to every passing emotion as they had +formerly been set in a dull placidity, mirrored doubts of her own, +which had a deeper source than any which had disturbed the nurse, even +in these moments of serious perplexity. + +“How can I?” fell in unconscious betrayal from her lips. “How can I!” +Then she stood silent, ghastly with lack of colour one minute, and +rosy red with its excess the next, until it was hard to tell in which +extreme her feeling spoke most truly. + +What was the feeling? Nurse Unwin felt it imperative to know. Relying +on the confidence shown her by this unfortunate girl, in her lonely +position and unbearable distress, she approached Carmel, with renewed +offers of help and such expressions of sympathy as she thought might +lure her into open speech. + +But discretion had come with fear, and Carmel, while not disdaining the +other’s kindness, instantly made it apparent that, whatever her burden, +and however unsuited it was to her present weak condition, it was not +one she felt willing to share. + +“I must think,” she murmured, as she finally followed the nurse’s lead +and seated herself on a lounge. “Arthur on trial for his life! _Arthur +on trial for his life!_ And Adelaide was not even murdered!” + +“No?” gasped the nurse, intent on every word this long-silenced witness +let fall. + +“Had he no friend? Was there not some one to understand? Adelaide--” +here her head fell till her face was lost to sight--“had--a--lover--” + +“Yes. Mr. Elwood Ranelagh. He was the first to be arrested for the +crime.” + +The soul in Carmel seemed to vanish at this word. The eyes, which had +been so far-seeing the moment before, grew blank, and the lithe young +body stiff with that death in life which is almost worse to look upon +than death itself. She did not speak; but presently she arose, as +an automaton might arise at the touch of some invisible spring, and +so stood, staring, until the nurse, frightened at the result of her +words and the complete overthrow which might follow them, sprang for a +newspaper and thrust it into her patient’s unwilling hand. + +Was it too late? For a minute it seemed to be so; then the stony eyes +softened and fell, the rigidity of her frame relaxed, and Carmel sank +back again on the sofa and tried to read the headlines on the open +sheet before her. But her eyes were unequal to the task. With a sob she +dropped the paper and entreated the nurse to relate to her from her own +knowledge, all that had passed, sparing her nothing that would make the +situation perfectly clear to one who had been asleep during the worst +crisis of her life. + +Miss Unwin complied, but with reservations. She told of Adelaide having +been found dead at The Whispering Pines by the police, whom she had +evidently summoned during a moment of struggle or fear; of Ranelagh’s +presence there, and of the suspicions to which it gave rise; of his +denial of the crime; of his strange reticence on certain points, which +served to keep him incarcerated till a New York detective got to work +and found so much evidence against her brother that Mr. Ranelagh was +subsequently released and Arthur Cumberland indicted. But she said +nothing about the marks on Adelaide’s throat, or of the special reason +which the police had for arresting Mr. Ranelagh. She did not dare. +Strangulation was a horrible death to contemplate; and if this factor +in the crime--she was not deceived by Carmel’s exclamation that there +had been no murder--was unknown as yet to her patient, as it must be +from what she had said, and the absolute impossibility, as she thought, +of her having known what went on in The Whispering Pines, then it had +better remain unknown to her until circumstances forced it on her +knowledge, or she had gotten sufficient strength to bear it. + +Carmel received the account well. She started when she heard of +the discovery of Ranelagh in the club-house on the entrance of the +police, and seemed disposed to ask some questions. But though the +nurse gave her an opportunity to do so, she appeared to hunt in vain +for the necessary words, and the narrative proceeded without further +interruption. When all was done, she sat quite still; then carefully, +and with a show of more judgment than might be expected from one of +her years, she propounded certain inquiries which brought out the main +causes for her brother’s arraignment. When she had these fully in mind, +she looked up into the nurse’s face again and repeated, quite calmly, +but with immovable decision, the order of an hour before: + +“We must return at once. You will pack up immediately.” + +Miss Unwin nodded, and began to open the trunks. + +This, however, was a ruse. She did not intend to take her patient +back that night. She was afraid to risk it. The next day would be +soon enough. But she would calm her by making ready, and when the +proper moment came, would find some complication of trains which would +interfere with their immediate departure. + +Meanwhile, she would communicate at the earliest moment with Mr. Fox. +She had been in the habit of sending him frequent telegrams as to her +patient’s condition. They had been invariable so far: “No difference; +mind still a blank,” or some code word significant of the same. But +a new word was necessary now. She must look it up, and formulate her +telegram before she did anything else. + +The code-book was in her top tray. She hunted and hunted for it, +without being able to lay her hands on it. She grew very nervous. She +was only human; she was in a very trying position, and she realised it. +Where could that book be? Suddenly she espied it and, falling on her +knees before the trunk, with her back still to Carmel, studied out the +words she wanted. She was leaning over the tray to write these words +in her note-book, when--no one ever knew how it happened--the lid of +the heavy trunk fell forward and its iron edge struck her on the nape +of the neck, with a keen blow which laid her senseless. When Carmel +reached her side, she found herself the strong one and her stalwart +nurse the patient. + +When help had been summoned, the accident explained, and everything +done for the unconscious woman which medical skill could suggest, +Carmel, finding a moment to herself, stole to the trunk, and, lifting +up the lid, looked in. She had been watchful of her nurse from the +first, and was suspicious of the actions which had led to this untoward +accident. Seeing the two little books, she took them out. The note-book +lay open and on the page thus disclosed, she beheld written: + +Ap Lox Fidestum Truhum + +Ridiculous nonsense--until she consulted the code. Then these detached +and meaningless words took on a significance which she could not afford +to ignore: + +Ap A change. +Lox Makes remarkable statements. +Fidestum Shall we return? +Trubum Not tractable. + +Carmel endeavoured to find out for whom this telegram was intended. +There was nothing to inform her. A moment of indecision was followed by +quick action. She had noticed that she had been invariably addressed as +Miss Campbell by every one who had come into the room. Whether this was +a proof of the care with which she had been guarded from the curiosity +of strangers, or whether it was part of a system of deception springing +from quite different causes, she felt that in the present emergency it +was a fact to be thankful for and to be utilised. + +Regaining her own room, which was on the other side of their common +sitting-room, she collected a few necessary articles, and placed them +in a bag which she thrust under her bed. Hunting for money, she found +quite an adequate amount in her own purse, which was attached to her +person. Satisfied thus far, she chose her most inconspicuous hat and +coat, and putting them on, went out by her own door into the corridor. + +The time--it was the dinner-hour--favoured her attempt. She found her +way to the office unobserved, and, going frankly up to the clerk, +informed him that she had some telegrams to send and that she would +be out for some little time. Would he see that Miss Huckins was not +neglected in her absence? + +The clerk, startled at these evidences of sense and self-reliance in +one he had been accustomed to see under the special protection of the +very woman she was now confiding to his care, surveyed her eloquent +features beaming with quiet resolve, and for a moment seemed at a loss +how to take this change and control the strange situation. Perhaps she +understood him, perhaps she only followed the impulses natural to her +sex. She never knew; she only remembers that she smiled, and that his +hesitation vanished at that smile. + +“I will see to it,” said he. Then, as she turned to go, he ventured +to add, “It is quite dark now. If you would like one of the boys to +go with you--”. But he received no encouragement, and allowed his +suggestion to remain unfinished. + +She looked grateful for this, and was pulling down her veil when she +perceived two or three men on the other side of the room, watching her +in evident wonder. Stepping back to the desk, she addressed the clerk +again, this time with a marked distinctness: + +“I have been very ill, I know, and not always quite myself. But the +shock of this accident to my nurse has cleared my brain and made me +capable again of attending to my own affairs. You can trust me; I can +do my errands all right; but perhaps I had better have one of the boys +go with me.” + +The clerk, greatly relieved, rang his bell, and the gentlemen at the +other end of the room sauntered elsewhere to exchange their impressions +of an incident which was remarkable enough in itself, without the +accentuation put upon it by the extreme beauty of the girl and the +one conspicuous blemish to that beauty--her unfortunate scar. With +what additional wonder would they have regarded the occurrence, had +they known that the object of their interest was not an unknown Miss +Campbell, but the much pitied, much talked-of Carmel Cumberland, sister +of the man then on trial for his life in a New York town. + +With her first step into the street, Carmel’s freshly freed mind began +its work. She knew she was in a place called Lakewood, but she knew +little of its location, save that it was somewhere in New Jersey. +Another strange thing! she did not recognise the streets. They were new +to her. She did not remember ever having been in them before. + +“Where is the railroad station?” she inquired of the boy who was +trotting along at her side. + +“Over there,” he answered, vaguely. + +“Take me to it.” + +He obeyed, and they threaded several streets whose lighted shops +pleased her, notwithstanding her cares; such a joy it was to be +alive to things once more, and capable of remembrance, even though +remembrance brought visions at which she shuddered, and turned away, +appalled. + +The sight of the station, from which a train was just leaving, +frightened her for a moment with its bustle and many lights; but she +rallied under the stress of her purpose, and, entering, found the +telegraph office, from which she sent this message, directed to her +physician, at home, Dr. Carpenter: + +“Look for me on early train. All is clear to me now, and I must return. +Preserve silence till we meet.” + +This she signed with a pet name, known only to themselves, and dating +back to her childish days. + +Then she bought a ticket, and studied the time-table. When quite +satisfied, she returned to the hotel. She was met in the doorway by the +physician who was attending the so-called Miss Huckins. He paused when +he saw her, and asked a few questions which she was penetrating enough +to perceive were more for the purpose of testing her own condition +than to express interest in his patient. She answered quietly, and +was met by a surprise and curiosity which evinced that he was greatly +drawn towards her case. This alarmed her. She did not wish to be the +object of any one’s notice. On the contrary, she desired to obliterate +herself; to be counted out so far as all these people were concerned. +But above all, she was anxious not to rouse suspicion. So she stopped +and talked as naturally as she could about Miss Huckins’s accident +and what the prospects were for the night. These were favourable, or +so the doctor declared, but the injured woman’s condition called for +great care and he would send over a capable nurse at once. Meanwhile, +the maid who was with her would do very well. She, herself, need have +no worry. He would advise against worry, and suggested that she should +have a good and nourishing dinner sent to her room, after which she +should immediately retire and get what sleep she could by means of an +anodyne he would send her. + +Carmel exerted herself. + +“You are very good,” said she, “I need no anodyne. I _am_ tired and +when I once get to bed shall certainly sleep. I shall give orders not +to be disturbed. Isn’t that right?” + +“Quite right. I will myself tell the nurse.” + +He was going, but turned to look at her again. + +“Shall I accompany you to the door of your room?” he asked. + +She shook her head, with a smile. This delay was a torment to her, but +it must be endured. + +“I am quite capable of finding my room. I hope Miss Huckins will be +as well in a week from now as I am at this moment. But, doctor--” she +had been struck by a strange possibility--“I should like to settle one +little matter before we part. The money I have may not be quite safe in +my hands. My memory might leave me again, and then Miss Huckins might +suffer. If you will take charge of some of it on her account, I shall +feel relieved.” + +“It would be a wise precaution,” he admitted. “But you could just as +well leave it at the desk.” + +“So I can,” she smiled. Then, as his eye remained fixed on her: “You +are wondering if I have friends. We both have and I have just come +from telegraphing to one of them. You can leave us, with an easy mind. +All that I dread is that Miss Huckins will worry about me if her +consciousness should return during the night.” + +“It will not return so soon. Next week we may look for it. Then you can +be by to reassure her if she asks for you.” + +Carmers eyes fell. + +“I would not be a cause of distress to her for the world. She has been +very good to me.” Bowing, she turned in the direction of the office. + +The doctor, lifting his hat, took his departure. The interview might +have lasted five minutes. She felt as though it had lasted an hour. + +She followed the doctor’s advice and left half the money she had, in +charge of the clerk. Then she went upstairs. She was not seen to come +down again; but when the eight-forty-five train started out of the +station that night, it had for a passenger, a young, heavily veiled +girl, who went straight to her section. A balcony running by her window +had favoured her escape. It led to a hall window at the head of a side +staircase. She met no one on the staircase, and, once out of the door +at its foot, her difficulties were over, and her escape effected. + +She was missed the next morning, and an account of her erratic flight +reached the papers, and was published far and wide. But the name of +Miss Caroline Campbell conveyed nothing to the public, and the great +trial went on without a soul suspecting the significance of this +midnight flitting of an unknown and partially demented girl. + +At the house of Dr. Carpenter she met Mr. Moffat. What she told him +heartened him greatly for the struggle he saw before him. Indeed, it +altered the whole tone of the defence. Perceiving from her story, +and from what the doctor could tell him of their meeting at the +station that her return to town was as yet a secret to every one but +themselves, he begged that the secret should continue to be kept, in +order that the _coup d’etat_ which he meditated might lose none of +its force by anticipation. Carmel, whose mind was full of her coming +ordeal, was willing enough to hide her head until it came; while Dr. +Carpenter, alarmed at all this excitement, would have insisted on it in +any event. + +Carmel wished her brother informed of her return, but the wily lawyer +persuaded her to excuse him from taking Arthur into his confidence +until the last moment. He knew that he would receive only opposition +from his young and stubborn client; that Carmel’s presence and +Carmel’s determination would have to be sprung upon Arthur even +more than upon the prosecution; that the prisoner at the bar would +struggle to the very last against Carmel’s appearance in court, and +make an infinite lot of trouble, if he did not actually endanger his +own cause. One of the stipulations which he had made in securing +Mr. Moffat for his counsel was that Carmel’s name was to be kept as +much as possible out of the proceedings; and to this Mr. Moffat had +subscribed, notwithstanding his conviction that the crime laid to the +defendant’s charge was a result of Ranelagh’s passion for Carmel, and, +consequently, distinctly the work of Ranelagh’s own hand. + +He had thought that he could win his case by the powers of oratory and +a somewhat free use of innuendo; but his view changed under the fresh +enlightenment which he received in his conversation with Carmel. He +saw unfolding before him a defence of unparalleled interest. True, it +involved this interesting witness in a way that would be unpleasant +to the brother; but he was not the man to sacrifice a client to any +sentimental scruple--certainly not this client, whose worth he was just +beginning to realise. Professional pride, as well as an inherent love +of justice, led him to this conclusion. Nothing in God’s world appealed +to him, or ever had appealed to him, like a prisoner in the dock facing +a fate from which only legal address, added to an orator’s eloquence, +could save him. His sympathies went out to a man so placed, even when +he was a brute and his guilt far from doubtful. How much more, then, +must he feel the claims of this surly but chivalrous-hearted boy, +son of a good father and pious mother, who had been made the butt of +circumstances, and of whose innocence he was hourly becoming more and +more convinced. + +Could he have probed the whole matter, examined and re-examined this +new witness until every detail was his and the whole story of that +night stood bare before him, he might have hesitated a little longer +and asked himself some very serious questions. But Carmel was not +strong enough for much talk. Dr. Carpenter would not allow it, and the +continued clearness of her mind was too invaluable to his case for this +far-seeing advocate to take any risk. She had told him enough to assure +him that circumstances and not guilt had put Arthur where he was, +and had added to the assurance, details of an unexpected nature--so +unexpected, indeed, that the lawyer was led away by the prospect they +offered of confounding the prosecution by a line of defence to which no +clew had been given by anything that had appeared. + +He planned then and there a dramatic climax which should take the +breath away from his opponent, and change the whole feeling of the +court towards the prisoner. It was a glorious prospect, and if the girl +remained well--the bare possibility of her not doing so, drove him +prematurely from her presence; and so it happened that, for the second +time, the subject of Adelaide’s death was discussed in her hearing +without any mention being made of strangulation as its immediate cause. +Would her action have been different had she known that this was a +conceded fact? + +Mr. Moffat did not repeat this visit. He was not willing to risk his +secret by being seen too often at the doctor’s house; but telephonic +communication was kept up between him and her present guardian, and +he was able to bear himself quietly and with confidence until the +time drew near for the introduction of her testimony. Then he grew +nervous, fearing that Nurse Unwin would come to herself and telegraph +Carmel’s escape, and so prepare the prosecution for his great stroke. +But nothing of the kind happened; and, when the great day came, he had +only to consider how he should prepare Arthur for the surprise awaiting +him, and finally decided not to prepare him at all, but simply to state +at the proper moment, and in the face of the whole court-room, that +his sister had recovered and would soon take her place upon the stand. +The restraint of the place would thus act as a guard between them, +and Carmel’s immediate entrance put an end to the reproaches of whose +bitterness he could well judge from his former experience of them. + +With all these anxieties and his deeply planned _coup d’etat_ awaiting +the moment of action, Ella’s simple outburst and even Ranelagh’s +unexpected and somewhat startling suggestion lost much of their +significance. All his mind and heart were on his next move. It was to +be made with the queen, and must threaten checkmate. Yet he did not +forget the two pawns, silent in their places--but guarding certain +squares which the queen, for all her royal prerogatives, might not be +able to reach. + + + + +BOOK FOUR + +WHAT THE PINES WHISPERED + + + + +XXIX + +“I REMEMBERED THE ROOM” + +MERCURY.--If thou mightst dwell among the Gods the while + Lapped in voluptuous joy? + +PROMETHEUS.--I would not quit + This bleak ravine, these unrepentant pains. + +_Prometheus Unbound_. + + +Great moments, whether of pain, surprise, or terror, awaken in the +startled breast very different emotions from those we are led to +anticipate from the agitation caused by lesser experiences. As Carmel +disclosed her features to the court, my one absorbing thought was: +Would she look at me? Could I hope for a glance of her eye? Did I wish +it? My question was answered before Mr. Moffat had regained his place +and turned to address the court. + +As her gaze passed from her brother’s face, it travelled slowly and +with growing hesitation over the countenances of those near her, on and +on past the judge, past the jury, until they reached the spot where I +sat. There they seemed to falter, and the beating of my heart became so +loud that I instinctively shrank away from my neighbour. By so doing, +I drew her eye, which fell full upon mine for one overwhelming minute; +then she shrank and looked away, but not before the colour had risen in +a flood to her cheek. + +The hope which had sprung to life under her first beautiful aspect, +vanished in despair at sight of this flush. For it was not one of +joy, or surprise, or even of unconscious sympathy. It was the banner +of a deep, unendurable shame. Versed in her every expression, I could +not mistake the language of her dismayed soul, at this, the most +critical instant of her life. She had hoped to find me absent; she was +overwhelmed to find me there. Could she, with a look, have transported +me a thousand miles from this scene of personal humiliation and +unknown, unimaginable outcome, she would have bestowed that look and +ignored the consequences. + +Nor was I behind her in the reckless passion of the moment. Could I, by +means of a wish, have been transported those thousand miles, I should +even now have been far from a spot where, in the face of a curious +crowd, busy in associating us together, I must submit to the terror of +hearing her speak and betray herself to these watchful lawyers, and to +the just and impartial mind of the presiding judge. + +But the days of magic had passed. I could not escape the spot; I could +not escape her eye. The ordeal to which she was thus committed, I must +share. As she advanced step by step upon her uncertain road, it would +be my unhappy fate to advance with her, in terror of the same pitfalls, +with our faces set towards the same precipice--slipping, fainting, +experiencing agonies together. She knew my secret, and I, alas! knew +hers. So I interpreted this intolerable, overwhelming blush. + +Recoiling from the prospect, I buried my face in my hands, and so +missed the surprising sight of this young girl, still in her teens, +conquering a dismay which might well unnerve one of established years +and untold experiences. In a few minutes, as I was afterward told by my +friends, her features had settled into a strange placidity, undisturbed +by the levelled gaze of a hundred eyes. Her whole attention was +concentrated on her brother, and wavered only, when the duties of the +occasion demanded a recognition of the various gentlemen concerned in +the trial. + +Mr. Moffat prefaced his examination by the following words: + +“May it please your Honour, I wish to ask the indulgence of the court +in my examination of this witness. She is just recovering from a long +and dangerous illness; and while I shall endeavour to keep within the +rules of examination, I shall be grateful for any consideration which +may be shown her by your Honour and by the counsel on the other side.” + +Mr. Fox at once rose. He had by this time recovered from his +astonishment at seeing before him, and in a fair state of health, +the young girl whom he had every reason to believe to be still in a +condition of partial forgetfulness at Lakewood, and under the care +of a woman entirely in his confidence and under his express orders. +He had also mastered his chagrin at the triumph which her presence +here, and under these dramatic circumstances, had given his adversary. +Moved, perhaps, by Miss Cumberland’s beauty, which he saw for the first +time--or, perhaps, by the spectacle of this beauty devoting its first +hours of health to an attempt to save a brother, of whose precarious +position before the law she had been ignorant up to this time--or more +possibly yet, by a fear that it might be bad tactics to show harshness +to so interesting a personality before she had uttered a word of +testimony, he expressed in warmer tones than usual, his deep desire to +extend every possible indulgence. + +Mr. Moffat bowed his acknowledgments, and waited for his witness +to take the oath, which she did with a simple grace which touched +all hearts, even that of her constrained and unreconciled brother. +Compelled by the silence and my own bounding pulses to look at her in +my own despite, I caught the sweet and elevated look with which she +laid her hand on the Book, and asked myself if her presence here was +not a self-accusation, which would bring satisfaction to nobody--which +would sink her and hers into an ignominy worse than the conviction of +the brother whom she was supposedly there to save. + +Tortured by this fear, I awaited events in indescribable agitation. + +The cool voice of Mr. Moffat broke in upon my gloom. Carmel had +reseated herself, after taking the oath, and the customary question +could be heard: + +“Your name, if you please.” + +“Carmel Cumberland.” + +“Do you recognise the prisoner, Miss Cumberland?” + +“Yes; he is my brother.” + +A thrill ran through the room. The lingering tone, the tender accent, +told. Some of the feeling she thus expressed seemed to pass into every +heart which contemplated the two. From this moment on, he was looked +upon with less harshness; people showed a disposition to discern +innocence, where, perhaps, they had secretly desired, until now, to +discover guilt. + +“Miss Cumberland, will you be good enough to tell us where you were, at +or near the hour of ten, on the evening of your sister’s death?” + +“I was in the club-house--in the house you call The Whispering Pines.” + +At this astounding reply, unexpected by every one present save myself +and the unhappy prisoner, incredulity, seasoned with amazement, marked +every countenance. Carmel Cumberland in the club-house that night--she +who had been found at a late hour, in her own home, injured and +unconscious! It was not to be believed--or it would not have been, if +Arthur with less self-control than he had hitherto maintained, had not +shown by his morose air and the silent drooping of his head that he +accepted this statement, wild and improbable as it seemed. Mr. Fox, +whose mind without doubt had been engaged in a debate from the first, +as to the desirability of challenging the testimony of this young girl, +whose faculties had so lately recovered from a condition of great +shock and avowed forgetfulness that no word as yet had come to him of +her restored health, started to arise at her words; but noting the +prisoner’s attitude, he hastily reseated himself, realising, perhaps, +that evidence of which he had never dreamed lay at the bottom of the +client’s manner and the counsel’s complacency. If so, then his own air +of mingled disbelief and compassionate forbearance might strike the +jury unfavourably; while, on the contrary, if his doubts were sound, +and the witness were confounding the fancies of her late delirium with +the actual incidents of this fatal night, then would he gain rather +than lose by allowing her to proceed until her testimony fell of its +own weight, or succumbed before the fire of his cross-examination. + +Modifying his manner, he steadied himself for either exigency, and, in +steadying himself, steadied his colleagues also. + +Mr. Moffat, who saw everything, smiled slightly as he spoke +encouragingly to his witness, and propounded his next question: + +“Miss Cumberland, was your sister with you when you went to the +club-house?” + +“No; we went separately” + +“How? Will you explain?” + +“I drove there. I don’t know how Adelaide went.” + +“You drove there?” + +“Yes. I had Arthur harness up his horse for me and I drove there.” + +A moment of silence; then a slow awakening--on the part of judge, jury, +and prosecution--to the fact that the case was taking a turn for which +they were ill-prepared. To Mr. Moffat, it was a moment of intense +self-congratulation, and something of the gratification he felt crept +into his voice as he said: + +“Miss Cumberland, will you describe this horse?” + +“It was a grey horse. It has a large black spot on its left shoulder.” + +“To what vehicle was it attached?” + +“To a cutter--my brother’s cutter.” + +“Was that brother with you? Did he accompany you in your ride to The +Whispering Pines?” + +“No, I went quite alone.” + +Entrancement had now seized upon every mind. Even if her testimony were +not true, but merely the wanderings of a mind not fully restored, the +interest of it was intense. Mr. Fox, glancing at the jury, saw there +would be small use in questioning at this time the mental capacity of +the witness. This was a story which all wished to hear. Perhaps he +wished to hear it, too. + +Mr. Moffat rose to more than his accustomed height. The light which +sometimes visited his face when feeling, or a sense of power, was +strongest in him, shone from his eye and irradiated his whole aspect as +he inquired tellingly: + +“And how did you return? With whom, and by what means, did you regain +your own house?” + +The answer came, with simple directness: + +“In the same way I went. I drove back in my brother’s cutter and being +all alone just as before, I put the horse away myself, and went into my +empty home and up to Adelaide’s room, where I lost consciousness.” + +The excitement, which had been seething, broke out as she ceased; but +the judge did not need to use his gavel, or the officers of the court +exert their authority. At Mr. Moffat’s lifted hand, the turmoil ceased +as if by magic. + +“Miss Cumberland, do you often ride out alone on nights like that?” + +“I never did before. I would not have dared to do it then, if I had not +taken a certain precaution.” + +“And what was this precaution?” + +“I wore an old coat of my brother’s over my dress, and one of his hats +on my head.” + +It was out--the fact for the suppression of which I had suffered arrest +without a word; because of which Arthur had gone even further, and +submitted to trial with the same constancy. Instinctively, his eyes +and mine met, and, at that moment, there was established between us an +understanding that was in strong contrast to the surrounding turmoil, +which now exceeded all limits, as the highly wrought up spectators +realised that these statements, if corroborated, destroyed one of the +strongest points which had been made by the prosecution. This caused +a stay in the proceedings until order was partially restored, and the +judge’s voice could be heard in a warning that the court-room would be +cleared of all spectators if this break of decorum was repeated. + +Meanwhile, my own mind had been busy. I had watched Arthur; I had +watched Mr. Moffat. The discouragement of the former, the ill-concealed +elation of the latter, proved the folly of any hope, on my part, that +Carmel would be spared a full explanation of what I would have given +worlds to leave in the darkness and ignorance of the present moment. To +save Arthur, unwilling as he was, she was to be allowed to consummate +the sacrifice which the real generosity of her heart drove her into +making. Before these doors opened again and sent forth the crowd +now pulsating under a preamble of whose terrible sequel none as yet +dreamed, I should have to hear those sweet lips give utterance to the +revelation which would consign her to opprobrium, and break, not only +my heart, but her brother’s. + +Was there no way to stop it? The district attorney gave no evidence +of suspecting any issue of this sort, nor did the friendly and humane +judge. Only the scheming Moffat knew to what all this was tending, +and Moffat could not be trusted. The case was his and he would gain +it if he could. Tender and obliging as he was in his treatment of the +witness, there was iron under the velvet of his glove. This was his +reputation; and this I must now see exemplified before me, without +the power to stop it. The consideration with which he approached his +subject did not deceive me. + +“Miss Cumberland, will you now give the jury the full particulars +of that evening’s occurrences, as witnessed by yourself. Begin your +relation, if you please, with an account of the last meal you had +together.” + +Carmel hesitated. Her youth--her conscience, perhaps--shrank in +manifest distress from this inquisition. + +“Ask me a question,” she prayed. “I do not know how to begin.” + +“Very well. Who were seated at the dinner-table that night?” + +“My sister, my brother, Mr. Ranelagh, and myself.” + +“Did anything uncommon happen during the meal?” + +“Yes, my sister ordered wine, and had our glasses all filled. She +never drank wine herself, but she had her glass filled also. Then she +dismissed Helen, the waitress; and when the girl was gone, she rose and +held up her glass, and invited us to do the same. ‘We will drink to my +coming marriage,’ said she; but when we had done this, she turned upon +Arthur, with bitter words about his habits, and, declaring that another +bottle of wine should never be opened again in the house, unclosed her +fingers and let her glass drop on the table where it broke. Arthur then +let his fall, and I mine. We all three let our glasses fall and break.” + +“And Mr. Ranelagh?” + +“He did not let his fall. He set it down on the cloth. He had not drank +from it.” + +Clear, perfectly clear--tallying with what we had heard from other +sources. As this fact forced itself in upon the minds of the jury, new +light shone in every eye and each and all waited eagerly for the next +question. + +It came with a quiet, if not insinuating, intonation. + +“Miss Cumberland, where were you looking when you let your glass fall?” + +My heart gave a bound. I remembered that moment well. So did she, as +could be seen from the tremulous flush and the determination with which +she forced herself to speak. + +“At Mr. Ranelagh,” she answered, finally. + +“Not at your brother?” + +“No.” + +“And at whom was Mr. Ranelagh looking?” + +“At--at me.” + +“Not at your sister?” + +“No.” + +“Was anything said?” + +“Not then. With the dropping of the glasses, we all drew back from the +table, and walked towards a little room where we sometimes sat before +going into the library. Arthur went first, and Mr. Ranelagh and I +followed, Adelaide coming last. We--we went this way into the little +room and--what other question do you wish to ask?” she finished, with a +burning blush. + +Mr. Moffat was equal to the appeal. + +“Did anything happen? Did Mr. Ranelagh speak to you or you to him, or +did your sister Adelaide speak?” + +“No one spoke; but Mr. Ranelagh put a little slip of paper into my +hand--a--a note. As he did this, my brother looked round. I don’t know +whether he saw the note or not; but his eye caught mine, and I may +have blushed. Next moment he was looking past me; and presently he had +flung himself out of the room, and I heard him going upstairs. Adelaide +had joined me by this time, and Mr. Ranelagh turned to speak to her, +and--and I went over to the book-shelves to read my note.” + +“And did you read it then?” + +“No, I was afraid. I waited till Mr. Ranelagh was gone; then I went up +to my room and read it. It was not a--a note to be glad of. I mean, +proud of. I’m afraid I was a little glad of it at first. I was a wicked +girl.” + +Mr. Moffat glanced at Mr. Fox; but that gentleman, passing over this +artless expression of feeling, as unworthy an objection, he went +steadily on: + +“Miss Cumberland, before you tell us about this note, will you be good +enough to inform us whether any words passed between you and your +sister before you went upstairs?” + +“Oh, yes; we talked. We all three talked, but it was about indifferent +matters. The servants were going to a ball, and we spoke of that. Mr. +Ranelagh did not stay long. Very soon he remarked that he had a busy +evening before him, and took his leave. I was not in the room with them +when he did this. I was in the adjoining one, but I heard his remark +and saw him go. I did not wait to talk to Adelaide.” + +“Now, about the note?” + +“I read it as soon as I reached my room. Then I sat still for a long +time.” + +“Miss Cumberland, pardon my request, but will you tell us what was in +that note?” + +She lifted her patient eyes, and looked straight at her brother. He +did not meet her gaze; but the dull flush which lit up the dead-white +of his cheek showed how he suffered under this ordeal. At me she never +glanced; this was the only mercy shown me that dreadful morning. I grew +to be thankful for it as she went on. + +“I do not remember the words,” she said, finally, as her eyes fell +again to her lap. “But I remember its meaning. It was an invitation +for me to leave town with him that very evening and be married at +some place he mentioned. He said it would be the best way to--to +end--matters.” + +This brought Mr. Fox to his feet. For all his self-command, he had been +perceptibly growing more and more nervous as the examination proceeded; +and he found himself still in the dark as to his opponent’s purpose and +the character of the revelations he had to fear. Turning to the judge, +he cried: + +“This testimony is irrelevant and incompetent, and I ask to have it +stricken out.” + +Mr. Moffat’s voice, as he arose to answer this, was like honey poured +upon gall. + +“It is neither irrelevant nor incompetent, and, if it were, the +objection comes too late. My friend should have objected to the +question.” + +“The whole course of counsel has been very unusual,” began Mr. Fox. + +“Yes, but so is the case. I beg your Honour to believe that, in some +of its features, this case is not only unusual, but almost without a +precedent. That it may be lightly understood, and justice shown my +client, a full knowledge of the whole family’s experiences during +those fatal hours is not only desirable, but absolutely essential. I +beg, therefore, that my witness may be allowed to proceed and tell her +story in all its details. Nothing will be introduced which will not +ultimately be seen to have a direct bearing upon the attitude of my +client towards the crime for which he stands here arraigned.” + +“The motion is denied,” declared the judge. + +Mr. Fox sat down, to the universal relief of all but the two persons +most interested--Arthur and myself. + +Mr. Moffat, generous enough or discreet enough to take no note of his +opponent’s discomfiture, lifted a paper from the table and held it +towards the witness. + +“Do you recognise these lines?” he asked, placing the remnants of my +half-burned communication in her hands. + +She started at sight of them. Evidently she had never expected to see +them again. + +“Yes,” she answered, after a moment. “This is a portion of the note I +have mentioned.” + +“You recognise it as such?” + +“I do.” + +Her eyes lingered on the scrap, and followed it as it was passed back +and marked as an exhibit. + +Mr. Moffat recalled her to the matter in hand. + +“What did you do next, Miss Cumberland?” + +“I answered the note.” + +“May I ask to what effect?” + +“I refused Mr. Ranelagh’s request. I said that I could not do what he +asked, and told him to wait till the next day, and he would see how I +felt towards him and towards Adelaide. That was all. I could not write +much. I was suffering greatly.” + +“Suffering in mind, or suffering in body?” + +“Suffering in my mind. I was terrified, but that feeling did not last +very long. Soon I grew happy, happier than I had been in weeks, happier +than I had ever been in all my life before. I found that I loved +Adelaide better than I did myself. This made everything easy, even the +sending of the answer I have told you about to Mr. Ranelagh.” + +“Miss Cumberland, how did you get this answer to Mr. Ranelagh?” + +“By means of a gentleman who was going away on the very train I had +been asked to leave on. He was a guest next door, and I carried the +note in to him.” + +“Did you do this openly?” + +“No. I’m afraid not; I slipped out by the side door, in as careful a +way as I could.” + +“Did this attempt at secrecy succeed? Were you able to go and come +without meeting any one?” + +“No. Adelaide was at the head of the stairs when I came back, standing +there, very stiff and quiet.” + +“Did she speak to you?” + +“No. She just looked at me; but it wasn’t a common look. I shall never +forget it.” + +“And what did you do then?” + +“I went to my room.” + +“Miss Cumberland, did you sec anybody else when you came in at this +time?” + +“Yes, our maid Helen. She was just laying down a bunch of keys on +the table in the lower hall. I stopped and looked at the keys. I had +recognised them as the ones I had seen in Mr. Ranelagh’s hands many +times. He had gone, yet there were his keys. One of them unlocked the +club-house. I noticed it among the others, but I didn’t touch it then. +Helen was still in the hall, and I ran straight upstairs, where I met +my sister, as I have just told you.” + +“Miss Cumberland, continue the story. What did you do after re-entering +your room?” + +“I don’t know what I did first. I was very excited--elated one minute, +deeply wretched and very frightened the next. I must have sat down; for +I was shaking very much, and felt a little sick. The sight of that key +had brought up pictures of the club-house; and I thought and thought +how quiet it was, and how far away and--how cold it was too, and how +secret. I would go there for what I had to do; _there_! And then I saw +in my fancy one of its rooms, with the moon in it, and--but I soon shut +my eyes to that. I heard Arthur moving about his room, and this made me +start up and go out into the hall again.” + +During all this Mr. Fox had sat by, understanding his right to object +to the witness’s mixed statements of fact and of feelings, and quite +confident that his objections would be sustained. But he had determined +long since that he would not interrupt the witness in her relation. +The air of patience he assumed was sufficiently indicative of his +displeasure, and he confined himself to this. Mr. Moffat understood, +and testified his appreciation by a slight bow. + +Carmel, who saw nothing, resumed her story. + +“Arthur’s room is near, and Adelaide’s far off; but I went to +Adelaide’s first. Her door was shut and when I went to open it I found +it locked. Calling her name, I said that I was tired and would be glad +to say good night. She did not answer at once. When she did, her voice +was strange, though what she said was very simple. I was to please +myself; she was going to retire, too. And then she tried to say good +night, but she only half said it, like one who is choked with tears +or some other dreadful emotion. I cannot tell you how this made me +feel--but you don’t care for that. You want to know what I did--what +Adelaide did. I will tell you, but I cannot hurry. Every act of the +evening was so crowded with purpose; all meant so much. I can see the +end, but the steps leading to it are not so clear.” + +“Take your time, Miss Cumberland; we have no wish to hurry you.” + +“I can go on now. The next thing I did was to knock at Arthur’s door. I +heard him getting ready to go out, and I wanted to speak to him before +he went. When he heard me, he opened the door and let me in. He began +at once on his grievances, but I could not listen to them. I wanted him +to harness the grey mare for me and leave it standing in the stable. +I explained the request by saying that it was necessary for me to see +a certain friend of mine immediately, and that no one would notice me +in the cutter under the bear-skins. He didn’t approve, but I persuaded +him. I even persuaded him to wait till Zadok was gone, so that Adelaide +would know nothing about it. He looked glum, but he promised. + +“He was going away when I heard Adelaide’s steps in the adjoining room. +This frightened me. The partition is very thin between these two rooms, +and I was afraid she had heard me ask Arthur for the grey mare and +cutter. I could hear her rattling the bottles in the medicine cabinet +hanging on this very wall. Looking back at Arthur, I asked him how +long Adelaide had been there. He said, ‘For some time.’ This sent me +flying from the room. I would join her, and find out if she had heard. +But I was too late. As I stepped into the hall I saw her disappearing +round the corner leading to her own room. This convinced me that she +had heard nothing, and, light of heart once more, I went back to my +own room, where I collected such little articles as I needed for the +expedition before me. + +“I had hardly done this when I heard the servants on the walk outside, +then Arthur going down. The impulse to see and speak to him again +was irresistible. I flew after him and caught him in the lower hall. +‘Arthur,’ I cried, ‘look at me, look at me well, and then--kiss me!’ +And he did kiss me--I’m glad when I think of it, though he did say, +next minute: ‘What is the matter with you? What are you going to do? To +meet that villain?’ + +“I looked straight into his face. I waited till I saw I had his whole +attention; then I said, as slowly and emphatically as I could: ‘If you +mean Elwood--no! I shall never meet him again, except in Adelaide’s +presence. He will not want to meet me. You may be at ease about that. +To-morrow all will be well, and Adelaide very happy,’ + +“He shrugged his shoulders, and reached for his coat and hat. As he +was putting them on, I said, ‘Don’t forget to harness up Jenny.’ Jenny +is the grey mare. ‘And leave off the bells,’ I urged. ‘I don’t want +Adelaide to hear me go out.’ + +“He swung about at this. ‘You and Adelaide are not very good friends +it seems.’ ‘As good as you and she are,’ I answered. Then I flung my +arms about him. ‘Don’t go down street to-night,’ I prayed. ‘Stay home +for this one night. Stay in the house with Adelaide; stay till I come +home.’ He stared, and I saw his colour change. Then he flung me off, +but not rudely. ‘Why don’t _you_ stay?’ he asked. Then he laughed, and +added, ‘I’ll go harness the mare.’ + +“‘The key’s in the kitchen,’ I said. ‘I’ll go get it for you. I heard +Zadok bring it in.’ He did not answer, and I went for the key. I found +two on the nail, and I brought them both; but I only handed him one, +the key to the stable-door. ‘Which way are you going?’ I asked, as he +looked at the key, then back towards the kitchen. ‘The short way, of +course,’ ‘Then here’s the key to the Fulton grounds,’ + +“As he took the key, I prayed again, ‘Don’t do what’s in your mind, +Arthur. Don’t drink to-night. He only laughed, and I said my last word: +‘If you do, it will be for the last time. You’ll never drink again +after to-morrow.’ + +“He made no answer to this, and I went slowly upstairs. Everything was +quiet--quiet as death--in the whole house. If Adelaide had heard us, +she made no sign. Going to my own room, I waited until I heard Arthur +come out of the stable and go away by the door in the rear wall. Then I +stole out again. I carried a small bag with me, but no coat or hat. + +“Pausing and listening again and again, I crept downstairs and halted +at the table under the rack. The keys were still there. Putting them +in my bag, I searched the rack for one of my brother’s warm coats. +But I took none I saw. I remembered an old one which Adelaide had put +away in the closet under the stairs. Getting this, I put it on, and, +finding a hat there too, I took that also; and when I had pulled it +over my forehead and drawn up the collar of the coat, I was quite +unrecognisable. I was going out, when I remembered there would be +no light in the club-house. I had put a box of matches in my bag +while I was upstairs, but I needed a candle. Slipping back, I took +a candlestick and candle from the dining-room mantel, and finding +that the bag would not hold them, thrust them into the pocket of the +coat I wore, and quickly left the house. Jenny was in the stable, all +harnessed; and hesitating no longer, I got in among the bear-skins and +drove swiftly away.” + +There was a moment’s silence. Carmel had paused, and was sitting with +her hand on her heart, looking past judge, past jury, upon the lonely +and desolate scene in which she at this moment moved and suffered. An +inexpressible fatality had entered into her tones, always rich and +resonant with feeling. No one who listened could fail to share the +dread by which she was moved. + +District Attorney Fox fumbled with his papers, and endeavoured to +maintain his equanimity and show an indifference which his stern but +fascinated glances at the youthful witness amply belied. He was biding +his time, but biding it in decided perturbation of mind. Neither he +nor any one else, unless it were Moffat, could tell whither this tale +tended. While she held the straight course which had probably been +laid out for her, he failed to object; but he could not prevent the +subtle influence of her voice, her manner, and her supreme beauty on +the entranced jury. Nevertheless, his pencil was busy; he was still +sufficiently master of himself for that. + +Mr. Moffat, quite aware of the effect which was being produced on every +side, but equally careful to make no show of it, put in a commonplace +question at this point, possibly to rouse the witness from her own +abstraction, possibly to restore the judicial tone of the inquiry. + +“How did you leave the stable-door?” + +“Open.” + +“Can you tell us what time it was when you started?” + +“No. I did not look. Time meant nothing to me. I drove as fast as I +could, straight down the hill, and out towards The Whispering Pines. I +had seen Adelaide in her window as I went flying by the house, but not +a soul on the road, nor a sign of life, near or far. The whistle of a +train blew as I stopped in the thicket near the club-house door. If it +was the express train, you can tell--” + +“Never mind the _if_” said Mr. Moffat. “It is enough that you heard the +whistle. Go on with what you did.” + +“I tied up my horse; then I went into the house. I had used Mr. +Ranelagh’s key to open the door and for some reason I took it out of +the lock when I got in, and put the whole bunch back into my satchel. +But I did not lock the door. Then I lit my candle and then--I went +upstairs.” + +Fainter and fainter the words fell, and slower and slower heaved the +youthful breast under her heavily pressing palm. Mr. Moffat made a +sign across the court-room, and I saw Dr. Carpenter get up and move +nearer to the witness stand. But she stood in no need of his help. In +an instant her cheek flushed; the eye I watched with such intensity of +wonder that apprehension unconsciously left me, rose, glowed, and fixed +itself at last--not on the judge, not on the prisoner, not even on that +prisoner’s counsel--but on _me_; and as the soft light filled my soul +and awoke awe, where it had hitherto awakened passion, she quietly said: + +“There is a room upstairs, in the club-house, where I have often been +with Adelaide. It has a fireplace in it, and I had seen a box there, +half filled with wood the day before. This is the room I went to, and +here I built a fire. When it was quite bright, I took out something I +had brought in my satchel, and thrust it into the flame. Then I got up +and walked away. I--I did not feel very strong, and sank on my knees +when I got to the couch, and buried my face in my arms. But I felt +better when I came back to the fire again, and very brave till I caught +a glimpse of my face in the mirror over the mantelpiece. That--that +unnerved me, and I think I screamed. Some one screamed, and I think it +was I. I know my hands went out--I saw them in the glass; then they +fell straight down at my side, and I looked and looked at myself till I +saw all the terror go out of my face, and when it was quite calm again, +I stooped down and pulled out the little tongs I had been heating +in the fire, and laid them quick--quick, before I could be sorry +again--right across my cheek, and then--” + +Uproar in the court. If she had screamed when she said she did, so +some one cried out loudly now. I think that pitiful person was myself. +They say I had been standing straight up in my place for the last two +minutes. + + + + +XXX + +“CHOOSE” + +Let me have +A dram of poison; such soon speeding geer +As will disperse itself through all the veins, +That the life-weary taker may fall dead. + +Come, bitter conduct, come unsavoury guide! +Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on +The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark. + +_Romeo and Juliet_ + + +“I have not finished,” were the first words we heard, when order was +restored, and we were all in a condition to listen again. + +“I had to relate what you have just heard, that you might understand +what happened next. I was not used to pain, and I could never have +kept on pressing those irons to my cheek if I had not had the strength +given me by my own reflection in the glass. When I thought the burn was +quite deep enough, I tore the tongs away, and was lifting them to the +other cheek when I saw the door behind me open, inch by inch, as though +pushed by hesitating touches. + +“Instantly, I forgot my pain, almost my purpose, watching that door. I +saw it slowly swing to its full width, and disclose my sister standing +in the gap, with a look and in an attitude which terrified me more than +the fire had done. Dropping the tongs, I turned and faced her, covering +my cheek instinctively with my hand. + +“I saw her eyes run over my elaborate dinner dress--my little hand-bag, +and the candle burning in a room made warm with a fire on the hearth. +This, before she spoke a single word. Then, with a deep labouring +breath, she looked me in the eye again, with the simple question: + +“‘And where is he?’” + +Carmel’s head had drooped at this, but she raised it almost instantly. +Mine did not rise so readily. + +“‘Do you mean Elwood?’ I asked. ‘You know!’ said she. ‘The veil is down +between us, Carmel; we will speak plainly now. I saw him give you the +letter. I heard you ask Arthur to harness up the horse. I have demeaned +myself to follow you, and we will have no subterfuges now. You expect +him here?’ + +“‘No,’ I cried. ‘I am not so bad as that, Adelaide--nor is he. Here +is the note. You will see by it what he expects, and at what place I +should have joined him, if I had been the selfish creature you think,’ +I had the note hidden in my breast. I took it out, and held it towards +her. I did not feel the burn at all, but I kept it covered. She glanced +down at the words; and I felt like falling at her feet, she looked so +miserable. I am told that I must keep to fact, and must not express my +feelings, or those of others. I will try to remember this; but it is +hard for a sister, relating such a frightful scene. + +“She glanced down at the paper and let it drop, almost immediately, +from her hand, ‘I cannot read his words!’ she cried; ‘I do not need to; +we both know which of us he loves best. You cannot say that it is I, +his engaged wife.’ I was silent, and her face took on an awful pallor. +‘Carmel,’ said she, ‘do you know what this man’s love has been to me? +You are a child, a warm-hearted and passionate child; but you do not +know a woman’s heart. Certainly, you do not know mine. I doubt if any +one does--even he. Cares have warped my life. I do not quarrel with +these cares; I only say that they have robbed me of what makes girlhood +lovely. Duty is a stern task-master; and sternness, coming early into +one’s life, hardens its edges, but does not sap passion from the soul +or devotion from the heart. I was ready for joy when it came, but I +was no longer capable of bestowing it. I thought I was, but I soon saw +my mistake. You showed it to me--you with your beauty, your freshness, +your warm and untried heart. I have no charms to rival these; I have +only love, such love as you cannot dream of at your age. And _this_ is +no longer desirable to him!’ + +“You see that I remember every word she spoke. They burned more +fiercely than the iron. That did not burn at all, just then. I was cold +instead--bitterly, awfully cold. My very heart seemed frozen, and the +silence was dreadful. But I could not speak, I could not answer her. + +“‘You have everything,’ she now went on. ‘Why did you rob me of my one +happiness? And you have robbed me. I have seen your smile when his head +turned your way. It was the smile which runs before a promise. I know +it; I have had that smile in my heart a long, long time--but it never +reached my lips. Carmel, do you know why I am here?’ I shook my head. +Was it her teeth that were chattering or mine? ‘I am here to end it +all,’ said she. ‘With my hope gone, my heart laid waste, life has no +prospect for me. I believe in God, and I know that my act is sinful; +but I can no more live than can a tree stricken at the root. To-morrow +he will not need to write notes; he can come and comfort you in our +home. But never let him look at me. As we are sisters, and I almost a +mother to you, shut my face away from his eyes--or I shall rise in my +casket and the tangle of our lives will be renewed.’ + +“I tell you this--I bare my sister’s broken heart to you, giving you +her very words, sacred as they are to me and--and to others, who are +present, and must listen to all I say--because it is right that you +should understand her frenzy, and know all that passed between us in +that awful hour.” + +This was irregular, highly irregular--but District Attorney Fox sat +on, unmoved. Possibly he feared to prejudice the jury; possibly +he recognised the danger of an interruption now, not only to the +continuity of her testimony, but to the witness herself; or--what +is just as likely--possibly he cherished a hope that, in giving her +a free rein and allowing her to tell her story thus artlessly, she +would herself supply the clew he needed to reconstruct his case on the +new lines upon which it was being slowly forced by these unexpected +revelations. Whatever the cause, he let these expressions of feeling +pass. + +At a gesture from Mr. Moffat, Carmel proceeded: + +“I tottered at this threat; and she, a mother to me from my cradle, +started instinctively to catch me; but the feeling left her before +she had taken two steps, and she stopped still. ‘Drop your hand,’ +she cried. ‘I want to see your whole face while I ask you one last +question. I could not read the note. Why did you come _here?_ I dropped +my hand, and she stood staring; then she uttered a cry and ran quickly +towards me. ‘What is it?’ she cried. ‘What has happened to you? Is it +the shadow or--’ + +“I caught her by the hand. I could speak now. ‘Adelaide,’ said I, +‘you are not the only one to love to the point of hurt. I love _you_. +Let this little scar be witness,’ Then, as her eyes opened and she +staggered, I caught her to my breast and hid my face on her shoulder. +‘You say that to-morrow I shall be free to receive notes. He will +not wish to write them, tomorrow. The beauty he liked is gone. If it +weighed overmuch with him, then you and I are on a plane again--or I am +on an inferior one. Your joy will be sweeter for this break!’ + +“She started, raised my head from her shoulder, looked at me and +shuddered--but no longer with hate. ‘Carmel!’ she whispered, ‘the +story--the story I read you of Francis the First and--’ + +“‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘that made me think,’ Her knees bent under her; she +sank at my feet, but her eyes never left my face. ‘And--and Elwood?’ +‘He knows nothing. I did not make up my mind till to-night. Adelaide, +it had to be. I hadn’t the strength to--to leave you all, or--or to say +no, if he ever asked me to my face what he asked me in that note,’ + +“And then I tried to lift her; but she was kissing my feet, kissing my +dress, sobbing out her life on my hands. Oh, I was happy! My future +looked very simple to me. But my cheek began to burn, and instinctively +I put up my hand. This brought her to her feet. ‘You are suffering,’ +she cried. ‘You must go home, at once, at once, while I telephone to +Dr. Carpenter,’ ‘We will go together,’ I said. ‘We can telephone from +there.’ But at this, the awful look came back into her face, and seeing +her forget my hurt, I forgot it, too, in dread of what she would say +when she found strength to speak. + +“It was worse than anything I had imagined; she refused absolutely to +go back home. ‘Carmel,’ said she, ‘I have done injustice to your youth. +You love him, too--not like a child but a woman. The tangle is worse +than I thought; your heart is caught in it, as well as mine, and you +shall have your chance. My death will give it to you.’ I shook my head, +pointing to my cheek. She shook hers, and quietly, calmly said, ‘You +have never looked so beautiful. Should we go back together and take +up the old life, the struggle which has undermined my conscience and +my whole existence would only begin again. I cannot face that ordeal, +Carmel. The morning light would bring me daily torture, the evening +dusk a night of blasting dreams. We three cannot live in this world +together. I am the least loved and so I should be the one to die. I am +determined, Carmel. Life, with me, has come to this.’ + +“I tried to dissuade her. I urged every plea, even that of my own +sacrifice. But she was no more her natural self. She had taken up the +note and read it during my entreaties, and my words fell on deaf ears. +‘Why, these words have killed me,’ she cried crumpling the note in her +hand. ‘What will a little poison do? It can only finish what he has +begun.’ + +“Poison! I remembered how I had heard her pushing about bottles in +the medicine cabinet, and felt my legs grow weak and my head swim. +‘You will not!’ I cried, watching her hand, in terror of seeing it +rise to her breast. ‘You are crazed to-night; to-morrow you will feel +differently.’ + +“But the fixed set look of her bleak face gave me no hope. ‘I shall +never feel differently. If I do not end it to-night, I shall do so +soon. When a heart like mine goes down, it goes down forever,’ I could +only shudder. I did not know what to do, or which way to turn. She +stood between me and the door, and her presence was terrible. ‘When I +came here,’ she said, ‘I brought a bottle of cordial with me and three +glasses. I brought a little phial of poison too, once ordered for +sickness. I expected to find Elwood here. If I had, I meant to drop +the poison into one glass, and then fill them all up with the cordial. +We should have drunk, each one of us his glass, and one of us would +have fallen. I did not care which, you or Elwood or myself. But he is +not here, and the cast of the die is between us two, unless you wish +a certainty, Carmel,--in which case I will pour out but one glass and +drink that myself.’ + +“She was in a fever, now, and desperate. Death was in the room; I felt +it in my lifted hair, and in her strangely drawn face. If I screamed, +who would hear me? I never thought of the telephone, and I doubt if she +would have let me use it then. The power she had always exerted over me +was very strong in her at this moment; and not till afterwards did it +cross my mind that I had never asked her how she got to the house, or +whether we were as much alone in the building as I believed. + +“‘Shall I drink alone?’ she repeated, and I cried out ‘No’; at which +her hand went to her breast, as I had so long expected, and I saw the +glitter of a little phial as she drew it forth. + +“‘Oh, Adelaide!’ I began; but she heeded me no more than the dead. + +“On leaving home, she had put on a long coat with pockets and this coat +was still on her, and the pockets gaping. Thrusting her other hand into +one of these, she drew out a little flask covered with wicker, and set +it on a stand beside her. Then she pulled out two small glasses, and +set them down also, and then she turned her back. I could hear the +drop, drop of the liquor; and, dark as the room was, it seemed to turn +darker, till I put out my hands like one groping in a sudden night. But +everything cleared before me when she turned around again. Features set +like hers force themselves to be seen. + +“She advanced, a glass in either hand. As she came, the floor swayed, +and the walls seemed to bow together; but they did not sway her. Step +by step, she drew near, and when she reached my side she smiled in +my face once. Then she said: ‘Choose aright, dear heart. Leave the +poisoned one for me.’ + +“Fascinated, I stared at one glass, then at the other. Had either of +her hands trembled, I should have grasped at the glass it held; but not +a tremor shook those icy fingers, nor did her eyes wander to the right +hand or to the left. ‘Adelaide!’ I shrieked out. ‘Toss them behind you. +Let us live--live!’ But she only reiterated that awful word: ‘Choose!’ +and I dare not hesitate longer, lest I lose my chance to save her. +Groping, I touched a glass--I never knew which one--and drawing it from +her fingers, I lifted it to my mouth. Instantly her other hand rose. ‘I +don’t know which is which, myself,’ she said, and drank. That made me +drink, also. + +“The two glasses sent out a clicking sound as we set them back on the +stand. Then we waited, looking at each other. ‘Which?’ her lips seemed +to say. ‘Which?’ In another moment we knew. ‘Your choice was the right +one,’ said she, and she sank back into a chair. ‘Don’t leave me!’ she +called out, for I was about to run shrieking out into the night. ‘I--I +am happy now that it is all settled; but I do not want to die alone. +Oh, how hot I am!’ And leaping up, she flung off her coat, and went +gasping about the room for air. When she sank down again, it was on +the lounge; and again I tried to fly for help, and again she would not +let me. Suddenly she started up, and I saw a great change in her. The +heavy, leaden look was gone; tenderness had come back to her eyes, +and a human anxious expression to her whole face. ‘I have been mad!’ +she cried. ‘Carmel, Carmel, what have I done to you, my more than +sister--my child, my child!’ + +“I tried to soothe her--to keep down my awful fear and soothe her. But +the nearness of death had calmed her poor heart into its old love and +habitual thoughtfulness. She was terrified at my position. She recalled +our mother, and the oath she had taken at that mother’s death-bed to +protect me and care for me and my brother. ‘And I have failed to do +either,’ she cried. ‘Arthur, I have alienated, and you I am leaving to +unknown trouble and danger,’ + +“She was not to be comforted. I saw her life ebbing and could do +nothing. She clung to me while she called up all her powers, and made +plans for me and showed me a way of escape. I was to burn the note, +fling two of the glasses from the window and leave the other and the +deadly phial near her hand. This, before I left the room. Then I was to +call up the police and say there was something wrong at the club-house, +but I was not to give my name or ever acknowledge I was there. ‘Nothing +can save trouble,’ she said, ‘but that trouble must not come near you. +Swear that you will heed my words--swear that you will do what I say,’ + +“I swore. All that she asked I promised. I was almost dying, too; +and had the light gone out and the rafters of the house fallen in +and buried us both, it would have been better. But the light burned +on, and the life in her eyes faded out, and the hands grasping mine +relaxed. I heard one little gasp; then a low prayer: ‘Tell Arthur +never--never--again to--’ Then--silence!” + +Sobs--cries--veiled faces--then silence in the courtroom, too. It was +broken but by one sound, a heartrending sigh from the prisoner. But +nobody looked at him, and thank God!--nobody looked at me. Every eye +was on the face of this young girl, whose story bore such an impress +of truth, and yet was so contradictory of all former evidence. What +revelations were yet to follow. It would seem that she was speaking of +her sister’s death. + +But her sister had not died that way; her sister had been strangled. +Could this dainty creature, with beauty scarred and yet powerfully +triumphant, be the victim of an hallucination as to the cause of that +scar and the awesome circumstances which attended its infliction? +Or, harder still to believe, were these soul-compelling tones, these +evidences of grief, this pathetic yielding to the rights of the law +in face of the heart’s natural shrinking from disclosures sacred as +they were tragic--were these the medium by which she sought to mislead +justice and to conceal truth? + +Even I, with my memory of her looks as she faltered down the staircase +on that memorable night--pale, staring, her left hand to her cheek and +rocking from side to side in pain or terror--could not but ask if this +heart-rending story did not involve a still more terrible sequel. I +searched her face, and racked my very soul, in my effort to discern +what lay beneath this angelic surface--beneath this recital which if it +were true and the whole truth, would call not only for the devotion of +a lifetime, but a respect transcending love and elevating it to worship. + +But, in her cold and quiet features, I could detect nothing beyond the +melancholy of grief; and the suspense from which all suffered, kept me +also on the rack, until at a question from Mr. Moffat she spoke again, +and we heard her say: + +“Yes, she died that way, with her hands in mine. There was no one else +by; we were quite alone.” + +That settled it, and for a moment the revulsion of feeling threatened +to throw the court into tumult. But one thing restrained them. Not the +look of astonishment on her face, not the startled uplift of Arthur’s +head, not the quiet complacency which in an instant replaced the +defeated aspect of the district attorney; but the gesture and attitude +of Mr. Moffat, the man who had put her on the stand, and who now from +the very force of his personality, kept the storm in abeyance, and by +his own composure, forced back attention to his witness and to his own +confidence in his case. This result reached, he turned again towards +Carmel, with renewed respect in his manner and a marked softening in +his aspect and voice. + +“Can you fix the hour of this occurrence?” he asked. “In any way can +you locate the time?” + +“No; for I did not move at once. I felt tied to that couch; I am very +young, and I had never seen death before. When I did get up, I hobbled +like an old woman and almost went distracted; but came to myself as I +saw the note on the floor--the note I was told to burn. Lifting it, I +moved towards the fireplace, but got a fright on the way, and stopped +in the middle of the floor and looked back. I thought I had heard my +sister speak! + +“But the fancy passed as I saw how still she lay, and I went on, after +a while, and threw the note into the one small flame which was all that +was left of the fire. I saw it caught by a draught from the door behind +me, and go flaming up the chimney. + +“Some of my trouble seemed to go with it, but a great one yet remained. +I didn’t know how I could ever turn around again and see my sister +lying there behind me, with her face fixed in death, for which I was, +in a way, responsible. I was abjectly frightened, and knelt there a +long time, praying and shuddering, before I could rise again to my +feet and move about as I had to, since God had not stricken me and I +must live my life and do what my sister had bidden me. Courage--such +courage as I had had--was all gone from me now; and while I knew there +was something else for me to do before I left the room, I could not +remember what it was, and stood hesitating, dreading to lift my eyes +and yet feeling that I ought to, if only to aid my memory by a look at +my sister’s face. + +“Suddenly I did look up, but it did not aid my memory; and, realising +that I could never think with that lifeless figure before me, I lifted +a pillow from the window-seat near by and covered her face. I must +have done more; I must have covered the whole lounge with pillows and +cushions; for, presently my mind cleared again, and I recollected +that it was something about the poison. I was to put the phial in her +hand--or was I to throw it from the window? Something was to be thrown +from the window--it must be the phial. But I couldn’t lift the window, +so having found the phial standing on the table beside the little +flask, I carried it into the closet where there was a window opening +inward, and I dropped it out of that, and thought I had done all. But +when I came back and saw Adelaide’s coat lying in a heap where she had +thrown it, I recalled that she had said something about this but what, +I didn’t know. So I lifted it and put it in the closet--why, I cannot +say. Then I set my mind on going home. + +“But there was something to do first--something not in that room. It +was a long time before it came to me; then the sight of the empty +hall recalled it. The door by which Adelaide had come in had never +been closed, and as I went towards it I remembered the telephone, and +that I was to call up the police. Lifting the candle, I went creeping +towards the front hall. Adelaide had commanded me, or I could never +have accomplished this task. I had to open a door; and when it swung to +behind me and latched, I turned around and looked at it, as if I never +expected it to open again. I almost think I fainted, if one can faint +standing, for when I knew anything, after the appalling latching of +that door, I was in quite another part of the room and the candle which +I still held, looked to my dazed eyes shorter than when I started with +it from the place where my sister lay. + +“I was wasting time. The thought drove me to the table. I caught up +the receiver and when central answered, I said something about The +Whispering Pines and wanting help. This is all I remember about that. + +“Some time afterward--I don’t know when--I was stumbling down the +stairs on my way out. I had gone to--to the room again for my little +bag; for the keys were in it, and I dared not leave them. But I didn’t +stay a minute, and I cast but one glance at the lounge. What happened +afterward is like a dream to me. I found the horse; the horse found the +road; and some time later I reached home. As I came within sight of the +house I grew suddenly strong again. The open stable door reminded me of +my duty, and driving in, I quickly unharnessed Jenny and put her away. +Then I dragged the cutter into place, and hung up the harness. Lastly, +I locked the door and carried the key with me into the house and hung +it up on its usual nail in the kitchen. I had obeyed Adelaide, and now +I would go to my room. That is what she would wish; but I don’t know +whether I did this or not. My mind was full of Adelaide till confusion +came--then darkness--and then a perfect blank.” + +She had finished; she had done as she had been asked; she had told the +story of that evening as she knew it, from the family dinner till her +return home after midnight--and the mystery of Adelaide’s death was +as great as ever. Did she realise this? Had I wronged this lovely, +tempestuous nature by suspicions which this story put to blush? I +was happy to think so--madly, unreasonably happy. Whatever happened, +whatever the future threatening Arthur or myself, it was rapture to be +restored to right thinking as regards this captivating and youthful +spirit, who had suffered and must suffer always--and all through me, +who thought it a pleasant pastime to play with hearts, and awoke to +find I was playing with souls, and those of the two noblest women I had +ever known! + +The cutting in of some half dozen questions from Mr. Moffat, which I +scarcely heard and which did not at all affect the status of the case +as it now stood, served to cool down the emotional element, which had +almost superseded the judicial, in more minds than those of the jury; +and having thus prepared his witness for an examination at other and +less careful hands, he testified his satisfaction at her replies, and +turned her over to the prosecution, with the time-worn phrase: + +“Mr. District Attorney, the witness is yours.” + +Mr. Fox at once arose; the moment was ripe for conquest. He put his +most vital question first: + +“In all this interview with your sister, did you remark any +discoloration on her throat?” + +The witness’s lips opened; surprise spoke from her every feature. +“Discoloration?” she repeated. “I do not know what you mean.” + +“Any marks darker than the rest of her skin on her throat or neck?” + +“No. Adelaide had a spotless skin. It looked like marble as she lay +there. No, I saw no marks.” + +“Miss Cumberland, have you heard or read a full account of this trial?” + +She was trembling, now. Was it from fear of the truth, or under that +terror of the unknown embodied in this question. + +“I do not know,” said she. “What I heard was from my nurse and Mr. +Moffat. I read very little, and that was only about the first days of +the trial and the swearing in of jurors. This is the first time I have +heard any mention made of marks, and I do not understand yet what you +allude to.” + +District Attorney Fox cast at Mr. Moffat an eloquent glance, which that +gentleman bore unmoved; then turning back to the witness, he addressed +her in milder and more considerate tones than were usually heard from +him in cross-examination, and asked: “Did you hold your sister’s hands +all the time she lay dying, as you thought, on the lounge?” + +“Yes, yes.” + +“And did not see her raise them once?” + +“No, no.” + +“How was it when you let go of them? Where did they fall then?” + +“On her breast. I laid them down softly and crossed them. I did not +leave her till I had done this and closed her eyes.” + +“And what did you do then?” + +“I went for the note, to burn it.” + +“Miss Cumberland, in your direct examination, you said that you stopped +still as you crossed the floor at the time, thinking that your sister +called, and that you looked back at her to see.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Were her hands crossed then?” + +“Yes, sir, just the same.” + +“And afterward, when you came from the fire after waiting some little +time for courage?” + +“Yes, yes. There were no signs of movement. Oh, she was dead--quite +dead.” + +“No statements, Miss Cumberland. She looked the same, and you saw no +change in the position of her hands?” + +“None; they were just as I left them.” + +“Miss Cumberland, you have told us how, immediately after taking the +poison, she staggered about the room, and sank first on a chair and +then on the lounge. Were you watching her then?” + +“Oh, yes--every moment.” + +“Her hands as well as her face?” + +“I don’t know about her hands. I should have observed it if she had +done anything strange with them.” + +“Can you say she did not clutch or grip her throat during any of this +time?” + +“Yes, yes. I couldn’t have forgotten it, if she had done that. I +remember every move she made so well. She didn’t do that.” + +Mr. Fox’s eye stole towards the jury. To a man, they were alert, +anxious for the next question, and serious, as the arbitrators of a +man’s life ought to be. + +Satisfied, he put the question: “When, after telephoning, you returned +to the room where your sister lay, you glanced at the lounge?” + +“Yes, I could not help it.” + +“Was it in the same condition as when you left--the pillows, I mean?” + +“I--I think so. I cannot say; I only half looked; I was terrified by +it.” + +“Can you say they had not been disturbed?” + +“No. I can say nothing. But what does--” + +“Only the answer, Miss Cumberland. Can you tell us how those pillows +were arranged?” + +“I’m afraid not. I threw them down quickly, madly, just as I collected +them. I only know that I put the window cushion down first. The rest +fell anyhow; but they quite covered her--quite.” + +“Hands and face?” + +“Her whole body.” + +“And did they cover her quite when you came back?” + +“They must have--Wait--wait! I know I have no right to say that, but I +cannot swear that I saw any change.” + +“Can you swear that there was no change--that the pillows and the +window cushion lay just as they did when you left the room?” + +She did not answer. Horror seemed to have seized hold of her. Her +eyes, fixed on the attorney’s face, wavered and, had they followed +their natural impulse, would have turned towards her brother, but her +fear--possibly her love--was her counsellor and she brought them back +to Mr. Fox. Resolutely, but with a shuddering insight of the importance +of her reply, she answered with that one weighty monosyllable which can +crush so many hopes, and even wreck a life: + +“No.” + +At the next moment she was in Dr. Carpenter’s arms. Her strength had +given way for the time, and the court was hastily adjourned, to give +her opportunity for rest and recuperation. + + + + +XXXI + +“WERE HER HANDS CROSSED THEN?” + +Threescore and ten I can remember well: +Within the volume of which time, I have seen +Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night +Hath trifled former knowledge. + +_Macbeth_. + + +I shall say nothing about myself at this juncture. That will come +later. I have something of quite different purport to relate. + +When I left the court-room with the other witnesses, I noticed a man +standing near the district attorney. He was a very plain man--with no +especial claims to attention, that I could see, yet I looked at him +longer than I did at any one else, and turned and looked at him again +as I passed through the doorway. + +Afterward I heard that he was Sweetwater, the detective from New +York who had had so much to do in unearthing the testimony against +Arthur,--testimony which in the light of this morning’s revelations, +had taken on quite a new aspect, as he was doubtless the first to +acknowledge. It was the curious blending of professional disappointment +and a personal and characteristic appreciation of the surprising +situation, which made me observe him, I suppose. Certainly my heart +and mind were full enough not to waste looks on a commonplace stranger +unless there had been some such overpowering reason. + +I left him still talking to Mr. Fox, and later received this account of +the interview which followed between them and Dr. Perry. + +“Is this girl telling the truth?” asked District Attorney Fox, as soon +as the three were closeted and each could speak his own mind. “Doctor, +what do you think?” + +“I do not question her veracity in the least. A woman who for purely +moral reasons could defy pain and risk the loss of a beauty universally +acknowledged as transcendent, would never stoop to falsehood even in +her desire to save a brother’s life. I have every confidence in her. +Fox, and I think you may safely have the same.” + +“You believe that she burnt herself--intentionally?” + +“I wouldn’t disbelieve it--you may think me sentimental; I knew and +loved her father--for any fortune you might name.” + +“Say that you never knew her father; say that you had no more interest +in the girl or the case, than the jurors have? What then---? + +“I should believe her for humanity’s sake; for the sake of the +happiness it gives one to find something true and strong in this sordid +work-a-day world--a jewel in a dust-heap. Oh, I’m a sentimentalist, I +acknowledge.” + +Mr. Fox turned to Sweetwater. “And you?” + +“Mr. Fox, have you those tongs?” + +“Yes, I forgot; they were brought to my office, with the other +exhibits. I attached no importance to them, and you will probably find +them just where I thrust them into the box marked ‘Cumb.’” + +They were in the district attorney’s office, and Sweetwater at once +rose and brought forward the tongs. + +“There is my answer,” he said pointing significantly at one of the legs. + +The district attorney turned pale, and motioned Sweetwater to carry +them back. He sat silent for a moment, and then showed that he was a +man. + +“Miss Cumberland has my respect,” said he. + +Sweetwater came back to his place. + +Dr. Perry waited. + +Finally Mr. Fox turned to him and put the anticipated question: + +“You are satisfied with your autopsy? Miss Cumberland’s death was due +to strangulation and not to the poison she took?” + +“That was what I swore to, and what I should have to swear to again +if you placed me back on the stand. The poison, taken with her great +excitement, robbed her of consciousness, but there was too little of +it, or it was too old and weakened to cause death. She would probably +have revived, in time; possibly did revive. But the clutch of those +fingers was fatal; she could not survive it. It costs me more than +you can ever understand to say this, but questions like yours must be +answered. I should not be an honest man otherwise.” + +Sweetwater made a movement. Mr. Fox turned and looked at him critically. + +“Speak out,” said he. + +But Sweetwater had nothing to say. + +Neither had Dr. Perry. The oppression of an unsolved problem, involving +lives of whose value each formed a different estimate, was upon them +all; possibly heaviest upon the district attorney, the most serious +portion of whose work lay still before him. + +To the relief of all, Carmel was physically stronger than we expected +when she came to retake the stand in the afternoon. But she had lost +a little of her courage. Her expectation of clearing her brother at +a word had left her, and with it the excitation of hope. Yet she +made a noble picture as she sat there, meeting, without a blush, but +with an air of sweet humility impossible to describe, the curious, +all-devouring glances of the multitude, some of them anxious to repeat +the experience of the morning; some of them new to the court, to her, +and the cause for which she stood. + +Mr. Fox kept nobody waiting. With a gentleness such as he seldom showed +to any witness for the defence, he resumed his cross-examination by +propounding the following question: + +“Miss Cumberland, in your account of the final interview you had with +your sister, you alluded to a story you had once read together. Will +you tell us the name of this story?” + +“It was called ‘A Legend of Francis the First.’ It was not a novel, but +a little tale she found in some old magazine. It had a great effect +upon us; I have never forgotten it.” + +“Can you relate this tale to us in a few words?” + +“I will try. It was very simple; it merely told how a young girl marred +her beauty to escape the attentions of the great king, and what respect +he always showed her after that, even calling her sister.” + +Was the thrill in her voice or in my own heart, or in the +story--emphasised as it was by her undeniable attempt upon her own +beauty? As that last word fell so softly, yet with such tender +suggestion, a sensation of sympathy passed between us for the first +time; and I knew, from the purity of her look and the fearlessness of +this covert appeal to one she could not address openly, that the doubts +I had cherished of her up to this very moment were an outrage and that +were it possible or seemly, I should be bowed down in the dust at her +feet--in reality, as I was in spirit. + +Others may have shared my feeling; for the glances which flew from her +face to mine were laden with an appreciation of the situation, which +for the moment drove the prisoner from the minds of all, and centred +attention on this tragedy of souls, bared in so cruel a way to the +curiosity of the crowd. I could not bear it. The triumph of my heart +battled with the shame of my fault, and I might have been tempted into +some act of manifest imprudence, if Mr. Fox had not cut my misery short +by recalling attention to the witness, with a question of the most +vital importance. + +“While you were holding your sister’s hands in what you supposed to be +her final moments, did you observe whether or not she still wore on her +finger the curious ring given her by Mr. Ranelagh, and known as her +engagement ring?” + +“Yes--I not only saw it, but felt it. It was the only one she wore on +her left hand.” + +The district attorney paused. This was an admission unexpected, +perhaps, by himself, which it was desirable to have sink into the minds +of the jury. The ring had not been removed by Adelaide herself; it +was still on her finger as the last hour drew nigh. An awful fact, if +established--telling seriously against Arthur. Involuntarily I glanced +his way. He was looking at me. The mutual glance struck fire. What I +thought, he thought--but possibly with a difference. The moment was +surcharged with emotion for all but the witness herself. She was calm; +perhaps she did not understand the significance of the occasion. + +Mr. Fox pressed his advantage. + +“And when you rose from the lounge and crossed your sister’s hands?” + +“It was still there; I put that hand uppermost.” + +“And left the ring on?” + +“Oh, yes--oh, yes.” Her whole attitude and face were full of protest. + +“So that, to the best of your belief, it was still on your sister’s +finger when you left the room?” + +“Certainly, sir, certainly.” + +There was alarm in her tone now, she was beginning to see that her +testimony was not as entirely helpful to Arthur as she had been led +to expect. In her helplessness, she cast a glance of entreaty at her +brother’s counsel. But he was busily occupied with pencil and paper, +and she received no encouragement unless it was from his studiously +composed manner and general air of unconcern. She did not know--nor did +I know then--what uneasiness such an air may cover. + +Mr. Fox had followed her glances, and perhaps understood his adversary +better than she did; for he drew himself up with an appearance of +satisfaction as he asked very quietly: + +“What material did you use in lighting the fire on the club-house +hearth?” + +“Wood from the box, and a little kindling I found there.” + +“How large was this kindling?” + +“Not very large; some few stray pieces of finer wood I picked out from +she rest.” + +“And how did you light these?” + +“With some scraps of paper I brought in my bag?” + +“Oh--you brought scraps?” + +“Yes. I had seen the box, seen the wood, but knew the wood would not +kindle without paper. So I brought some.” + +“Did the fire light quickly?” + +“Not very quickly.” + +“You had trouble with it?” + +“Yes, sir. But I made it burn at last.” + +“Are you in the habit of kindling fires in your own home?” + +“Yes, on the hearth.” + +“You understand them?” + +“I have always found it a very simple matter, if you have paper and +enough kindling.” + +“And the draught is good.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Wasn’t the draught good at the club-house?” + +“Not at first.” + +“Oh--not at first. When did you see a change?” + +“When the note I was trying to burn flew up the chimney.” + +“I see. Was that after or before the door opened?” + +“After.” + +“Did the opening of this door alter the temperature of the room?” + +“I cannot say; I felt neither heat nor cold at any time.” + +“Didn’t you feel the icy cold when you opened the dressing-closet +window to throw out the phial?” + +“I don’t remember.” + +“Wouldn’t you remember if you had?” + +“I cannot say.” + +“Can you say whether you noticed any especial chill in the hall when +you went out to telephone?” + +“My teeth were chattering but--” + +“Had they chattered before?” + +“They may have. I only noticed it then; but--” + +“The facts, Miss Cumberland. Your teeth chattered while you were +passing through the hall. Did this keep up after you entered the room +where you found the telephone?” + +“I don’t remember; I was almost insensible.” + +“You don’t remember that they did?” + +“No, sir.” + +“But you do remember having shut the door behind you?” + +“Yes.” + +An open window in the hall! That was what he was trying to prove--open +at this time. From the expression of such faces of the jury as I could +see, I think he had proved it. The next point he made was in the same +line. Had she, in all the time she was in the building, heard any +noises she could not account for? + +“Yes, many times.” + +“Can you describe these noises?” + +“No; they were of all kinds. The pines sighed continually; I knew it +was the pines, but I had to listen. Once I heard a rushing sound--it +was when the pines stopped swaying for an instant--but I don’t know +what it was. It was all very dreadful.” + +“Was this rushing sound such as a window might make on being opened?” + +“Possibly. I didn’t think of it at the time, but it might have been.” + +“From what direction did it come?” + +“Back of me, for I turned my head about.” + +“Where were you at the time?” + +“At the hearth. It was before Adelaide came in.” + +“A near sound, or a far?” + +“Far, but I cannot locate it--indeed, I cannot. I forgot it in a +moment.” + +“But you remember it now?” + +“Yes.” + +“And cannot you remember _now_ any other noises than those you speak +of? That time you stepped into the hall--when your teeth chattered, you +know--did you hear nothing then but the sighing of the pines?” + +She looked startled. Her hands went up and one of them clutched at her +throat, then they fell, and slowly--carefully--like one feeling his +way--she answered: + +“I had forgotten. I did hear something--a sound in one of the doorways. +It was very faint--a sigh--a--a--I don’t know what. It conveyed nothing +to me then, and not much now. But you asked, and I have answered.” + +“You have done right, Miss Cumberland. The jury ought to know these +facts. Was it a human sigh?” + +“It wasn’t the sigh of the pines.” + +“And you heard it in one of the doorways? Which doorway?” + +“The one opposite the room in which I left my sister.” + +“The doorway to the large hall?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +Oh, the sinister memories! The moments which I myself had spent +there--after this time of her passing through the hall, thank God!--but +not long after. And some one had been there before me! Was it Arthur? I +hardly had the courage to interrogate his face, but when I did, I, like +every one else who looked that way, met nothing but the quietude of a +fully composed man. There was nothing to be learned from him now; the +hour for self-betrayal was past. I began to have a hideous doubt. + +Carmel being innocent, who could be guilty but he. I knew of no one. +The misery under which I had suffered was only lightened, not removed. +We were still to see evil days. The prosecution would prove its case, +and--But there was Mr. Moffat. I must not reckon without Moffat. He had +sprung one surprise. Was he not capable of springing another? Relieved, +I fixed my mind again upon the proceedings. What was Mr. Fox asking her +now? + +“Miss Cumberland, are you ready to swear that you did not hear a step +at that time?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Or see a face?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“That you only heard a sigh?” + +“A sigh, or something like one.” + +“Which made you stop--” + +“No, I did not stop.” + +“You went right on?” + +“Immediately.” + +“Entering the telephone room?” + +“Yes.” + +“The door of which you shut?” + +“Yes.” + +“Intentionally?” + +“No, not intentionally.” + +“Did you shut that door yourself?” + +“I do not know. I must have but I--” + +“Never mind explanations. You do not know whether you shut it, or +whether some one else shut it?” + +“I do not.” + +The words fell weightily. They seemed to strike every heart. + +“Miss Cumberland, you have said that you telephoned for the police.” + +“I telephoned to central.” + +“For help?” + +“Yes, for help.” + +“You were some minutes doing this, you say?” + +“I have reason to think so, but I don’t know definitely. The candle +seemed shorter when I went out than when I came in.” + +“Are you sure you telephoned for help?” + +“Help was what I wanted--help for my sister. I do not remember my +words.” + +“And then you left the building?” + +“After going for my little bag.” + +“Did you see any one then?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Hear any one?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Did you see your sister again?” + +“I have said that I just glanced at the couch.” + +“Were the pillows there?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Just as you had left them?” + +“I have said that I could not tell.” + +“Wouldn’t you know if they had been disturbed?” + +“No, sir--not from the look I gave them.” + +“Then they might have been disturbed--might even have been +rearranged---without your knowing it?” + +“They might.” + +“Miss Cumberland, when you left the building, did you leave it alone?” + +“I did.” + +“Was the moon shining?” + +“No, it was snowing.” + +“Did the moon shine when you went to throw the phial out of the window?” + +“Yes, very brightly.” + +“Bright enough for you to see the links?” + +“I didn’t look at the links.” + +“Where were you looking?” + +“Behind me.” + +“When you threw the phial out?” + +“Yes.” + +“What was there behind you?” + +“A dead sister.” Oh, the indescribable tone! + +“Nothing else?” + +“No.” + +“Forgive me, Miss Cumberland, I do not want to trouble you, but was +there not something or some one in the adjoining room besides your dead +sister, to make you look back?” + +“I saw no one. But I looked back--I do not know why.” + +“And didn’t you turn at all?” + +“I do not think so.” + +“You threw the phial out without looking?” + +“Yes.” + +“How do you know you threw it out?” + +“I felt it slip from my hand.” + +“Where?” + +“Over the window ledge. I had pulled the window open before I turned +my head. I had only to feel for the sill. When I touched its edge, I +opened my fingers.” + +Triumph for the defence. Cross-examination on this point had only +served to elucidate a mysterious fact. The position of the phial, +caught in the vines, was accounted for in a very natural manner. + +Mr. Fox shifted his inquiries. + +“You have said that you wore a hat and coat of your brother’s in coming +to the club-house? Did you keep these articles on?” + +“No; I left them in the lower hall.” + +“Where in the lower hall?” + +“On the rack there.” + +“Was your candle lit?” + +“Not then, sir.” + +“Yet you found the rack?” + +“I felt for it. I knew where it was.” + +“When did you light the candle?” + +“After I hung up the coat.” + +“And when you came down? Did you have the candle then?” + +“Yes, for a while. But I didn’t have any light when I went for the coat +and hat. I remember feeling all along the wall. I don’t know what I did +with the candlestick or the candle. I had them on the stairs; I didn’t +have them when I put on the coat and hat.” + +I knew what she did with them. She flung them out of her hand upon the +marble floor. Should I ever forget the darkness swallowing up that face +of mental horror and physical suffering. + +“Miss Cumberland, you are sure about having telephoned for help, and +that you mentioned The Whispering Pines in doing so?” + +“Quite sure.” Oh, what weariness was creeping into her voice! + +“Then, of course, you left the door unlocked when you went out of the +building?” + +“No--no, I didn’t. I had the key and I locked it. But I didn’t realise +this till I went to untie my horse; then I found the keys in my hand. +But I didn’t go back.” + +“Do you mean that you didn’t know you locked the door?” + +“I don’t remember whether I knew or not at the time. I do remember +being surprised and a little frightened when I saw the keys. But I +didn’t go back.” + +“Yet you had telephoned for the police?” + +“Yes.” + +“And then locked them out?” + +“I didn’t care--I didn’t care.” + +An infinite number of questions followed. The poor child was near +fainting, but bore up wonderfully notwithstanding, contradicting +herself but seldom; and then only from lack of understanding the +question, or from sheer fatigue. Mr. Fox was considerate, and Mr. +Moffat interrupted but seldom. All could see that this noble-hearted +girl, this heroine of all hearts was trying to tell the truth, and +sympathy was with her, even that of the prosecution. But certain facts +had to be brought out, among them the blowing off of her hat on that +hurried drive home through the ever thickening snow-storm--a fact +easily accounted for, when one considered the thick coils of hair over +which it had been drawn. + +The circumstances connected with her arrival at the house were all +carefully sifted, but nothing new came up, nor was her credibility as +a witness shaken. The prosecution had lost much by this witness, but +it had also gained. No doubt now remained that the ring was still on +the victim’s hand when she succumbed to the effects of the poison; and +the possibility of another presence in the house during the fateful +interview just recorded, had been strengthened, rather than lessened, +by Carmel’ s hesitating admissions. And so the question hung poised, +and I was expecting to see her dismissed from the stand, when the +district attorney settled himself again into his accustomed attitude of +inquiry, and launched this new question: + +“When you went into the stable to unharness your horse, what did you do +with the little bag you carried?” + +“I took it out of the cutter.” + +“What, then?” + +“Set it down somewhere.” + +“Was there anything in the bag?” + +“Not now. I had left the tongs at the club-house, and the paper I had +burned. I took nothing else.” + +“How about the candlestick?” + +“That I carried in one of the pockets of my coat. That I left, too.” + +“Was that all you carried in your pockets?” + +“Yes--the candlestick and the candle. The candlestick on one side and +the candle on the other.” + +“And these you did not have on your return?” + +“No, I left both.” + +“So that your pockets were empty--entirely empty--when you drove into +your own gate?” + +“Yes, sir, so far as I know. I never looked into them.” + +“And felt nothing there?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Took nothing out?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Then or when you unharnessed your horse, or afterward, as you passed +back to the house?” + +“No, sir.” + +“What path did you take in returning to the house?” + +“There is only one.” + +“Did you walk straight through it?” + +“As straight as I could. It was snowing heavily, and I was dizzy and +felt strange, I may have zigzagged a little.” + +“Did you zigzag enough to go back of the stable?” + +“Oh, no.” + +“You are sure that you did not wander in back of the stable?” + +“As sure as I can be of anything.” + +“Miss Cumberland, I have but a few more questions to ask. Will you look +at this portion of a broken bottle?” + +“I see it, sir.” + +“Will you take it in your hand and examine it carefully?” + +She reached out her hand; it was trembling visibly and her face +expressed a deep distress, but she took the piece of broken bottle and +looked at it before passing it back. + +“Miss Cumberland, did you ever see that bit of broken glass before?” + +She shook her head. Then she cast a quick look at her brother, and +seemed to gain an instantaneous courage. + +“No,” said she. “I may have seen a whole bottle like that, at some time +in the club-house, but I have no memory of this broken end--none at +all.” + +“I am obliged to you, Miss Cumberland. I will trouble you no more +to-day.” + +Then he threw up his head and smiled a slow, sarcastic smile at Mr. +Moffat. + + + + +XXXII + +AND I HAD SAID NOTHING! + +O my soul’s joy! +If after every tempest come such calms +May the winds blow till they have wakened death! + +_Othello_. + + +I had always loved her; that I knew even in the hour of my darkest +suspicion--but now I felt free to worship her. As the thought +penetrated my whole being, it made the night gladsome. Whatever awaited +her, whatever awaited Arthur, whatever awaited me, she had regenerated +me. A change took place that night in my whole nature, in my aspect of +life and my view of women. One fact rode triumphant above all other +considerations and possible distresses. Fate--I was more inclined now +to call it Providence--had shown me the heart of a great and true +woman; and I was free to expend all my best impulses in honouring her +and loving her, whether she ever looked my way again, received or even +acknowledged a homage growing out of such wrong as I had done her +and her unfortunate sister. It set a star in my firmament. It turned +down all the ill-written and besmirched leaves in my book of life and +opened up a new page on which her name, written in letters of gold, +demanded clean work in the future and a record which should not shame +the aura surrounding that pure name. Sorrow for the past, dread of the +future--both were lost in the glad rebound of my distracted soul. The +night was dedicated to joy, and to joy alone. + +The next day being Sunday, I had ample time for the reaction bound to +follow hours of such exaltation. I had no wish for company. I even +denied myself to Clifton. The sight of a human face was more than I +could bear unless it were the one face; and that I could not hope +for. But the desire to see her, to hear from her--if only to learn +how she had endured the bitter ordeal of the day before--soon became +unbearable. I must know this much at any cost to her feelings or to +mine. + +After many a struggle with myself, I called up Dr. Carpenter on the +telephone. From him I learned that she was physically prostrated, but +still clear in mind and satisfied of her brother’s innocence. This +latter statement might mean anything; but imparted by him to me, it +seemed to be capable of but one interpretation. I must be prepared for +whatever distrust of myself this confidence carried with it. + +This was intolerable. I had to speak; I had to inquire if she had yet +heard the real reason why I was the first to be arrested. + +A decided “No,” cut short that agony. I could breathe again and proffer +a humble request. + +“Doctor, I cannot approach her; I cannot even write,--it would seem too +presumptuous. But tell her, as you find the opportunity, how I honour +her. Do not let her remain under the impression that I am not capable +of truly feeling what she has borne and must still bear.” + +“I will do what I can,” was his reply, and he mercifully cut short the +conversation. + +This was the event of the morning. + +In the afternoon I sat in my window thinking. My powers of reasoning +had returned, and the insoluble problem of Adelaide’s murder occupied +my whole mind. With Carmel innocent, who was there left to suspect? +Not Arthur. His fingers were as guiltless as my own of those marks on +her throat. Of this I was convinced, difficult as it made my future. +My mind refused to see guilt in a man who could meet my eye with just +the look he gave me on leaving the courtroom, at the conclusion of his +sister’s triumphant examination. It was a momentary glance, but I read +it, I am sure, quite truthfully. + +“You are the man,” it said; but not in the old, bitter, and revengeful +way voiced by his tongue before we came together in the one effort to +save Carmel from what, in our short-sightedness and misunderstanding +of her character, we had looked upon as the worst of humiliations and +the most desperate of perils. There was sadness in his conviction and +an honest man’s regret--which, if noted by those about us--was far more +dangerous to my good name than the loudest of denunciations or the most +acrimonious of assaults. It put me in the worst of positions. But one +chance remained for me now. + +The secret man of guilt might yet come to light; but how or through +whose agency, I found myself unable to conceive. I had neither the wit +nor the experience to untangle this confused web. Should I find the law +in shape to deal with it? A few days would show. With the termination +of Arthur’s trial, the story of my future would begin. Meanwhile, I +must have patience and such strength as could be got from the present. + +And so the afternoon passed. + +With the coming on of night, my mood changed. I wanted air, movement. +The closeness of my rooms had become unbearable. As soon as the lamps +were lit in the street, I started out and I went--toward the cemetery. + +I had no motive in choosing this direction for my walk. The road was an +open one, and I should neither avoid people nor escape the chilly blast +blowing directly in my face from the northeast. Whim, or shall I not +say, true feeling, carried me there though I was quite conscious, all +the time, of a strong desire to see Ella Fulton and learn from her the +condition of affairs--whether she was at peace, or in utter disgrace, +with her parents. + +It was a cold night, as I have said, and there were but few people in +the streets. On the boulevard I met nobody. As I neared the cemetery, +I passed one man; otherwise I was, to all appearance, alone on this +remote avenue. The effect was sinister, or my mood made it so; yet +I did not hasten my steps; the hours till midnight had to be lived +through in some way, and why not in this? No companion would have been +welcome, and had the solitude been less perfect, I should have murmured +at the prospect of intrusion. + +The cemetery gates were shut. This I had expected, but I did not +need to enter the grounds to have a view of Adelaide’s grave. The +Cumberland lot occupied a knoll in close proximity to the fence, and +my only intention had been to pass this spot and cast one look within, +in memory of Adelaide. To reach the place, however, I had to turn +a corner, and on doing so I saw good reason, as I thought, for not +carrying out my intention at this especial time. + +Some man--I could not recognise him from where I stood--had forestalled +me. Though the night was a dark one, sufficient light shone from the +scattered lamps on the opposite side of the way for me to discern his +intent figure, crouching against the iron bars and gazing, with an +intentness which made him entirely oblivious of my presence, at the +very plot--and on the very grave--which had been the end of my own +pilgrimage. So motionless he stood, and so motionless I myself became +at this unexpected and significant sight, that I presently imagined I +could hear his sighs in the dread quiet into which the whole scene had +sunk. + +Grief, deeper than mine, spoke in those labouring breaths. Adelaide was +mourned by some one as I, for all my remorse, could never mourn her. + +_And I did not know the man_. + +Was not this strange enough to rouse my wonder? + +I thought so, and was on the point of satisfying this wonder by a quick +advance upon this stranger, when there happened an uncanny thing, +which held me in check from sheer astonishment. I was so placed, in +reference to one of the street lamps I have already mentioned, that my +shadow fell before me plainly along the snow. This had not attracted my +attention until, at the point of moving, I cast my eyes down and saw +two shadows where only one should be. + +As I had heard no one behind me, and had supposed myself entirely +alone with the man absorbed in contemplation of Adelaide’s grave, I +experienced a curious sensation which, without being fear, held me +still for a moment, with my eyes on this second shadow. It did not +move, any more than mine did. This was significant, and I turned. + +A man stood at my back--not looking at me but at the fellow in front +of us. A quiet “hush!” sounded in my ear, and again I stood still. But +only for an instant. + +The man at the fence--aroused by my movement, perhaps--had turned, +and, seeing our two figures, started to fly in the opposite direction. +Instinctively I darted forward in pursuit, but was soon passed by the +man behind me. This caused me to slacken; for I had recognised this +latter, as he flew by, as Sweetwater, the detective, and knew that he +would do this work better than myself. + +But I reckoned without my host. He went only as far as the spot where +the man had been standing. When, in my astonishment, I advanced upon +him there, he wheeled about quite naturally in my direction and, +accosting me by name, remarked, in his genial off-hand manner: + +“There is no need for us to tire our legs in a chase after that man. I +know him well enough.” + +“And who--” I began. + +A quizzical smile answered me. The light was now in our faces, and I +had a perfect view of his. Its expression quite disarmed me; but I +knew, as well as if he had spoken, that I should receive no other reply +to my half-formed question. + +“Are you going back into town?” he asked, as I paused and looked down +at the umbrella swinging in his hand. I was sure that he had not held +this umbrella when he started by me on the run. “If so, will you allow +me to walk beside you for a little way?” + +I could not refuse him; besides, I was not sure that I wanted to. +Homely as any man I had ever seen, there was a magnetic quality in his +voice and manner that affected even one so fastidious as myself. I felt +that I had rather talk to him, at that moment, than to any other person +I knew. Of course, curiosity had something to do with it, and that +community of interest which is the strongest bond that can link two +people together. + +“You are quite welcome,” said I; and again cast my eye at the umbrella. + +“You are wondering where I got this,” he remarked, looking down at it +in his turn. “I found it leaning against the fence. It gives me all the +clue I need to our fleet-footed friend. Mr. Ranelagh, will you credit +me with good intentions if I ask a question or two which you may or may +not be willing to answer?” + +“You may ask what you will,” said I. “I have nothing to conceal, since +hearing Miss Cumberland’s explanation of her presence at The Whispering +Pines.” + +“Ah!” + +The ejaculation was eloquent. So was the silence which followed it. +Without good reason, perhaps, I felt the strain upon my heart loosen a +little. Was it possible that I should find a friend in this man? + +“The question I am going to ask,” he continued presently, “is one which +you may consider unpardonable. Let me first express an opinion. You +have not told all that you know of that evening’s doings.” + +This called for no reply and I made none. + +“I can understand your reticence, if your knowledge included the fact +of Miss Cumberland’s heroic act and her sister’s manner of death at the +club-house.” + +“But it did not,” I asserted, with deliberate emphasis. “I knew nothing +of either. My arrival happened later. Miss Cumberland’s testimony gave +me my first enlightenment on these points. But I did know that the two +sisters were there together, for I had a glimpse of the younger as she +was leaving the house.” + +“You had. And are willing to state it now?” + +“Assuredly. But any testimony of that kind is for the defence, and +your interests are all with the prosecution. Mr. Moffat is the man who +should talk to me.” + +“Does he know it?” + +“Yes.” + +“Who told him?” + +“I did.” + +“You?” + +“Yes, it was my duty.” + +“You are interested then in seeing young Cumberland freed?” + +“I must be; he is innocent.” + +The man at my side turned, shot at me one glance which I met quite +calmly, then, regulating his step by mine, moved on silently for a +moment--thinking, as it appeared to me, some very serious thoughts. +It was not until we had traversed a whole block in this way that he +finally put his question. Whether it was the one he had first had in +mind, I cannot say. + +“Mr. Ranelagh, will you tell me why, when you found yourself in such +a dire extremity as to be arrested for this crime, on evidence as +startling as to call for all and every possible testimony to your +innocence, you preserved silence in regard to a fact which you must +have then felt would have secured you a most invaluable witness? I can +understand why Mr. Cumberland has been loth to speak of his younger +sister’s presence in the club-house on that night; but his reason was +not your reason. Yet you have been as hard to move on this point as he.” + +Then it was I regretted my thoughtless promise to be candid with this +man. To answer were impossible, yet silence has its confidences, too. +In my dilemma, I turned towards him and just then we stepped within the +glare of an electric light pouring from some open doorway. I caught his +eye, and was astonished at the change which took place in him. + +“Don’t answer,” he muttered, volubly. “It isn’t necessary. I understand +the situation, now, and you shall never regret that you met Caleb +Sweetwater on your walk this evening. Will you trust me, sir? A +detective who loves his profession is no gabbler. Your secret is as +safe with me as if you had buried it in the grave.” + +And I had said nothing! + +He started to go, then he stopped suddenly and observed, with one of +his wise smiles: + +“I once spent several minutes in Miss Carmel Cumberland’s room, and I +saw a cabinet there which I found it very hard to understand. But its +meaning came to me later. I could not rest till it did.” + +At the next moment he was half way around a corner, and in another, out +of sight. + +This was the evening’s event. + + + + +XXXIII + +THE ARROW OF DEATH + +O if you rear this house against this house, +It will the wofulest division prove +That ever fell upon this cursed earth. + +_Prometheus Unbound_. + + +In my first glance around the court-room the next morning, I sought +first for Carmel and then for the detective Sweetwater. Neither was +visible. But this was not true of Ella. She had come in on her father’s +arm, closely followed by the erect figure of her domineering mother. +As I scrutinised the latter’s bearing, I seemed to penetrate the +mystery of her nature. Whatever humiliation she may have felt at the +public revelation of her daughter’s weakness, it had been absorbed by +her love for that daughter, or had been forced, through the agency +of her indomitable will, to become a ministrant to her pride which +was unassailable. She had accepted the position exacted from her by +the situation, and she looked for no loss of prestige, either on her +daughter’s or her own account. Such was the language of her eyes; and +it was a language which should have assured Ella that she had a better +friend in her mother than she had ever dreamed of. The entrance of the +defendant cut short my contemplation of any mere spectator. The change +in him was so marked that I was conscious of it before I really saw +him. Every eye had reflected it, and it was no surprise to me when I +noted the relieved, almost cheerful aspect of his countenance as he +took his place and met his counsel’s greeting with a smile--the first, +I believe, which had been seen on his face since his sister’s death. +That counsel I had already noted. He was cheerful also, but with a +restrained cheerfulness. His task was not yet over, and the grimness of +Mr. Fox, and the non-committal aspect of the jurymen, proved that it +was not to be made too easy for him. + +The crier announced the opening of the court, and the defence proceeded +by the calling of Ella Fulton to the witness stand. + +I need not linger over her testimony. It was very short and contained +but one surprise. She had stated under direct examination that she +had waited and watched for Arthur’s return that whole night, and was +positive that he had not passed through their grounds again after that +first time in the early evening. This was just what I had expected +from her. But the prosecution remembered the snowfall, and in her +cross-examination on this point, she acknowledged that it was very +thick, much too thick for her to see her own gate distinctly; but +added, that this only made her surer of the fact she had stated; for +finding that she could not see, she had dressed herself for the storm +and gone out into the driveway to watch there, and had so watched until +the town clock struck three. + +This did not help the prosecution. Sympathy could not fail to be +with this young and tremulous girl, heroic in her love, if weak in +other respects, and when on her departure from the stand, she cast +one deprecatory glance at the man for whom she had thus sacrificed +her pride, and, meeting his eye fixed upon her with anything but +ingratitude, flushed and faltered till she with difficulty found +her way, the sentiments of the onlookers became so apparent that +the judge’s gavel was called into requisition before order could be +restored and the next witness summoned to testify. + +This witness was no less a person than Arthur himself. Recalled by his +counsel, he was reminded of his former statement that he had left the +club-house in a hurry because he heard his sister Adelaide’s voice, and +was now asked if hers was the only voice he had heard. + +His answer revealed much of his mind. + +“No, I heard Carmel’s answering her.” + +This satisfying Mr. Moffat, he was passed over to Mr. Fox, and a short +cross-examination ensued on this point. + +“You heard both your sisters speaking?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Any of their words, or only their voices?” + +“I heard one word.” + +“What word?” + +“The word, ‘Elwood.’” + +“In which voice?” + +“In that of my sister Adelaide.” + +“And you fled?” + +“Immediately.” + +“Leaving your two sisters alone in this cold and out-of-the-way house?” + +“I did not think they were alone.” + +“Who did you think was with them?” + +“I have already mentioned the name.” + +“Yet you left them?” + +“Yes, I’ve already explained that. I was engaged in a mean act. I was +ashamed to be caught at it by Adelaide. I preferred flight. I had no +premonition of tragedy--any such tragedy as afterwards occurred. I +understood neither of my sisters and my thoughts were only for myself.” + +“Didn’t you so much as try to account for their both being there?” + +“Not then.” + +“Had you expected Adelaide to accompany your younger sister when you +harnessed the horse for her?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Had not this younger sister even enjoined secrecy upon you in asking +you to harness the horse?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Yet you heard the two together in this remote building without +surprise?” + +“No, I must have felt surprise, but I didn’t stop to analyse my +feelings. Afterward, I turned it over in my mind and tried to make +something out of the whole thing. But that was when I was far out on +the links.” + +A losing game thus far. This the district attorney seemed to feel; +but he was not an ungenerous man though cursed (perhaps, I should say +blessed, considering the position he held) by a tenacity which never +let him lose his hold until the jury gave their verdict. + +“You have a right to explain yourself fully,” said he, after a +momentary struggle in which his generosity triumphed over his pride. +“When you did think of your sisters, what explanation did you give +yourself of the facts we have just been considering?” + +“I could not imagine the truth, so I just satisfied myself that +Adelaide had discovered Carmel’s intentions to ride into town and had +insisted on accompanying her. They were having it out, I thought, in +the presence of the man who had made all this trouble between them.” + +“And you left them to the task?” + +“Yes, sir, but not without a struggle. I was minded several times to +return. This I have testified to before.” + +“Did this struggle consume forty minutes?” + +“It must have and more, if I entered the hold in Cuthbert Road at the +hour they state.” + +Mr. Fox gave up the game, and I looked to be the next person called. +But it was not a part of Mr. Moffat’s plan to weaken the effect +of Carmel’s testimony by offering any weak corroboration of facts +which nobody showed the least inclination to dispute. Satisfied with +having given the jury an opportunity to contrast his client’s present +cheerfulness and manly aspect with the sullenness he had maintained +while in doubt of Carmel’s real connection with this crime, Mr. Moffat +rested his case. + +There was no testimony offered in rebuttal and the court took a recess. + +When it reassembled I cast another anxious glance around. Still no +Carmel, nor any signs of Sweetwater. I could understand her absence, +but not his, and it was in a confusion of feeling which was fast +getting the upper hand of me, that I turned my attention to Mr. Moffat +and the plea he was about to make for his youthful client. + +I do not wish to obtrude myself too much into this trial of another man +for the murder of my betrothed. But when, after a wait during which +the prisoner had a chance to show his mettle under the concentrated +gaze of an expectant crowd, the senior counsel for the defence slowly +rose, and, lifting his ungainly length till his shoulders lost their +stoop and his whole presence acquired a dignity which had been entirely +absent from it up to this decisive moment, I felt a sudden slow and +creeping chill seize and shake me, as I have heard people say they +experienced when uttering the common expression, “Some one is walking +over my grave.” + +It was not that he glanced my way, for this he did not do; yet I +received a subtle message from him, by some telepathic means I could +neither understand nor respond to--a message of warning, or, possibly +of simple preparation for what his coming speech might convey. + +It laid my spirits low for a moment; then they rose as those of a +better man might rise at the scent of danger. If he could warn, he +could also withhold. I would trust him, or I would, at least, trust +my fate. And so, good-bye to self. Arthur’s life and Carmel’s future +peace were trembling in the balance. Surely these were worth the full +attention of the man who loved the woman, who pitied the man. + +At the next moment I heard these words, delivered in the slow and +but slightly raised tones with which Mr. Moffat invariably began his +address: + +“May it please the court and gentlemen of the jury, my learned friend +of the prosecution has shown great discretion in that, so far as +appears from the trend of his examinations, he is planning no attempt +to explain the many silences and the often forbidding attitude of my +young client by any theory save the obvious one--the natural desire of +a brother to hide his only remaining sister’s connection with a tragedy +of whose details he was ignorant, and concerning which he had formed a +theory derogatory to her position as a young and well-bred woman. + +“I am, therefore, spared the task of pressing upon your consideration +these very natural and, I may add, laudable grounds for my client’s +many hesitations and suppressions--which, under other circumstances, +would militate so deeply against him in the eyes of an upright and +impartial jury. Any man with a heart in his breast, and a sense of +honour in his soul, can understand why this man--whatever his record, +and however impervious he may have seemed in the days of his prosperity +and the wilfulness of his youth--should recoil from revelations which +would attack the honour, if not the life, of a young and beautiful +sister, sole remnant of a family eminent in station, and in all those +moral and civic attributes which make for the honour of a town and lend +distinction to its history. + +“Fear for a loved one, even in one whom you will probably hear +described as a dissipated man, of selfish tendencies and hitherto +unbrotherly qualities, is a great miracle-worker. No sacrifice +seems impossible which serves as a guard for one so situated and so +threatened. + +“Let us review his history. Let us disentangle, if we can, our +knowledge of what occurred in the clubhouse, from his knowledge of +it at the time he showed these unexpected traits of self-control and +brotherly anxiety, which you will yet hear so severely scored by my +able opponent. His was a nature in which honourable instincts had +forever battled with the secret predilections of youth for independence +and free living. He rebelled at all monition; but this did not make +him altogether insensible to the secret ties of kinship, or the +claims upon his protection of two highly gifted sisters. Consciously +or unconsciously, he kept watch upon the two; and when he saw that +an extraneous influence was undermining their mutual confidence, he +rebelled in his heart, whatever restraint he may have put upon his +tongue and actions. Then came an evening, when, with heart already +rasped by a personal humiliation, he saw a letter passed. You have +heard the letter and listened to its answer; but he knew nothing beyond +the fact--a fact which soon received a terrible significance from the +events which so speedily followed.” + +Here Mr. Moffat recapitulated those events, but always from the +standpoint of the defendant--a standpoint which necessarily brought +before the jury the many excellent reasons which his client had for +supposing this crime to have resulted solely from the conflicting +interests represented by that furtively passed note, and the visit +of two girls instead of one to The Whispering Pines. It was very +convincing, especially his picture of Arthur’s impulsive flight from +the club-house at the first sound of his sisters’ voices. + +“The learned counsel for the people may call this unnatural,” he +cried. “He may say that no brother would leave the place under such +circumstances, whether sober or not sober, alive to duty or dead to +it--that curiosity would hold him there, if nothing else. But he +forgets, if thus he thinks and thus would have you think, that the +man who now confronts you from the bar is separated by an immense +experience from the boy he was at that hour of surprise and selfish +preoccupation. + +“You who have heard the defendant tell how he could not remember if +he carried up one or two bottles from the kitchen, can imagine the +blank condition of this untutored mind at the moment when those voices +fell upon his ear, calling him to responsibilities he had never before +shouldered, and which he saw no way of shouldering now. In that first +instant of inconsiderate escape, he was alarmed for himself,--afraid of +the discovery of the sneaking act of which he had just been guilty--not +fearful for his sisters. _You_ would have done differently; but you are +all men disciplined to forget yourselves and think first of others, +taught, in the school of life to face responsibility rather than shirk +it. But discipline had not yet reached this unhappy boy--the slave, so +far, of his unfortunate habits. It began its work later; yet not much +later. Before he had half crossed the golf-links, the sense of what he +had done stopped him in middle course, and, reckless of the oncoming +storm, he turned his back upon the place he was making for, only to +switch around again, as craving got the better of his curiosity, or of +that deeper feeling to which my experienced opponent will, no doubt, +touchingly allude when he comes to survey this situation with you. + +“The storm, continuing, obliterated his steps as fast as the ever +whitening spaces beneath received them; but if it had stopped then +and there, leaving those wandering imprints to tell their story, +what a tale we might have read of the first secret conflict in this +awakening soul! I leave you to imagine this history, and pass to the +bitter hour when, racked by a night of dissipation, he was aroused, +indeed, to the magnitude of his fault and the awful consequences of his +self-indulgence, by the news of his elder sister’s violent death and +the hardly less pitiful condition of the younger. + +“The younger!” The pause he here made was more eloquent than any words. +“Is it for me to laud her virtues, or to seek to impress upon you in +this connection, the overwhelming nature of the events which in reality +had laid her mind and body low? You have seen her; you have heard her; +and the memory of the tale she has here told will never leave you, or +lose its hold upon your sympathies or your admiration. If everything +else connected with this case is forgotten, the recollection of that +will remain. You, and I, and all who wait upon your verdict, will in +due time pass from among the living, and leave small print behind us +on the sands of time. But her act will not die, and to it I now offer +the homage of silence, since that would best please her heroic soul, +which broke the bonds of womanly reserve only to save from an unmerited +charge a falsely arraigned brother.” + +The restraint and yet the fire with which Mr. Moffat uttered these +simple words, lifted all hearts and surcharged the atmosphere with +an emotion rarely awakened in a court of law. Not in my pulses +alone was started the electric current of renewed life. The jury, +to a man, glowed with enthusiasm, and from the audience rose one +long and suppressed sigh of answering feeling, which was all the +tribute he needed for his eloquence--or Carmel for her uncalculating, +self-sacrificing deed. I could have called upon the mountains to cover +_me_; but--God be praised--no one thought of me in that hour. Every +throb, every thought was for her. + +At the proper moment of subsiding feeling, Mr. Moffat again raised his +voice: + +“Gentlemen of the jury, you have seen point after point of the +prosecution’s case demolished before your eyes by testimony which +no one has had the temerity to attempt to controvert. What is left? +Mr. Fox will tell you--three strong and unassailable facts. The ring +found in the murdered woman’s casket, the remnants of the tell-tale +bottle discovered in the Cumberland stable, and the opportunity for +crime given by the acknowledged presence of the defendant on or near +the scene of death. He will harp on these facts; he will make much of +them; and he will be justified in doing so, for they are the only links +remaining of the strong chain forged so carefully against my client. + +“But are these points so vital as they seem? Let us consider them, and +see. My client has denied that he dropped anything into his sister’s +casket, much less the ring missing from that sister’s finger. Dare you, +then, convict on this point when, according to count, ten other persons +were seen to drop flowers into this very place--any one of which might +have carried this object with it? + +“And the bit of broken bottle found in or near the defendant’s own +stable! Is he to be convicted on the similarity it offers to the one +known to have come from the club-house wine-vault, while a reasonable +doubt remains of his having been the hand which carried it there? No! +Where there is a reasonable doubt, no high-minded jury will convict; +and I claim that my client has made it plain that there is such a +reasonable doubt.” + +All this and more did Mr. Moffat dilate upon. But I could no longer fix +my mind on details, and much of this portion of his address escaped me. + +But I do remember the startling picture with which he closed. His +argument so far, had been based on the assumption of Arthur’s ignorance +of Carmers purpose in visiting the club-house, or of Adelaide’s attempt +at suicide. His client had left the building when he said he did, +and knew no more of what happened there afterward than circumstances +showed, or his own imagination conceived. But now the advocate took +a sudden turn, and calmly asked the jury to consider with him the +alternative outlined by the prosecution in the evidence set before them. + +“My distinguished opponent,” said he, “would have you believe that the +defendant did not fly at the moment declared, but that he waited to +fulfil the foul deed which is the only serious matter in dispute in +his so nearly destroyed case. I hear as though he were now speaking, +the attack which he will make upon my client when he comes to review +this matter with you. Let me see if I cannot make you hear those words, +too.” And with a daring smile at his discomforted adversary, Alonzo +Moffat launched forth into the following sarcasm: + +“Arthur Cumberland, coming up the kitchen stairs, hears voices +where he had expected total silence--sees light where he had left +total darkness. He has two bottles in his hands, or in his large +coat-pockets. If they are in his hands, he sets them down and steals +forward to listen. He has recognised the voices. They are those of +his two sisters, one of whom had ordered him to hitch up the cutter +for her to escape, as he had every reason to believe, the other. +Curiosity--or is it some nobler feeling--causes him to draw nearer +and nearer to the room in which they have taken up their stand. He +can hear their words now and what are the words he hears? Words that +would thrill the most impervious heart, call for the interference of +the most indifferent. But _he_ is made of ice, welded together with +steel. He sees--for no place save one from which he can watch and see, +_viz_.: the dark dancing hall, would satisfy any man of such gigantic +curiosity--Adelaide fall at Carmel’s feet, in recognition of the great +sacrifice she has made for her. But he does not move; he falls at no +one’s feet; he recognises no nobility, responds to no higher appeal. +Stony and unmoved, he crouches there, and watches and watches--still +curious, or still feeding his hate on the sufferings of the elder, the +forbearance of the younger. + +“And on what does he look? You have already heard, but consider it. +Adelaide, despairing of happiness, decides on death for herself or +sister. Both loving one man, one of the two must give way to the other. +Carmel has done her part; she must now do hers. She has brought poison; +she has brought glasses--three glasses, for three persons, but only two +are on the scene, and so she fills but two. One has only cordial in +it, but the other is, as she believes, deadly. Carmel is to have her +choice; but who believes that Adelaide would ever have let her drink +the poisoned glass? + +“And this man looks on, as the two faces confront each other--one white +with the overthrow of every earthly hope, the other under the stress +of suffering and a fascination of horror sufficient to have laid her +dead, without poison, at the other one’s feet. This is what he sees--_a +brother!_--and he makes no move, then or afterwards, when, the die +cast, Adelaide succumbs to her fear and falls into a seemingly dying +state on the couch. + +“Does he go now? Is his hate or his cupidity satisfied? No! He remains +and listens to the tender interchange of final words, and all the +late precautions of the elder to guard the younger woman’s good name. +Still he is not softened; and when, the critical moment passed, Carmel +rises and totters about the room in her endeavour to fulfil the tasks +enjoined upon her by her sister, he gloats over a death which will give +him independence and gluts himself with every evil thought which could +blind him to the pitiful aspects of a tragedy such as few men in this +world could see unmoved. _A brother_! + +“But this is not the worst. The awful cup of human greed and hatred +is but filled to the brim; it has not yet overflowed. Carmel leaves +the room; she has a telephonic message to deliver. She may be gone a +minute; she may be gone many. Little does he care which; he must see +the dead, look down on the woman who has been like a mother to him, and +see if her influence is forever removed, if his wealth is his, and his +independence forever assured. + +“Safe in the darkness of the gloomy recesses of the dancing hall, he +steals slowly forward. Drawn as by a magnet, he enters the room of +seeming death, draws up to the pillow-laden couch, pulls off first one +cushion, and then another, till face and hands are bare and-- + +“Ah!--there is a movement! death has not, then, done its work. She +lives--the hated one--_lives_! And he is no longer rich, no longer +independent. With a clutch, he seizes her at the feeble seat of life; +and as the breath ceases and her whole body becomes again inert, he +stoops to pull off the ring, which can have no especial value or +meaning for him--and then, repiling the cushions over her, creeps forth +again, takes up the bottles, and disappears from the house. + +“Gentlemen of the jury, this is what my opponent would have you +believe. This will be his explanation of this extraordinary murder. But +when his eloquence meets your ears--when you hear this arraignment, and +the emphasis he will place upon the few points remaining to his broken +case, then ask yourself if you see such a monster in the prisoner now +confronting you from the bar. I do not believe it. I do not believe +that such a monster lives. + +“But you say, _some one_ entered that room--_some one_ stilled the +fluttering life still remaining in that feeble breast. Some one may +have, but that some one was not my client, and it is his guilt or +innocence we are considering now, and it is his life and freedom for +which you are responsible. No brother did that deed; no witness of the +scene which hallowed this tragedy ever lifted hand against the fainting +Adelaide, or choked back a life which kindly fate had spared. + +“Go further for the guilty perpetrator of this most inhuman act; he +stands not in the dock. Guilt shows no such relief as you see in him +to-day. Guilt would remember that his sister’s testimony, under the +cross-examination of the people’s prosecutor, left the charge of murder +still hanging over the defendant’s head. But the brother has forgotten +this. His restored confidence in one who now represents to him father, +mother, and sister has thrown his own fate into the background. Will +you dim that joy--sustain this charge of murder? + +“If in your sense of justice you do so, you forever place this +degenerate son of a noble father, on the list of the most unimaginative +and hate-driven criminals of all time. Is he such a demon? Is he such a +madman? Look in his face to-day, and decide. I am willing to leave his +cause in your hands. It could be placed in no better. + +“May it please your Honour, and gentlemen of the jury, I am done.” + +If any one at that moment felt the arrow of death descending into his +heart, it was not Arthur Cumberland. + + + + +XXXIV + +“STEADY!” + +I am a tainted wether of the flock, +Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit +Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me. +You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio, +Than to live still, and write my epitaph. + +_Merchant of Venice_. + + +Why linger over the result. Arthur Cumberland’s case was won before +Mr. Fox arose to his feet. The usual routine was gone through. The +district attorney made the most of the three facts which he declared +inconsistent with the prisoner’s innocence, just as Mr. Moffat said +he would; but the life was gone from his work, and the result was +necessarily unsatisfactory. + +The judge’s charge was short, but studiously impartial. When the jury +filed out, I said to myself, “They will return in fifteen minutes.” +They returned in ten, with a verdict of acquittal. + +The demonstrations of joy which followed filled my ears, and doubtless +left their impression upon my other senses; but my mind took in +nothing but the apparition of my own form taking his place at the bar, +under circumstances less favourable to acquittal than those which +had exonerated him. It was a picture which set my brain whirling. A +phantom judge, a phantom jury, a phantom circle of faces, lacking +the consideration and confidence of those I saw before me; but not a +phantom prisoner, or any mere dream of outrageous shame and suffering. + +That shame and that suffering had already seized hold of me. With the +relief of young Arthur’s acquittal my faculties had cleared to the +desperate position in which this very acquittal had placed me. + +I saw, as never before, how the testimony which had reinstated Carmel +in my heart and won for her and through her the sympathies of the +whole people, had overthrown every specious reason which I and those +interested in me had been able to advance in contradiction of the +natural conclusion to be drawn from the damning fact of my having been +seen with my fingers on Adelaide’s throat. + +Mr. Moffat’s words rang in my ears: “Some one entered that room; some +one stilled the fluttering life still remaining in that feeble breast; +but that some one was not her brother. You must look further for the +guilty perpetrator of this most inhuman act; some one who had not been +a witness to the scene preceding this tragedy, some one--” he had not +said this but every mind had supplied the omission,--“some one who had +come in later, who came in after Carmel had gone, some one who knew +nothing of the telephone message which was even then hastening the +police to the spot; some one who had every reason for lifting those +cushions and, on meeting _life_--” + +The horror stifled me; I was reeling in my place on the edge of the +crowd, when I heard a quiet voice in my ear: + +“Steady! Their eyes will soon be off of Arthur, and then they will look +at you.” + +It was Clifton, and his word came none too soon. I stiffened under its +quiet force, and, taking his arm, let him lead me out of a side door, +where the crowd was smaller and its attention even more absorbed. + +I soon saw its cause--Carmel was entering the doorway from the street. +She had come to greet her brother; and her face, quite unveiled, was +beaming with beauty and joy. In an instant I forgot myself, forgot +everything but her and the effect she produced upon those about her. No +noisy demonstration here; admiration and love were shown in looks and +the low-breathed prayer for her welfare which escaped from more than +one pair of lips. She smiled and their hearts were hers; she essayed to +move forward and the people crowded back as if at a queen’s passage; +but there was no noise. + +When she reappeared, it was on Arthur’s arm. I had not been able to +move from the place in which we were hemmed; nor had I wished to. I +was hungry for a glance of her eye. Would it turn my way, and, if it +did, would it leave a curse or a blessing behind it? In anxiety for the +blessing, I was willing to risk the curse; and I followed her every +step with hungry glances, until she reached the doorway and turned to +give another shake of the hand to Mr. Moffat, who had followed them. +But she did not see me. + +“I cannot miss it! I must catch her eye!” I whispered to Clifton. “Get +me out of this; it will be several minutes before they can reach the +sleigh. Let me see her, for one instant, face to face.” + +Clifton disapproved, and made me aware of it; but he did my bidding, +nevertheless. In a few moments we were on the sidewalk, and quite by +ourselves; so that, if she turned again she could not fail to observe +me. I had small hope, however, that she would so turn. She and Arthur +were within a few feet of the curb and their own sleigh. + +I had just time to see this sleigh, and note the rejoicing face of +Zadok leaning sideways from the box, when I beheld her pause and slowly +turn her head around and peer eagerly--and with what divine anxiety in +her eyes--back over the heads of those thronging about her, until her +gaze rested fully and sweetly on mine. My heart leaped, then sank down, +down into unutterable depths; for in that instant her face changed, +horror seized upon her beauty, and shook her frantic hold on Arthur’s +arm. + +I heard words uttered very near me, but I did not catch them. I did +feel, however, the hand which was laid strongly and with authority +upon my shoulder; and, tearing my eyes from her face only long enough +to perceive that it was Sweetwater who had thus arrested me, I looked +back at her, in time to see the questions leap from her lips to Arthur, +whose answers I could well understand from the pitying movement in +the crowd and the low hum of restrained voices which ran between her +sinking figure and the spot where I stood apart, with the detective’s +hand on my shoulder. + +She had never been told of the incriminating position in which I had +been seen in the club-house. It had been carefully kept from her, and +she had supposed that my acquittal in the public mind was as certain as +Arthur’s. Now she saw herself undeceived, and the reaction into doubt +and misery was too much for her, and I saw her sinking under my eyes. + +“Let me go to her!” I shrieked, utterly unconcerned with anything in +the world but this tottering, fainting girl. + +But Sweetwater’s hand only tightened on my shoulder, while Arthur, with +an awful look at me, caught his sister in his arms, just as she fell to +the ground before the swaying multitude. + +But he was not the only one to kneel there. With a sound of love and +misery impossible to describe, Zadok had leaped from the box and had +grovelled at those dear feet, kissing the insensible hands and praying +for those shut eyes to open. Even after Arthur had lifted her into +the sleigh, the man remained crouching where she had fallen, with his +eyes roaming back and forth in a sightless stare from her to myself, +muttering and groaning, and totally unheedful of Arthur’s commands to +mount the box and drive home. Finally some one else stepped from the +crowd and mercifully took the reins. I caught one more glimpse of her +face, with Arthur’s bent tenderly over it; then the sleigh slipped away. + +An officer shook Zadok by the arm and he got up and began to move +aside. Then I had mind to face my own fate, and, looking up, I met +Sweetwater’s eye. + +It was quietly apologetic. + +“I only wished to congratulate you,” said he, “on the conclusion of a +case in which I know you are highly interested.” Lifting his hat, he +nodded affably and was gone before I could recover from my stupor. + +It was for Clifton to show his indignation. I was past all feeling. +Farce as an after-piece never appealed to me. + +Would I have considered it farce if I could have heard the words +which this detective was at that moment whispering into the district +attorney’s ears: + +“Do you want to know who throttled Adelaide Cumberland? It was not her +brother; it was not her lover; it was her old and trusted coachman.” + + + + +XXXV + +“AS IF IT WERE A MECCA” + +--I have within my mind +A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks +Which I will practise. + +_Merchant of Venice_. + + +“Give me your reasons. They must be excellent ones, Sweetwater, or you +would not risk making a second mistake in a case of this magnitude and +publicity.” + +“Mr. Fox, they are excellent. But you shall judge of them. From the +moment Miss Carmel Cumberland overthrew the very foundations of our +case by her remarkable testimony, I have felt that my work was only +half done. It was a strain on credulity to believe Arthur guilty of +a crime so prefaced, and the alternative which Mr. Moffat believed +in, which you were beginning to believe in, and perhaps are allowing +yourself to believe in even now, never appealed to me. + +“I allude to the very natural suspicion that the act beheld by your +man Clarke was a criminal act, and that Ranelagh is the man really +responsible for Miss Cumberland’s death. Some instinct held me back +from this conclusion, as well as the incontrovertible fact that he +could have had no hand in carrying that piece of broken bottle into the +Cumberland stable, or of dropping his engagement ring in the suggestive +place where it was found. Where, then, should I look for the unknown, +the unsuspected third party? Among the ten other persons who dropped +something into that casket. + +“Most of these were children, but I made the acquaintance of every one. +I spent most of my Sunday that way; then, finding no clouded eye among +them, I began a study of the Cumberland servants, naturally starting +with Zadok. For two hours I sat at his stable fire, talking and turning +him inside out, as only we detectives know how. I found him actually +overwhelmed with grief; not the grief of a sane man, but of one in whom +the very springs of life are poisoned by some dreadful remorse. + +“He did not know he revealed this; he expressed himself as full of hope +that his young master would be acquitted the next day; but I could see +that this prospect could never still the worm working at his heart, and +resolved to understand why. I left him ostensibly alone, but in reality +shadowed him. The consequence was that, in the evening dusk, he led me +to the cemetery, where he took up his watch at Miss Cumberland’s grave, +as if it were a Mecca and he a passionate devotee. I could hear his +groans as he hung to the fence and spoke softly to the dead; and though +I was too far away to catch a single word, I felt confident that I had +at last struck the right track, and should soon see my way more clearly +than at any time since this baffling case opened. + +“But before I allowed my fancy to run away with me, I put in an evening +of inquiry. If this man had an absolute alibi, what was the use of +wasting effort upon him. But I could not find that he had, Mr. Fox. He +went with the rest of the servants to the ball--which, you know, was +held in Tibbitt’s Hall, on Ford Street and he was seen there later, +dancing and making merry in a way not usual to him. But there was a +space of time dangerously tallying with that of the tragic scene at the +club-house, when he was not seen by any one there, so far as I can make +out; and this fact gave me courage to consider a certain point which +had struck me, and of which I thought something might be made. + +“Mr. Fox, after the fiasco I have made of this affair, it costs me +something to go into petty details which must suggest my former +failures and may not strike you with the force they did me. That broken +bottle-- or rather, that piece of broken bottle! Where was the rest of +it? Sought for almost immediately after the tragedy, it had not been +found at the Cumberland place or on the golf-links. It had been looked +for carefully when the first thaw came; but, though glass was picked +up, it was not the same glass. The task had become hopeless and ere +long was abandoned. + +“But with this idea of Zadok being the means of its transfer from The +Whispering Pines to the house on the Hill, I felt the desire to look +once more, and while court was in session this morning, I started +a fresh search--this time not on the golf-links. Tibbitt’s Hall +communicates more quickly with The Whispering Pines by the club-house +road than by the market one. So I directed my attention to the ground +in front, and on the further side of the driveways. _And I found the +neck of that bottle_! + +“Yes, sir, I will show it to you later. I picked it up at some distance +from the northern driveway, under a small tree, against the trunk of +which it had evidently been struck off. This meant that the lower part +had been carried away, broken. + +“Now, who would do this but Zadok, who saw in it, he has said, a +receptacle for some varnish which he had; and if Zadok, how had he +carried it, if not in some pocket of his greatcoat. But glass edges +make quick work with pockets; and if this piece of bottle had gone from +The Whispering Pines to Tibbitt’s Hall, and from there to the Hill, +there should be some token of its work in Zadok’s overcoat pocket. + +“This led me to look for those tokens; and as I had by this time +insinuated my way into his confidence by a free and cheerful manner +which gave him a rest from his gloomy thoughts, I soon had a chance +to see for myself the condition of those pockets. The result was +quite satisfactory. In one of them I found a frayed lining, easily +explainable on the theory I had advanced. That pocket can be seen by +you. + +“But Mr. Fox, I wanted some real proof. I wasn’t willing to embarrass +another man, or to risk my own reputation on a hazard so blind as this, +without something really definite. A confession was what I wanted, or +such a breakdown of the man as would warrant police action. How could I +get this? + +“I am a pupil of Mr. Gryce, and I remembered some of his methods. + +“This man, guilty though he might be, loved this family, and was +broken-hearted over the trouble in which he saw it plunged. Excused +to-day from attendance at court, he was in constant telephonic +communication with some friend of his, who kept him posted as to the +conduct of the trial and the probabilities of a favourable verdict. + +“If the case had gone against Arthur, we should have heard from his +coachman--that I verily believe, but when we all saw that he was likely +to be acquitted, I realised that some other course must be taken to +shake Zadok from his new won complacency, and I chose the most obvious +one. + +“Just when everything looked most favourable to their restored peace +and happiness, I shocked Miss Carmel and, through her, this Zadok, +into the belief that the whole agony was to be gone over again, in the +rearrest and consequent trial of the man she still loves, in spite of +all that has happened to separate them. + +“He was not proof against this new responsibility. As she fainted, he +leaped from the box; and, could I have heard the words he muttered in +her ear, I am sure that I should have that to give you which would +settle this matter for all time. As it is, I can only say that my own +convictions are absolute; the rest remains with you.” + +“We will go see the man,” said District Attorney Fox. + + + + +XXXVI + +THE SURCHARGED MOMENT + +For Justice, when triumphant, will weep down +Pity, not punishment, on her own wrongs, +Too much avenged by those who err. I wait, +Enduring thus, the retributive hour +Which since we spake is even nearer now. + +_Prometheus Unbound_. + + +The moment I felt Sweetwater’s hand lifted from my shoulder I sprang +into the first hack I could find, and bade the driver follow the +Cumberland sleigh post-haste. I was determined to see Carmel and have +Carmel see me. Whatever cold judgment might say against the meeting, +I could not live in my present anxiety. If the thunderbolt which had +struck her had spared her life and reason she must know from my own +lips that I was not only a free man, but as innocent of the awful +charge conveyed in Sweetwater’s action as was the brother, who had just +been acquitted of it by the verdict of his peers. + +I must declare this, and she must believe me. Nothing else +mattered--nothing else in all the world. That Arthur might stop me, +that anything could stop me, did not disturb my mind for a minute. All +that I dreaded was that I might find myself too late; that this second +blow might have proved to be too much for her, and that I should find +my darling dead or passed from me into that living death which were the +harder punishment of the two. But I was spared this killing grief. When +our two conveyances stopped, it was in the driveway of her old home; +and as I bounded upon the walk, it was to see her again in Arthur’s +arms, but this time with open eyes and horror-drawn features. + +“Carmel!” rushed in a cry from my lips. “Don’t believe what they say. I +cannot bear it--I cannot bear it!” + +She roused; she looked my way, and struggling to her feet, held back +Arthur with one hand while she searched my face--and possibly searched +her own soul--for answer to my plea. Never was moment more surcharged. +Further word I could not speak; I could only meet her eyes with the +steady, demanding look of a despairing heart, while Arthur moved in +every fibre of his awakened manhood, waited--thinking, perhaps, how +few minutes had passed since he hung upon the words of a fellow being +for his condemnation to death, or release to the freedom which he now +enjoyed. + +A moment! But what an eternity before I saw the rigid lines of her +white, set face relax--before I marked the play of human, if not +womanly, emotion break up the misery of her look and soften her +youthful lips into some semblance of their old expression. Love +might be dead--friendship, even, be a thing of the far past--but +consideration was still alive and in another instant it spoke in these +trembling sentences, uttered across a threshold made sacred by a +tragedy involving our three lives: + +“Come in and explain yourself. No man should go unheard. I know you +will not come where Adelaide’s spirit yet lingers, if you cannot bring +hands clean from all actual violence.” + +I motioned my driver away, and as Carmel drew back out of sight, I +caught at Arthur’s arm and faced him with the query: + +“Are you willing that I should enter? I only wish to declare to her, +and to you, an innocence I have no means of proving, but which you +cannot disbelieve if I swear it, here and now, by your sister Carmel’s +sacred disfigurement. Such depravity could not exist, as such a vow +from the lips guilty of the crime you charge me with. Look at me, +Arthur. I considered you--now consider me.” + +Quickly he stepped back. “Enter,” said he. + +It was some minutes later--I cannot say how many--that one of the +servants disturbed us by asking if we knew anything about Zadok. + +“He has not come home,” said he, “and here is a man who wants him.” + +“What man?” asked Arthur. + +“Oh, that detective chap. He never will leave us alone.” + +I arose. In an instant enlightenment had come to me. “It’s nothing,” +said I with my eyes on Carmel; but the gesture I furtively made Arthur, +said otherwise. + +A few minutes later we were both in the driveway. “We are on the brink +of a surprise,” I whispered. “I think I understand this Sweetwater now.” + +Arthur looked bewildered, but he took the lead in the interview which +followed with the man who had made him so much trouble and was now +doing his best to make us all amends. + +Zadok could not be found; he was wanted by the district attorney, who +wished to put some questions to him. Were there any objections to his +searching the stable-loft for indications of his whereabouts? + +Arthur made none; and the detective, after sending the Cumberlands’ +second man before him to light up the stable, disappeared beneath the +great door, whither we more slowly followed him. + +“Not here!” came in a shout from above, as we stepped in from the night +air; and in a few minutes the detective came running down the stairs, +baffled and very ill at ease. Suddenly he encountered my eye. “Oh--I +know!” he cried, and started for the gate. + +“I am going to follow him,” I confided to Arthur. “Look for me again +to-night; or, at least, expect a message. If fortune favours us, as +I now expect, we two shall sleep to-night as we have not slept for +months.” And waiting for no answer, not even to see if he comprehended +my meaning, I made a run for the gate, and soon came up with Sweetwater. + +“To the cemetery?” I asked. + +“Yes, to the cemetery.” + +And there we found him, in the same place where we had seen him before, +but not in the same position. He was sunken now to the ground; but his +face was pressed against the rails, and in his stiff, cold hand was +clutched a letter which afterwards we read. + +Let it be read by you here. It will explain the mystery which came near +destroying the lives of more than Adelaide. + + * * * * * + +No more unhappy wretch than I goes to his account. I killed her who had +shown me only goodness, and will be the death of others if I do not +confess my dreadful, my unsuspected secret. This is how it happened. I +cannot give reasons; I cannot even ask for pardon. + +That night, just as I was preparing to leave the stable to join the +other servants on their ride to Tibbitt’s Hall, the telephone rang and +I heard Miss Cumberland’s voice. “Zadok,” she said--and at first I +could hardly understand her,--“I am in trouble; I want help, and you +are the only one who can aid me. Answer; do you hear me and are you +quite alone in the stable?” I told her yes, and that I was listening to +all she said. I suspected her trouble, and was ready to stand by her, +if a man like me could do anything. + +I had been with her many years, and I loved her as well as I could love +anybody; though you won’t think it when I tell you my whole story. What +she wanted was this: I was to go to the ball just as if nothing had +happened, but I was not to stay there. As soon as I could, I was to +slip out, get a carriage from some near-by stable, and hurry back up +the road to meet her and take her where she would tell me; or, if I did +not meet her, to wait two houses below hers, till she came along. She +would not want me long, and very soon I could go back and have as good +a time as I pleased. But she would like me to be secret, for her errand +was not one for gossip, even among her own servants. + +It was the first time she had ever asked me to do anything for her +which any one else might not have done, and I was proud of her +confidence, and happy to do just what she asked. I even tried to do +better, and be even more secret about it than she expected. Instead of +going to a stable, I took one of the rigs which I found fastened up +in the big shed alongside the hall; and being so fortunate as not to +attract anybody’s attention by this business, I was out on the road and +half way to The Whispering Pines, before Helen and Maggie could wonder +why I had not asked them to dance. + +A few minutes later I was on the Hill, for the horse I had chosen was a +fast one; and I was just turning into our street when I was passed by +Mr. Arthur’s grey mare and cutter. This made me pull up for a minute, +for I hadn’t expected this; but on looking ahead and seeing Miss +Cumberland peering from our own gateway, I drove quickly on and took +her up. + +I was not so much astonished as you would think, to be ordered to +follow fast after the mare and cutter, and to stop where it stopped. +That was all she wanted--to follow that cutter, and to stop where it +stopped. Well, it stopped at the club-house; and when she saw it turn +in there, I heard her give a little gasp. + +“Wait,” she whispered. “Wait till she has had time to get out and go +in; then drive in, too, and help me to find my way into the building +after her.” + +And then I knew it was Miss Carmel we had been following. Before, I +thought it was Mr. Arthur. + +Presently, she pulled me by the sleeve. “I heard the door shut,” said +she--and I was a little frightened at her voice, but I was full of my +importance, and went on doing just as she bade me. Driving in after the +cutter, I drew up into the shadows where the grey mare was hid, and +then, reaching out my hand to Miss Cumberland, I helped her out, and +went with her as far as the door. “You may go back now,” said she. “If +I survive the night, I shall never forget this service, my good Zadok.” +And I saw her lift her hand to the door, then fall back white and +trembling in the moonlight. “I can’t,” she whispered, over and over; “I +can’t--I can’t.” + +“Shall I knock?” I asked. + +“No, no,” she whispered back. “I want to go in quietly; let’s see if +there’s no other way. Run about the house, Zadok; I will submit to +any humiliation; only find me some entrance other than this.” She was +shaking so and her face looked so ghastly in the moonlight that I was +afraid to leave her; but she made me a gesture of such command that I +ran quickly down the steps, and so round the house till I came to a +shed over the top of which I saw a window partly open. + +Could I get her up on to the shed? I thought I could, and went hurrying +back to the big entrance where I had left her. She was still there, +shivering with the cold, but just as determined as ever. “Come,” I +whispered; “I have found a way.” + +She gave me her hand and I led her around to the shed. She was like +a snow woman and her touch was ice itself. “Wait till I get a box or +board or something,” I said. Hunting about, I found a box leaning +against the kitchen side, and, bringing it, I helped her up and soon +had her on a level with the window. + +As she made her way in, she turned and whispered to me: “Go back now. +Carmel has a horse, and will see me home. You have served me well, +Zadok.” + +I nodded, and she vanished into the darkness. Then I should have gone; +but my curiosity was too great. I wanted to know just a little more. +Two women in this desolate and bitterly cold club-house! What did it +mean? + +I could not restrain myself from following her in and listening, for a +few minutes, to what they had to say. But I did not catch much of it; +and when I heard other sounds from some place below, and recognised +these sounds as a man’s heavy footsteps coming up the rear stairs, I +got a fright at being where I should not be, and slipped into the first +door I found, expecting this man to come out and join the ladies. + +But he did not; he just lingered for a moment in the hall I had left, +then I heard him clamber out of the window and go. I now know that this +was Mr. Arthur. But I did not know it then, and I was frightened for +the horse I had run off with, and so got out of the building as quickly +as I could. + +And all might yet have been well if I had not found, lying on the snow +at the foot of the shed, a bottle of whiskey such as I had never drunk +and did not know how to resist. Catching it up, I ran about the house +to where I had left my rig. It was safe, and in my relief at finding +it, I knocked off the head of the bottle and took a long drink. + +Then I drank again; then I sat down in the snow and drank again. In +short, I nearly finished it; then I became confused; I looked at the +piece of broken bottle in my hand, took a fancy to its shape, and +breaking off a bit more, thrust it into one of my big pockets. Then I +staggered up to the horse; but I did not untie him. + +Curiosity seized me again, and I thought I would take another look at +the ladies--perhaps they might want me--perhaps--I was pretty well +confused, but I went back and crawled once more into the window. + +This time the place was silent--not a sound, not a breath,--but I could +see a faint glimmer of light. I followed this glimmer. Still there was +no sound. + +I came to an open door. A couch was before me, heaped with cushions. A +long ray of moonlight had shot in through a communicating door, and I +could see everything by it. This was where the ladies had been when I +listened before, but they were not here now. + +Weren’t they? Why did I tremble so, then, and stare and stare at those +cushions? Why did I feel I must pull them away, as I presently did? I +was mad with liquor and might easily have imagined what I there saw; +but I did not think of this then. I believed what I saw instantly. Miss +Cumberland was dead, and I had discovered the crime. She had killed +herself--no, she had been killed! + +Should I yell out murder? No, no; I could be sorry without that. I +would not yell--mistresses were plenty. I had liked her, but I need not +yell. There was something else I could do. + +She had a ring on her finger--a ring that for months I had gloated +over and watched, as I had never watched and gloated over any other +beautiful thing in my life. I wanted it--I had always wanted it. It was +before me, for the taking now--I should be a fool to leave it there for +some other wretch to pilfer. I had loved her--I would love the ring. + +Reaching down, I took it. I drew it from her finger; I put it in my +pocket; I--God in heaven! The eyes I had seen glassed in death were +looking at me. + +She was not dead--she had been witness of the theft. Without a +thought of what I was doing, my hands closed round her throat. It was +drink--fright--terror at the look she gave me--which made me kill her; +not my real self. My real self could have shrieked when, in another +instant, I saw my work. + +But shrieking would not bring her back and it would quite ruin me. Miss +Carmel was somewhere near. I heard her now at the telephone; in another +minute she would come out and meet me. I dared not linger. + +Tossing back the pillows, I stumbled from the place. Why I was not +heard by my young mistress, I do not know; her ears were deaf, just as +my eyes were half-blind. In a half hour I was dancing with the maids, +telling them of the pretty stranger with whom I had been sitting out an +hour of fun in a quiet corner. They believed me, and not a particle of +suspicion has any man ever had of me since. + +But others have had to suffer, and that has made hell of my nights. +I restored the ring to my poor mistress; but even that brought harm +to one I had no quarrel with. But he has escaped conviction; and if I +thought Mr. Ranelagh would also escape, I might have courage to live +out my miserable life, and seek to make amends in the way she would +have me. + +But I fear for him; I fear for Miss Carmel. Never could I testify in +another trial which threatened her peace of mind. I see that, instead +of being the selfish stealer of her sister’s happiness, as I had +thought, she is an angel from whom all future suffering should be kept. + +This is my way of sparing her. Perhaps it will help her sister to +forgive me when we meet in the world to which I am now going. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10083 *** |