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diff --git a/1857-h/1857-h.htm b/1857-h/1857-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c9bc3d --- /dev/null +++ b/1857-h/1857-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12495 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Initials Only + +Author: Anna Katharine Green + +Release Date: October 10, 2008 [EBook #1857] +Last Updated: October 3, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INITIALS ONLY *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + INITIALS ONLY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Anna Katharine Green + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>BOOK I. AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. POINSETTIAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. “I KNOW THE MAN” </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. THE MAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. THE RED CLOAK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. INTEGRITY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. THE LETTERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> <b>BOOK II. AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER</b> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S + HEART </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. A CONCESSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XV. THAT’S THE QUESTION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVI. OPPOSED </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVII. IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XVIII. WHAT AM I TO DO NOW </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XIX. THE DANGER MOMENT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XX. CONFUSION </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> XXI. A CHANGE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> XXII. O. B. AGAIN </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> <b>BOOK III. THE HEART OF MAN</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> XXIII. DORIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> XXIV. SUSPENSE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> XXV. THE OVAL HUT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XXVIII. I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> XXX. CHAOS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> XXXII. TELL ME, TELL IT ALL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> XXXIII. ALONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> XXXIV. THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> XXXV. SILENCE—AND A KNOCK </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> XXXVII. HIS GREAT HOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> XXXVIII. NIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> XXXIX. THE AVENGER </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> XL. DESOLATE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> XLI. FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> XLII. AT SIX </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + BOOK I. AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. POINSETTIAS + </h2> + <p> + “A remarkable man!” + </p> + <p> + It was not my husband speaking, but some passerby. However, I looked up at + George with a smile, and found him looking down at me with much the same + humour. We had often spoken of the odd phrases one hears in the street, + and how interesting it would be sometimes to hear a little more of the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a case in point,” he laughed, as he guided me through the crowd of + theatre-goers which invariably block this part of Broadway at the hour of + eight. “We shall never know whose eulogy we have just heard. ‘A remarkable + man!’ There are not many of them.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” was my somewhat indifferent reply. It was a keen winter night and + snow was packed upon the walks in a way to throw into sharp relief the + figures of such pedestrians as happened to be walking alone. “But it seems + to me that, so far as general appearance goes, the one in front answers + your description most admirably.” + </p> + <p> + I pointed to a man hurrying around the corner just ahead of us. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he’s remarkably well built. I noticed him when he came out of the + Clermont.” This was a hotel we had just passed. + </p> + <p> + “But it’s not only that. It’s his height, his very striking features, his + expression—” I stopped suddenly, gripping George’s arm convulsively + in a surprise he appeared to share. We had turned the corner immediately + behind the man of whom we were speaking and so had him still in full view. + </p> + <p> + “What’s he doing?” I asked, in a low whisper. We were only a few feet + behind. “Look! look! don’t you call that curious?” + </p> + <p> + My husband stared, then uttered a low, “Rather.” The man ahead of us, + presenting in every respect the appearance of a gentleman, had suddenly + stooped to the kerb and was washing his hands in the snow, furtively, but + with a vigour and purpose which could not fail to arouse the strangest + conjectures in any chance onlooker. + </p> + <p> + “Pilate!” escaped my lips, in a sort of nervous chuckle. But George shook + his head at me. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t like it,” he muttered, with unusual gravity. “Did you see his + face?” Then as the man rose and hurried away from us down the street, “I + should like to follow him. I do believe—” + </p> + <p> + But here we became aware of a quick rush and sudden clamour around the + corner we had just left, and turning quickly, saw that something had + occurred on Broadway which was fast causing a tumult. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the matter?” I cried. “What can have happened? Let’s go see, + George. Perhaps it has something to do with our man.” + </p> + <p> + My husband, with a final glance down the street at the fast disappearing + figure, yielded to my importunity, and possibly to some new curiosity of + his own. + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to stop that man first,” said he. “But what excuse have I? He + may be nothing but a crank, with some crack-brained idea in his head. + We’ll soon know; for there’s certainly something wrong there on Broadway.” + </p> + <p> + “He came out of the Clermont,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “I know. If the excitement isn’t there, what we’ve just seen is simply a + coincidence.” Then, as we retraced our steps to the corner “Whatever we + hear or see, don’t say anything about this man. It’s after eight, + remember, and we promised Adela that we would be at the house before + nine.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember.” + </p> + <p> + It was the last word he had time to speak before we found ourselves in the + midst of a crowd of men and women, jostling one another in curiosity or in + the consternation following a quick alarm. All were looking one way, and, + as this was towards the entrance of the Clermont, it was evident enough to + us that the alarm had indeed had its origin in the very place we had + anticipated. I felt my husband’s arm press me closer to his side as we + worked our way towards the entrance, and presently caught a warning sound + from his lips as the oaths and confused cries everywhere surrounding us + were broken here and there by articulate words and we heard: + </p> + <p> + “Is it murder?” + </p> + <p> + “The beautiful Miss Challoner!” + </p> + <p> + “A millionairess in her own right!” + </p> + <p> + “Killed, they say.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! suddenly dead; that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “George, what shall we do?” I managed to cry into my husband’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of this. There is no chance of our reaching that door, and I + can’t have you standing round any longer in this icy slush.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but is it right?” I urged, in an importunate whisper. “Should + we go home while he—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! My first duty is to you. We will go make our visit; but to-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t wait till to-morrow,” I pleaded, wild to satisfy my curiosity in + regard to an event in which I naturally felt a keen personal interest. + </p> + <p> + He drew me as near to the edge of the crowd as he could. There were new + murmurs all about us. + </p> + <p> + “If it’s a case of heart-failure, why send for the police?” asked one. + </p> + <p> + “It is better to have an officer or two here,” grumbled another. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes a cop.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m going to vamoose.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” whispered George, who, for all his bluster + was as curious as myself. “We will try the rear door where there are fewer + persons. Possibly we can make our way in there, and if we can, Slater will + tell us all we want to know.” + </p> + <p> + Slater was the assistant manager of the Clermont, and one of George’s + oldest friends. + </p> + <p> + “Then hurry,” said I. “I am being crushed here.” + </p> + <p> + George did hurry, and in a few minutes we were before the rear entrance of + the great hotel. There was a mob gathered here also, but it was neither so + large nor so rough as the one on Broadway. Yet I doubt if we should have + been able to work our way through it if Slater had not, at that very + instant, shown himself in the doorway, in company with an officer to whom + he was giving some final instructions. George caught his eye as soon as he + was through with the man, and ventured on what I thought a rather uncalled + for plea. + </p> + <p> + “Let us in, Slater,” he begged. “My wife feels a little faint; she has + been knocked about so by the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + The manager glanced at my face, and shouted to the people around us to + make room. I felt myself lifted up, and that is all I remember of this + part of our adventure. For, affected more than I realised by the + excitement of the event, I no sooner saw the way cleared for our entrance + than I made good my husband’s words by fainting away in earnest. + </p> + <p> + When I came to, it was suddenly and with perfect recognition of my + surroundings. The small reception room to which I had been taken was one I + had often visited, and its familiar features did not hold my attention for + a moment. What I did see and welcome was my husband’s face bending close + over me, and to him I spoke first. My words must have sounded oddly to + those about. “Have they told you anything about it?” I asked. “Did he—” + </p> + <p> + A quick pressure on my arm silenced me, and then I noticed that we were + not alone. Two or three ladies stood near, watching me, and one had + evidently been using some restorative, for she held a small vinaigrette in + her hand. To this lady, George made haste to introduce me, and from her I + presently learned the cause of the disturbance in the hotel. + </p> + <p> + It was of a somewhat different nature from what I expected, and during the + recital, I could not prevent myself from casting furtive and inquiring + glances at George. + </p> + <p> + Edith, the well-known daughter of Moses Challoner, had fallen suddenly + dead on the floor of the mezzanine. She was not known to have been in poor + health, still less in danger of a fatal attack, and the shock was + consequently great to her friends, several of whom were in the building. + Indeed, it was likely to prove a shock to the whole community, for she had + great claims to general admiration, and her death must be regarded as a + calamity to persons in all stations of life. + </p> + <p> + I realised this myself, for I had heard much of the young lady’s private + virtues, as well as of her great beauty and distinguished manner. A heavy + loss, indeed, but— + </p> + <p> + “Was she alone when she fell?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Virtually alone. Some persons sat on the other side of the room, reading + at the big round table. They did not even hear her fall. They say that the + band was playing unusually loud in the musicians’ gallery.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you feeling quite well, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite myself,” I gratefully replied as I rose slowly from the sofa. Then, + as my kind informer stepped aside, I turned to George with the proposal we + should go now. + </p> + <p> + He seemed as anxious as myself to leave and together we moved towards the + door, while the hum of excited comment which the intrusion of a fainting + woman had undoubtedly interrupted, recommenced behind us till the whole + room buzzed. + </p> + <p> + In the hall we encountered Mr. Slater, whom I have before mentioned. He + was trying to maintain order while himself in a state of great agitation. + Seeing us, he could not refrain from whispering a few words into my + husband’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor has just gone up—her doctor, I mean. He’s simply + dumbfounded. Says that she was the healthiest woman in New York yesterday—I + think—don’t mention it, that he suspects something quite different + from heart failure.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked George, following the assistant manager down the + broad flight of steps leading to the office. Then, as I pressed up close + to Mr. Slater’s other side, “She was by herself, wasn’t she, in the half + floor above?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and had been writing a letter. She fell with it still in her hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Have they carried her to her room?” I eagerly inquired, glancing + fearfully up at the large semi-circular openings overlooking us from the + place where she had fallen. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. Mr. Hammond insists upon waiting for the coroner.” (Mr. Hammond + was the proprietor of the hotel.) “She is lying on one of the big couches + near which she fell. If you like, I can give you a glimpse of her. She + looks beautiful. It’s terrible to think that she is dead.” + </p> + <p> + I don’t know why we consented. We were under a spell, I think. At all + events, we accepted his offer and followed him up a narrow staircase open + to very few that night. At the top, he turned upon us with a warning + gesture which I hardly think we needed, and led us down a narrow hall + flanked by openings corresponding to those we had noted from below. At the + furthest one he paused and, beckoning us to his side, pointed across the + lobby into the large writing-room which occupied the better part of the + mezzanine floor. + </p> + <p> + We saw people standing in various attitudes of grief and dismay about a + couch, one end of which only was visible to us at the moment. The doctor + had just joined them, and every head was turned towards him and every body + bent forward in anxious expectation. I remember the face of one grey + haired old man. I shall never forget it. He was probably her father. + Later, I knew him to be so. Her face, even her form, was entirely hidden + from us, but as we watched (I have often thought with what heartless + curiosity) a sudden movement took place in the whole group—and for + one instant a startling picture presented itself to our gaze. Miss + Challoner was stretched out upon the couch. She was dressed as she came + from dinner, in a gown of ivory-tinted satin, relieved at the breast by a + large bouquet of scarlet poinsettias. I mention this adornment, because it + was what first met and drew our eyes and the eyes of every one about her, + though the face, now quite revealed, would seem to have the greater + attraction. But the cause was evident and one not to be resisted. The + doctor was pointing at these poinsettias in horror and with awful meaning, + and though we could not hear his words, we knew almost instinctively, both + from his attitude and the cries which burst from the lips of those about + him, that something more than broken petals and disordered laces had met + his eyes; that blood was there—slowly oozing drops from the heart—which + for some reason had escaped all eyes till now. + </p> + <p> + Miss Challoner was dead, not from unsuspected disease, but from the + violent attack of some murderous weapon; As the realisation of this + brought fresh panic and bowed the old father’s head with emotions even + more bitter than those of grief, I turned a questioning look up at + George’s face. + </p> + <p> + It was fixed with a purpose I had no trouble in understanding. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. “I KNOW THE MAN” + </h2> + <p> + Yet he made no effort to detain Mr. Slater, when that gentleman, under + this renewed excitement, hastily left us. He was not the man to rush into + anything impulsively, and not even the presence of murder could change his + ways. + </p> + <p> + “I want to feel sure of myself,” he explained. “Can you bear the strain of + waiting around a little longer, Laura? I mustn’t forget that you fainted + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can bear it; much better than I could bear going to Adela’s in my + present state of mind. Don’t you think the man we saw had something to do + with this? Don’t you believe—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Let us listen rather than talk. What are they saying over there? + Can you hear?” + </p> + <p> + “No. And I cannot bear to look. Yet I don’t want to go away. It’s all so + dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you for a + moment. Do you mind?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; yet—” + </p> + <p> + I did mind; but he was gone before I could take back my word. Alone, I + felt the tragedy much more than when he was with me. Instead of watching, + as I had hitherto done, every movement in the room opposite, I drew back + against the wall and hid my eyes, waiting feverishly for George’s return. + </p> + <p> + He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of + increased agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Laura,” said he, “Slater says that we may possibly be wanted and proposes + that we stay here all night. I have telephoned Adela and have made it all + right at home. Will you come to your room? This is no place for you.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could have pleased me better; to be near and yet not the direct + observer of proceedings in which we took so secret an interest! I showed + my gratitude by following George immediately. But I could not go without + casting another glance at the tragic scene I was leaving. A stir was + perceptible there, and I was just in time to see its cause. A tall, + angular gentleman was approaching from the direction of the musicians’ + gallery, and from the manner of all present, as well as from the whispered + comment of my husband, I recognised in him the special official for whom + all had been waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to tell him?” was my question to George as we made our way + down to the lobby. + </p> + <p> + “That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite remote + from this business.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not like that.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, my dear, but it is best.” + </p> + <p> + I could not gainsay this. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, after the first few minutes of relief, I found it very + lonesome upstairs. The pictures which crowded upon me of the various + groups of excited and wildly gesticulating men and women through which we + had passed on our way up, mingled themselves with the solemn horror of the + scene in the writing-room, with its fleeting vision of youth and beauty + lying pulseless in sudden death. I could not escape the one without + feeling the immediate impress of the other, and if by chance they both + yielded for an instant to that earlier scene of a desolate street, with + its solitary lamp shining down on the crouched figure of a man washing his + shaking hands in a drift of freshly fallen snow, they immediately rushed + back with a force and clearness all the greater for the momentary lapse. + </p> + <p> + I was still struggling with these fancies when the door opened, and George + came in. There was news in his face as I rushed to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—tell,” I begged. + </p> + <p> + He tried to smile at my eagerness, but the attempt was ghastly. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been listening and looking,” said he, “and this is all I have + learned. Miss Challoner died, not from a stroke or from disease of any + kind, but from a wound reaching the heart. No one saw the attack, or even + the approach or departure of the person inflicting this wound. If she was + killed by a pistol-shot, it was at a distance, and almost over the heads + of the persons sitting at the table we saw there. But the doctors shake + their heads at the word pistol-shot, though they refuse to explain + themselves or to express any opinion till the wound has been probed. This + they are going to do at once, and when that question is decided, I may + feel it my duty to speak and may ask you to support my story.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell what I saw,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. That is all that will be required. We are strangers to the + parties concerned, and only speak from a sense of justice. It may be that + our story will make no impression, and that we shall be dismissed with but + few thanks. But that is nothing to us. If the woman has been murdered, he + is the murderer. With such a conviction in my mind, there can be no doubt + as to my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “We can never make them understand how he looked.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I don’t expect to.” + </p> + <p> + “Or his manner as he fled.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor that either.” + </p> + <p> + “We can only describe what we saw him do.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don’t believe + he shot her.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have.” + </p> + <p> + “But they would have seen—have heard—the people around, I + mean.” + </p> + <p> + “So they say; but I have a theory—but no matter about that now. I’m + going down again to see how things have progressed. I’ll be back for you + later. Only be ready.” + </p> + <p> + Be ready! I almost laughed,—a hysterical laugh, of course, when I + recalled the injunction. Be ready! This lonely sitting by myself, with + nothing to do but think was a fine preparation for a sudden appearance + before those men—some of them police-officers, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + But that’s enough about myself; I’m not the heroine of this story. In a + half hour or an hour—I never knew which—George reappeared only + to tell me that no conclusions had as yet been reached; an element of + great mystery involved the whole affair, and the most astute detectives on + the force had been sent for. Her father, who had been her constant + companion all winter, had not the least suggestion to offer in way of its + solution. So far as he knew—and he believed himself to have been in + perfect accord with his daughter—she had injured no one. She had + just lived the even, happy and useful life of a young woman of means, who + sees duties beyond those of her own household and immediate surroundings. + If, in the fulfillment of those duties, she had encountered any obstacle + to content, he did not know it; nor could he mention a friend of hers—he + would even say lovers, since that was what he meant—who to his + knowledge could be accused of harbouring any such passion of revenge as + was manifested in this secret and diabolical attack. They were all + gentlemen and respected her as heartily as they appeared to admire her. To + no living being, man or woman, could he point as possessing any motive for + such a deed. She had been the victim of some mistake, his lovely and ever + kindly disposed daughter, and while the loss was irreparable he would + never make it unendurable by thinking otherwise. + </p> + <p> + Such was the father’s way of looking at the matter, and I own that it made + our duty a trifle hard. But George’s mind, when once made up, was + persistent to the point of obstinacy, and while he was yet talking he led + me out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Slater knows we have something to say, and will manage the interview + before us in the very best manner,” he confided to me now with an + encouraging air. “We are to go to the blue reception room on the parlour + floor.” + </p> + <p> + I nodded, and nothing more was said till we entered the place mentioned. + Here we came upon several gentlemen, standing about, of a more or less + professional appearance. This was not very agreeable to one of my retiring + disposition, but a look from George brought back my courage, and I found + myself waiting rather anxiously for the questions I expected to hear put. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slater was there according to his promise, and after introducing us, + briefly stated that we had some evidence to give regarding the terrible + occurrence which had just taken place in the house. + </p> + <p> + George bowed, and the chief spokesman—I am sure he was a + police-officer of some kind—asked him to tell what it was. + </p> + <p> + George drew himself up—George is not one of your tall men, but he + makes a very good appearance at times. Then he seemed suddenly to + collapse. The sight of their expectation made him feel how flat and + childish his story would sound. I, who had shared his adventure, + understood his embarrassment, but the others were evidently at a loss to + do so, for they glanced askance at each other as he hesitated, and only + looked back when I ventured to say: + </p> + <p> + “It’s the peculiarity of the occurrence which affects my husband. The + thing we saw may mean nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear what it was and we will judge.” + </p> + <p> + Then my husband spoke up, and related our little experience. If it did not + create a sensation, it was because these men were well accustomed to + surprises of all kinds. + </p> + <p> + “Washed his hands—a gentleman—out there in the snow—just + after the alarm was raised here?” repeated one. + </p> + <p> + “And you saw him come out of this house?” another put in. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; we noticed him particularly.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you describe him?” + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Slater who put this question; he had less control over himself, + and considerable eagerness could be heard in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “He was a very fine-looking man; unusually tall and unusually striking + both in his dress and appearance. What I could see of his face was bare of + beard, and very expressive. He walked with the swing of an athlete, and + only looked mean and small when he was stooping and dabbling in the snow.” + </p> + <p> + “His clothes. Describe his clothes.” There was an odd sound in Mr. + Slater’s voice. + </p> + <p> + “He wore a silk hat and there was fur on his overcoat. I think the fur was + black.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slater stepped back, then moved forward again with a determined air. + </p> + <p> + “I know the man,” said he. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE MAN + </h2> + <p> + “You know the man?” + </p> + <p> + “I do; or rather, I know a man who answers to this description. He comes + here once in a while. I do not know whether or not he was in the building + to-night, but Clausen can tell you; no one escapes Clausen’s eye.” + </p> + <p> + “His name.” + </p> + <p> + “Brotherson. A very uncommon person in many respects; quite capable of + such an eccentricity, but incapable, I should say, of crime. He’s a gifted + talker and so well read that he can hold one’s attention for hours. Of his + tastes, I can only say that they appear to be mainly scientific. But he is + not averse to society, and is always very well dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together.” + </p> + <p> + “This man is an exception to all rules. The one I’m speaking of, I mean. I + don’t say that he’s the fellow seen pottering in the snow.” + </p> + <p> + “Call up Clausen.” + </p> + <p> + The manager stepped to the telephone. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, George had advanced to speak to a man who had beckoned to him + from the other side of the room, and with whom in another moment I saw him + step out. Thus deserted, I sank into a chair near one of the windows. + Never had I felt more uncomfortable. To attribute guilt to a totally + unknown person—a person who is little more to you than a shadowy + silhouette against a background of snow—is easy enough and not very + disturbing to the conscience. But to hear that person named; given + positive attributes; lifted from the indefinite into a living, breathing + actuality, with a man’s hopes, purposes and responsibilities, is an + entirely different proposition. This Brotherson might be the most innocent + person alive; and, if so, what had we done? Nothing to congratulate + ourselves upon, certainly. And George was not present to comfort and + encourage me. He was— + </p> + <p> + Where was he? The man who had carried him off was the youngest in the + group. What had he wanted of George? Those who remained showed no interest + in the matter. They had enough to say among themselves. But I was + interested—naturally so, and, in my uneasiness, glanced restlessly + from the window, the shade of which was up. The outlook was a very + peaceful one. This room faced a side street, and, as my eyes fell upon the + whitened pavements, I received an answer to one, and that the most + anxious, of my queries. This was the street into which we had turned, in + the wake of the handsome stranger they were trying at this very moment to + identify with Brotherson. George had evidently been asked to point out the + exact spot where the man had stopped, for I could see from my vantage + point two figures bending near the kerb, and even pawing at the snow which + lay there. It gave me a slight turn when one of them—I do not think + it was George—began to rub his hands together in much the way the + unknown gentleman had done, and, in my excitement, I probably uttered some + sort of an ejaculation, for I was suddenly conscious of a silence in the + room, and when I turned saw all the men about me looking my way. + </p> + <p> + I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I raised my + hand and pointed down at the street. + </p> + <p> + “They are imitating the man,” I cried; “my husband and—and the + person he went out with. It looked dreadful to me; that is all.” + </p> + <p> + One of the gentlemen immediately said some kind words to me, and another + smiled in a very encouraging way. But their attention was soon diverted, + and so was mine by the entrance of a man in semi-uniform, who was + immediately addressed as Clausen. + </p> + <p> + I knew his face. He was one of the doorkeepers; the oldest employee about + the hotel, and the one best liked. I had often exchanged words with him + myself. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Slater at once put his question: + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson! I don’t remember, really I don’t,” was the unexpected + reply. “It’s not often I forget. But so many people came rushing in during + those few minutes, and all so excited—” + </p> + <p> + “Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly just + before.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, now I recall him! Yes, Mr. Brotherson went out of my door not many + minutes before the cry upstairs. I forgot because I had stepped back from + the door to hand a lady the muff she had dropped, and it was at that + minute he went out. I just got a glimpse of his back as he passed into the + street.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are sure of that back?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know another like it, when he wears that big coat of his. But Jim + can tell you, sir. He was in the cafe up to that minute, and that’s where + Mr. Brotherson usually goes first.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him.” + </p> + <p> + The old man bowed and went out. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Mr. Slater had exchanged some words with the two officials, and + now approached me with an expression of extreme consideration. They were + about to excuse me from further participation in this informal inquiry. + This I saw before he spoke. Of course they were right. But I should + greatly have preferred to stay where I was till George came back. + </p> + <p> + However, I met him for an instant in the hall before I took the elevator, + and later I heard in a round-about way what Jim and some others about the + house had to say of Mr. Brotherson. + </p> + <p> + He was an habitue of the hotel, to the extent of dining once or twice a + week in the cafe, and smoking, afterwards, in the public lobby. When he + was in the mood for talk, he would draw an ever-enlarging group about him, + but at other times he would be seen sitting quite alone and morosely + indifferent to all who approached him. There was no mystery about his + business. He was an inventor, with one or two valuable patents already on + the market. But this was not his only interest. He was an all round sort + of man, moody but brilliant in many ways—a character which at once + attracted and repelled, odd in that he seemed to set little store by his + good looks, yet was most careful to dress himself in a way to show them + off to advantage. If he had means beyond the ordinary no one knew it, nor + could any man say that he had not. On all personal matters he was very + close-mouthed, though he would talk about other men’s riches in a way to + show that he cherished some very extreme views. + </p> + <p> + This was all which could be learned about him off-hand, and at so late an + hour. I was greatly interested, of course, and had plenty to think of till + I saw George again and learned the result of the latest investigations. + </p> + <p> + Miss Challoner had been shot, not stabbed. No other deduction was possible + from such facts as were now known, though the physicians had not yet + handed in their report, or even intimated what that report would be. No + assailant could have approached or left her, without attracting the notice + of some one, if not all of the persons seated at a table in the same room. + She could only have been reached by a bullet sent from a point near the + head of a small winding staircase connecting the mezzanine floor with a + coat-room adjacent to the front door. This has already been insisted on, + as you will remember, and if you will glance at the diagram which George + hastily scrawled for me, you will see why. + </p> + <p> + A. B., as well as C. D., are half circular openings into the office lobby. + E. F. are windows giving upon Broadway, and G. the party wall, necessarily + unbroken by window, door or any other opening. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + _____________________G.______ + | ===desk | + | | + | Where Miss C Fell-x o + | A o + | o + E o + | _____ | + | |_____|table | + | o + | o + | B o + | o + | ________ H ________ | + | *** | | + | ** ** |elevator | + | ** staircase + | ** ** X. |_________|_____C_________D____ + | *** + F Musician’s Gallery + |____ ______________ ________________ ______ + | + | Dining Room Level With Lobby +</pre> + <p> + It follows then that the only possible means of approach to this room lies + through the archway H., or from the elevator door. But the elevator made + no stop at the mezzanine on or near the time of the attack upon Miss + Challoner; nor did any one leave the table or pass by it in either + direction till after the alarm given by her fall. + </p> + <p> + But a bullet calls for no approach. A man at X. might raise and fire his + pistol without attracting any attention to himself. The music, which all + acknowledge was at its full climax at this moment, would drown the noise + of the explosion, and the staircase, out of view of all but the victim, + afford the same means of immediate escape, which it must have given of + secret and unseen approach. The coat-room into which it descended + communicated with the lobby very near the main entrance, and if Mr. + Brotherson were the man, his sudden appearance there would thus be + accounted for. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, this gentleman had not been noticed in the coatroom by the man + then in charge, but if the latter had been engaged at that instant, as he + often was, in hanging up or taking down a coat from the rack, a person + might easily pass by him and disappear into the lobby without attracting + his attention. So many people passed that way from the dining-room beyond, + and so many of these were tall, fine-looking and well-dressed. + </p> + <p> + It began to look bad for this man, if indeed he were the one we had seen + under the street-lamp; and, as George and I reviewed the situation, we + felt our position to be serious enough for us severally to set down our + impressions of this man before we lost our first vivid idea. I do not know + what George wrote, for he sealed his words up as soon as he had finished + writing, but this is what I put on paper while my memory was still fresh + and my excitement unabated: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + He had the look of a man of powerful intellect and determined will, + who shudders while he triumphs; who outwardly washes his hands of + a deed over which he inwardly gloats. This was when he first rose + from the snow. Afterwards he had a moment of fear; plain, human, + everyday fear. But this was evanescent. Before he had turned to + go, he showed the self-possession of one who feels himself so + secure, or is so well-satisfied with himself, that he is no longer + conscious of other emotions. +</pre> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” I commented aloud, as I folded up these words; “he reckoned + without you, George. By to-morrow he will be in the hands of the police.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow?” he repeated. “Better say ‘Poor Miss Challoner!’ They tell + me she was one of those perfect women who reconcile even the pessimist to + humanity and the age we live in. Why any one should want to kill her is a + mystery; but why this man should—There! no one professes to explain + it. They simply go by the facts. To-morrow surely must bring strange + revelations.” + </p> + <p> + And with this sentence ringing in my mind, I lay down and endeavoured to + sleep. But it was not till very late that rest came. The noise of passing + feet, though muffled beyond their wont, roused me in spite of myself. + These footsteps might be those of some late arrival, or they might be + those of some wary detective intent on business far removed from the usual + routine of life in this great hotel. + </p> + <p> + I recalled the glimpse I had had of the writing-room in the early evening, + and imagined it as it was with Miss Challoner’s body removed and the + incongruous flitting of strange and busy figures across its fatal floors, + measuring distances and peering into corners, while hundreds slept above + and about them in undisturbed repose. + </p> + <p> + Then I thought of him, the suspected and possibly guilty one. In visions + over which I had little if any control, I saw him in all the restlessness + of a slowly dying down excitement—the surroundings strange and + unknown to me, the figure not—seeking for quiet; facing the past; + facing the future; knowing, perhaps, for the first time in his life what + it was for crime and remorse to murder sleep. I could not think of him as + lying still—slumbering like the rest of mankind, in the hope and + expectation of a busy morrow. Crime perpetrated looms so large in the + soul, and this man had a soul as big as his body; of that I was assured. + That its instincts were cruel and inherently evil, did not lessen its + capacity for suffering. And he was suffering now; I could not doubt it, + remembering the lovely face and fragrant memory of the noble woman he had, + under some unknown impulse, sent to an unmerited doom. + </p> + <p> + At last I slept, but it was only to rouse again with the same quick + realisation of my surroundings, which I had experienced on my recovery + from my fainting fit of hours before. Someone had stopped at our door + before hurrying by down the hall. Who was that someone? I rose on my + elbow, and endeavoured to peer through the dark. Of course, I could see + nothing. But when I woke a second time, there was enough light in the + room, early as it undoubtedly was, for me to detect a letter lying on the + carpet just inside the door. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I was on my feet. Catching the letter up, I carried it to the + window. Our two names were on it—Mr. and Mrs. George Anderson: the + writing, Mr. Slater’s. + </p> + <p> + I glanced over at George. He was sleeping peacefully. It was too early to + wake him, but I could not lay that letter down unread; was not my name on + it? Tearing it open, I devoured its contents,—the exclamation I made + on reading it, waking George. + </p> + <p> + The writing was in Mr. Slater’s hand, and the words were: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I must request, at the instance of Coroner Heath and such of + the police as listened to your adventure, that you make no + further mention of what you saw in the street under our windows + last night. The doctors find no bullet in the wound. This + clears Mr. Brotherson.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + </h2> + <p> + When we took our seats at the breakfast-table, it was with the feeling of + being no longer looked upon as connected in any way with this case. Yet + our interest in it was, if anything, increased, and when I saw George + casting furtive glances at a certain table behind me, I leaned over and + asked him the reason, being sure that the people whose faces I saw + reflected in the mirror directly before us had something to do with the + great matter then engrossing us. His answer conveyed the somewhat exciting + information that the four persons seated in my rear were the same four who + had been reading at the round table in the mezzanine at the time of Miss + Challoner’s death. + </p> + <p> + Instantly they absorbed all my attention, though I dared not give them a + direct look, and continued to observe them only in the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Is it one family?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a very respectable one. Transients, of course, but very well + known in Denver. The lady is not the mother of the boys, but their aunt. + The boys belong to the gentleman, who is a widower.” + </p> + <p> + “Their word ought to be good.” + </p> + <p> + George nodded. + </p> + <p> + “The boys look wide-awake enough if the father does not. As for the aunt, + she is sweetness itself. Do they still insist that Miss Challoner was the + only person in the room with them at this time?” + </p> + <p> + “They did last night. I don’t know how they will meet this statement of + the doctor’s.” + </p> + <p> + “George?” + </p> + <p> + He leaned nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever thought that she might have been a suicide? That she + stabbed herself?” + </p> + <p> + “No, for in that case a weapon would have been found.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you sure that none was?” + </p> + <p> + “Positive. Such a fact could not have been kept quiet. If a weapon had + been picked up there would be no mystery, and no necessity for further + police investigation.” + </p> + <p> + “And the detectives are still here?” + </p> + <p> + “I just saw one.” + </p> + <p> + “George?” + </p> + <p> + Again his head came nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Have they searched the lobby? I believe she had a weapon.” + </p> + <p> + “Laura!” + </p> + <p> + “I know it sounds foolish, but the alternative is so improbable. A family + like that cannot be leagued together in a conspiracy to hide the truth + concerning a matter so serious. To be sure, they may all be short-sighted, + or so little given to observation that they didn’t see what passed before + their eyes. The boys look wide-awake enough, but who can tell? I would + sooner believe that—” + </p> + <p> + I stopped short so suddenly that George looked startled. My attention had + been caught by something new I saw in the mirror upon which my attention + was fixed. A man was looking in from the corridor behind, at the four + persons we were just discussing. He was watching them intently, and I + thought I knew his face. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a looking person was the man who took you outside last + night?” I inquired of George, with my eyes still on this furtive watcher. + </p> + <p> + “A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously homely + but agreeable enough. I took quite a fancy to him. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I am looking at him now.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. He’s deep in this affair. Just an everyday detective, but + ambitious, I suppose, and quite alive to the importance of being + thorough.” + </p> + <p> + “He is watching those people. No, he isn’t. How quickly he disappeared!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he’s mercurial in all his movements. Laura, we must get out of this. + There happens to be something else in the world for me to do than to sit + around and follow up murder clews.” + </p> + <p> + But we began to doubt if others agreed with him, when on passing out we + were stopped in the lobby by this same detective, who had something to say + to George, and drew him quickly aside. + </p> + <p> + “What does he want?” I asked, as soon as George had returned to my side. + </p> + <p> + “He wants me to stand ready to obey any summons the police may send me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they still suspect Brotherson?” + </p> + <p> + “They must.” + </p> + <p> + My head rose a trifle as I glanced up at George. + </p> + <p> + “Then we are not altogether out of it?” I emphasised, complacently. + </p> + <p> + He smiled which hardly seemed apropos. Why does George sometimes smile + when I am in my most serious moods. + </p> + <p> + As we stepped out of the hotel, George gave my arm a quiet pinch which + served to direct my attention to an elderly gentleman who, was just + alighting from a taxicab at the kerb. He moved heavily and with some + appearance of pain, but from the crowd collected on the sidewalk many of + whom nudged each other as he passed, he was evidently a person of some + importance, and as he disappeared within the hotel entrance, I asked + George who this kind-faced, bright-eyed old gentleman could be. + </p> + <p> + He appeared to know, for he told me at once that he was Detective Gryce; a + man who had grown old in solving just such baffling problems as these. + </p> + <p> + “He gave up work some time ago, I have been told,” my husband went on; + “but evidently a great case still has its allurement for him. The trail + here must be a very blind one for them to call him in. I wish we had not + left so soon. It would have been quite an experience to see him at work.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if you would have been given the opportunity. I noticed that we + were slightly de trop towards the last.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn’t have minded that; not on my own account, that is. It might not + have been pleasant for you. However, the office is waiting. Come, let me + put you on the car.” + </p> + <p> + That night I bided his coming with an impatience I could not control. He + was late, of course, but when he did appear, I almost forgot our usual + greeting in my hurry to ask him if he had seen the evening papers. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. “Been pushed about all day. + No time for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me tell you—” + </p> + <p> + But he would have dinner first. + </p> + <p> + However, a little later we had a comfortable chat. Mr. Gryce had made a + discovery, and the papers were full of it. It was one which gave me a + small triumph over George. The suggestion he had laughed at was not so + entirely foolish as he had been pleased to consider it. But let me tell + the story of that day, without any further reference to myself. + </p> + <p> + The opinion had become quite general with those best acquainted with the + details of this affair, that the mystery was one of those abnormal ones + for which no solution would ever be found, when the aged detective showed + himself in the building and was taken to the room, where an Inspector of + Police awaited him. Their greeting was cordial, and the lines on the + latter’s face relaxed a little as he met the still bright eye of the man + upon whose instinct and judgment so much reliance had always been placed. + </p> + <p> + “This is very good of you,” he began, glancing down at the aged + detective’s bundled up legs, and gently pushing a chair towards him. “I + know that it was a great deal to ask, but we’re at our wits’ end, and so I + telephoned. It’s the most inexplicable—There! you have heard that + phrase before. But clews—there are absolutely none. That is, we have + not been able to find any. Perhaps you can. At least, that is what we + hope. I’ve known you more than once to succeed where others have failed.” + </p> + <p> + The elderly man thus addressed, glanced down at his legs, now propped up + on a stool which someone had brought him, and smiled, with the pathos of + the old who sees the interests of a lifetime slipping gradually away. + </p> + <p> + “I am not what I was. I can no longer get down on my hands and knees to + pick up threads from the nap of a rug, or spy out a spot of blood in the + crimson woof of a carpet.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have Sweetwater here to do the active work for you. What we + want of you is the directing mind—the infallible instinct. It’s a + case in a thousand, Gryce. We’ve never had anything just like it. You’ve + never had anything at all like it. It will make you young again.” + </p> + <p> + The old man’s eyes shot fire and unconsciously one foot slipped to the + floor. Then he bethought himself and painfully lifted it back again. + </p> + <p> + “What are the points? What’s the difficulty?” he asked. “A woman has been + shot—” + </p> + <p> + “No, not shot, stabbed. We thought she had been shot, for that was + intelligible and involved no impossibilities. But Drs. Heath and Webster, + under the eye of the Challoners’ own physician, have made an examination + of the wound—an official one, thorough and quite final so far as + they are concerned, and they declare that no bullet is to be found in the + body. As the wound extends no further than the heart, this settles one + great point, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Heath is a reliable man and one of our ablest coroners.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. There can be no question as to the truth of his report. You know the + victim? Her name, I mean, and the character she bore?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; so much was told me on my way down.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine girl unspoiled by riches and seeming independence. Happy, too, to + all appearance, or we should be more ready to consider the possibility of + suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “Suicide by stabbing calls for a weapon. Yet none has been found, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet she was killed that way?” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than a needle + but not so large as the ordinary stiletto.” + </p> + <p> + “Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She had no + companion near her?” + </p> + <p> + “None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who were + seated at the other end of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do believe them?” + </p> + <p> + “Would a whole family lie—and needlessly? They never knew the woman—father, + maiden aunt and two boys, clear-eyed, jolly young chaps whom even the + horror of this tragedy, perpetrated as it were under their very nose, + cannot make serious for more than a passing moment.” + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn’t seem so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet they swear up and down that nobody crossed the room towards Miss + Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “So they tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “She fell just a few feet from the desk where she had been writing. No + word, no cry, just a collapse and sudden fall. In olden days they would + have said, struck by a bolt from heaven. But it was a bolt which drew + blood; not much blood, I hear, but sufficient to end life almost + instantly. She never looked up or spoke again. What do you make of it, + Gryce?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a tough one, and I’m not ready to venture an opinion yet. I should + like to see the desk you speak of, and the spot where she fell.” + </p> + <p> + A young fellow who had been hovering in the background at once stepped + forward. He was the plain-faced detective who had spoken to George. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take my arm, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce’s whole face brightened. This Sweetwater, as they called him, + was, I have since understood, one of his proteges and more or less of a + favourite. + </p> + <p> + “Have you had a chance at this thing?” he asked. “Been over the ground—studied + the affair carefully?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; they were good enough to allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then, you’re in a position to pioneer me. You’ve seen it all + and won’t be in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I’m at the end of my rope. I haven’t an idea, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, that’s honest at all events.” Then, as he slowly rose with + the other’s careful assistance, “There’s no crime without its clew. The + thing is to recognise that clew when seen. But I’m in no position, to make + promises. Old days don’t return for the asking.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he looked ten years younger than when he came in, or so + thought those who knew him. + </p> + <p> + The mezzanine was guarded from all visitors save such as had official + sanction. Consequently, the two remained quite uninterrupted while they + moved about the place in quiet consultation. Others had preceded them; had + examined the plain little desk and found nothing; had paced off the + distances; had looked with longing and inquiring eyes at the elevator cage + and the open archway leading to the little staircase and the musicians’ + gallery. But this was nothing to the old detective. The locale was what he + wanted, and he got it. Whether he got anything else it would be impossible + to say from his manner as he finally sank into a chair by one of the + openings, and looked down on the lobby below. It was full of people coming + and going on all sorts of business, and presently he drew back, and, + leaning on Sweetwater’s arm, asked him a few questions. + </p> + <p> + “Who were the first to rush in here after the Parrishes gave the alarm?” + </p> + <p> + “One or two of the musicians from the end of the hall. They had just + finished their programme and were preparing to leave the gallery. + Naturally they reached her first.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! their names?” + </p> + <p> + “Mark Sowerby and Claus Hennerberg. Honest Germans—men who have + played here for years.” + </p> + <p> + “And who followed them? Who came next on the scene?” + </p> + <p> + “Some people from the lobby. They heard the disturbance and rushed up + pell-mell. But not one of these touched her. Later her father came.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did touch her? Anybody, before the father came in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Miss Clarke, the middle-aged lady with the Parrishes. She had run + towards Miss Challoner as soon as she heard her fall, and was sitting + there with the dead girl’s head in her lap when the musicians showed + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she has been carefully questioned?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “And she speaks of no weapon?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Neither she nor any one else at that moment suspected murder or even + a violent death. All thought it a natural one—sudden, but the result + of some secret disease.” + </p> + <p> + “Father and all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But the blood? Surely there must have been some show of blood?” + </p> + <p> + “They say not. No one noticed any. Not till the doctor came—her + doctor who was happily in his office in this very building. He saw the + drops, and uttered the first suggestion of murder.” + </p> + <p> + “How long after was this? Is there any one who has ventured to make an + estimate of the number of minutes which elapsed from the time she fell, to + the moment when the doctor first raised the cry of murder?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at the time, + says that ten minutes at least must have elapsed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes and no blood! The weapon must still have been there. Some + weapon with a short and inconspicuous handle. I think they said there were + flowers over and around the place where it struck?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, great big scarlet ones. Nobody noticed—nobody looked. A panic + like that seems to paralyse people.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten minutes! I must see every one who approached her during those ten + minutes. Every one, Sweetwater, and I must myself talk with Miss Clarke.” + </p> + <p> + “You will like her. You will believe every word she says.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt. All the more reason why I must see her. Sweetwater, someone + drew that weapon out. Effects still have their causes, notwithstanding the + new cult. The question is who? We must leave no stone unturned to find + that out.” + </p> + <p> + “The stones have all been turned over once.” + </p> + <p> + “By you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not altogether by me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they will bear being turned over again. I want to be witness of the + operation.” + </p> + <p> + “Where will you see Miss Clarke?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever she pleases—only I can’t walk far.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know the place. You shall have the use of this elevator. It has + not been running since last night or it would be full of curious people + all the time, hustling to get a glimpse of this place. But they’ll put a + man on for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; manage it as you will. I’ll wait here till you’re ready. + Explain yourself to the lady. Tell her I’m an old and rheumatic invalid + who has been used to asking his own questions. I’ll not trouble her much. + But there is one point she must make clear to me.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be fully + enlightened when the time came. + </p> + <p> + And he was. Mr. Gryce had undertaken to educate him for this work, and + never missed the opportunity of giving him a lesson. The three met in a + private sitting-room on an upper floor, the detectives entering first and + the lady coming in soon after. As her quiet figure appeared in the + doorway, Sweetwater stole a glance at Mr. Gryce. He was not looking her + way, of course; he never looked directly at anybody; but he formed his + impressions for all that, and Sweetwater was anxious to make sure of these + impressions. There was no doubting them in this instance. Miss Clarke was + not a woman to rouse an unfavourable opinion in any man’s mind. Of slight, + almost frail build, she had that peculiar animation which goes with a + speaking eye and a widely sympathetic nature. Without any substantial + claims to beauty, her expression was so womanly and so sweet that she was + invariably called lovely. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce was engaged at the moment in shifting his cane from the right + hand to the left, but his manner was never more encouraging or his smile + more benevolent. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he apologised, with one of his old-fashioned bows, “I’m sorry + to trouble you after all the distress you must have been under this + morning. But there is something I wish especially to ask you in regard to + the dreadful occurrence in which you played so kind a part. You were the + first to reach the prostrate woman, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. The boys jumped up and ran towards her, but they were frightened by + her looks and left it for me to put my hands under her and try to lift her + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + “I succeeded in getting her head into my lap, nothing more.” + </p> + <p> + “And sat so?” + </p> + <p> + “For some little time. That is, it seemed long, though I believe it was + not more than a minute before two men came running from the musicians’ + gallery. One thinks so fast at such a time—and feels so much.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew she was dead, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I felt her to be so.” + </p> + <p> + “How felt?” + </p> + <p> + “I was sure—I never questioned it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen women in a faint?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, many times.” + </p> + <p> + “What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner dead + simply because she lay still and apparently lifeless?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only know how I + felt.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or + unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her heart?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Clarke started, and her sweet face showed a moment’s perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” she queried, musingly. Then with a sudden access of feeling, “I + may have done so, indeed, I believe I did. My arms were around her; it + would not have been an unnatural action.” + </p> + <p> + “No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me positively + whether you did this or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. I had forgotten it, but I remember now.” And the glance she + cast him while not meeting his eye showed that she understood the + importance of the admission. “I know,” she said, “what you are going to + ask me now. Did I feel anything there but the flowers and the tulle? No, + Mr. Gryce, I did not. There was no poniard in the wound.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it. + </p> + <p> + “You are a truthful woman,” said he. “And,” he added more slowly, + “composed enough in character I should judge not to have made any mistake + on this very vital point.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, Mr. Gryce. I was in a state of excitement, of course; but the + woman was a stranger to me, and my feelings were not unduly agitated.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweetwater, we can let my suggestion go in regard to those ten minutes I + spoke of. The time is narrowed down to one, and in that one, Miss Clarke + was the only person to touch her.” + </p> + <p> + “The only one,” echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight rising sound + of query in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I will trouble you no further.” So said the old detective, thoughtfully. + “Sweetwater, help me out of this.” His eye was dull and his manner + betrayed exhaustion. But vigour returned to him before he had well reached + the door, and he showed some of his old spirit as he thanked Miss Clarke + and turned to take the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “But one possibility remains,” he confided to Sweetwater, as they stood + waiting at the elevator door. “Miss Challoner died from a stab. The next + minute she was in this lady’s arms. No weapon protruded from the wound, + nor was any found on or near her in the mezzanine. What follows? She + struck the blow herself, and the strength of purpose which led her to do + this, gave her the additional force to pull the weapon out and fling it + from her. It did not fall upon the floor around her; therefore, it flew + through one of those openings into the lobby, and there it either will be, + or has been found.” + </p> + <p> + It was this statement, otherwise worded, which gave me my triumph over + George. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. THE RED CLOAK + </h2> + <p> + “What results? Speak up, Sweetwater.” + </p> + <p> + “None. Every man, woman and boy connected with the hotel has been + questioned; many of them routed out of their beds for the purpose, but not + one of them picked up anything from the floor of the lobby, or knows of + any one who did.” + </p> + <p> + “There now remain the guests.” + </p> + <p> + “And after them—(pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which + rushed in rather promiscuously last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it; it’s a task, but it must be carried through. Put up bulletins, + publish your wants in the papers;—do anything, only gain your end.” + </p> + <p> + A bulletin was put up. + </p> + <p> + Some hours later, Sweetwater re-entered the room, and, approaching Mr. + Gryce with a smile, blurted out: + </p> + <p> + “The bulletin is a great go. I think—of course, I cannot be sure—that + it’s going to do the business. I’ve watched every one who stopped to read + it. Many showed interest and many, emotion; she seems to have had a troop + of friends. But embarrassment! only one showed that. I thought you would + like to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Embarrassment? Humph! a man?” + </p> + <p> + “No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients. I found out in a jiffy + all they could tell me about her.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman! We didn’t expect that. Where is she? Still in the lobby?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. She took the elevator while I was talking with the clerk.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s nothing in it. You mistook her expression.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so. I had noticed her when she first came into the lobby. + She was talking to her daughter who was with her, and looked natural and + happy. But no sooner had she seen and read that bulletin, than the blood + shot up into her face and her manner became furtive and hasty. There was + no mistaking the difference, sir. Almost before I could point her out, she + had seized her daughter by the arm and hurried her towards the elevator. I + wanted to follow her, but you may prefer to make your own inquiries. Her + room is on the seventh floor, number 712, and her name is Watkins. Mrs. + Horace Watkins of Nashville.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce nodded thoughtfully, but made no immediate effort to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all you know about her?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; this is the first time she has stopped at this hotel. She came + yesterday. Took a room indefinitely. Seems all right; but she did blush, + sir. I ever saw its beat in a young girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Call the desk. Say that I’m to be told if Mrs. Watkins of Nashville rings + up during the next ten minutes. We’ll give her that long to take some + action. If she fails to make any move, I’ll make my own approaches.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater did as he was bid, then went back to his place in the lobby. + </p> + <p> + But he returned almost instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to—to + leave, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “To leave?” + </p> + <p> + The old man struggled to his feet. “No. 712, do you say? Seven stories,” + he sighed. But as he turned with a hobble, he stopped. “There are + difficulties in the way of this interview,” he remarked. “A blush is not + much to go upon. I’m afraid we shall have to resort to the shadow business + and that is your work, not mine.” + </p> + <p> + But here the door opened and a boy brought in a line which had been left + at the desk. It related to the very matter then engaging them, and ran + thus: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I see that information is desired as to whether any person was + seen to stoop to the lobby floor last night at or shortly after + the critical moment of Miss Challoner’s fall in the half story + above. I can give such information. I was in the lobby at the + time, and in the height of the confusion following this alarming + incident, I remember seeing a lady,—one of the new arrivals + (there were several coming in at the time)—stoop quickly down + and pick up something from the floor. I thought nothing of it at + the time, and so paid little attention to her appearance. I can + only recall the suddenness with which she stooped and the colour + of the cloak she wore. It was red, and the whole garment was + voluminous. If you wish further particulars, though in truth, I + have no more to give, you can find me in 356. + + “HENRY A. MCELROY.” + </pre> + <p> + “Humph! This should simplify our task,” was Mr. Gryce’s comment, as he + handed the note over to Sweetwater. “You can easily find out if the lady, + now on the point of departure, can be identified with the one described by + Mr. McElroy. If she can, I am ready to meet her anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Here goes then!” cried Sweetwater, and quickly left the room. + </p> + <p> + When he returned, it was not with his most hopeful air. + </p> + <p> + “The cloak doesn’t help,” he declared. “No one remembers the cloak. But + the time of Mrs. Watkins’ arrival was all right. She came in directly on + the heels of this catastrophe.” + </p> + <p> + “She did! Sweetwater, I will see her. Manage it for me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “The clerk says that it had better be upstairs. She is a very sensitive + woman. There might be a scene, if she were intercepted on her way out.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” But the look which the old detective threw at his bandaged + legs was not without its pathos. + </p> + <p> + And so it happened that just as Mrs. Watkins was watching the wheeling out + of her trunks, there appeared in the doorway before her, an elderly + gentleman, whose expression, always benevolent, save at moments when + benevolence would be quite out of keeping with the situation, had for some + reason, so marked an effect upon her, that she coloured under his eye, + and, indeed, showed such embarrassment, that all doubt of the propriety of + his intrusion vanished from the old man’s mind, and with the ease of one + only too well accustomed to such scenes, he kindly remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Am I speaking to Mrs. Watkins of Nashville?” + </p> + <p> + “You are,” she faltered, with another rapid change of colour. “I—I + am just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could,” he smiled, hobbling in and confronting her quietly in + her own room. “But circumstances make it quite imperative that I should + have a few words with you on a topic which need not be disagreeable to + you, and probably will not be. My name is Gryce. This will probably convey + nothing to you, but I am not unknown to the management below, and my years + must certainly give you confidence in the propriety of my errand. A + beautiful and charming young woman died here last night. May I ask if you + knew her?” + </p> + <p> + “I?” She was trembling violently now, but whether with indignation or some + other more subtle emotion, it would be difficult to say. “No, I’m from the + South. I never saw the young lady. Why do you ask? I do not recognise your + right. I—I—” + </p> + <p> + Certainly her emotion must be that of simple indignation. Mr. Gryce made + one of his low bows, and propping himself against the table he stood + before, remarked civilly:— + </p> + <p> + “I had rather not force my rights. The matter is so very ordinary. I did + not suppose you knew Miss Challoner, but one must begin somehow, and as + you came in at the very moment when the alarm was raised in the lobby, I + thought perhaps you could tell me something which would aid me in my + effort to elicit the real facts of the case. You were crossing the lobby + at the time—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” She raised her head. “So were a dozen others—” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,”—the interruption was made in his kindliest tones, but in a + way which nevertheless suggested authority. “Something was picked up from + the floor at that moment. If the dozen you mention were witnesses to this + act we do not know it. But we do know that it did not pass unobserved by + you. Am I not correct? Didn’t you see a certain person—I will + mention no names—stoop and pick up something from the lobby floor?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” The word came out with startling violence. “I was conscious of + nothing but the confusion.” She was facing him with determination and her + eyes were fixed boldly on his face. But her lips quivered, and her cheeks + were white, too white now for simple indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Then I have made a big mistake,” apologised the ever-courteous detective. + “Will you pardon me? It would have settled a very serious question if it + could be found that the object thus picked up was the weapon which killed + Miss Challoner. That is my excuse for the trouble I have given you.” + </p> + <p> + He was not looking at her; he was looking at her hand which rested on the + table before which he himself stood. Did the fingers tighten a little and + dig into the palm they concealed? He thought so, and was very slow in + turning limpingly about towards the door. Meanwhile, would she speak? No. + The silence was so marked, he felt it an excuse for stealing another + glance in her direction. She was not looking his way but at a door in the + partition wall on her right; and the look was one very akin to anxious + fear. The next moment he understood it. The door burst open, and a young + girl bounded into the room, with the merry cry: + </p> + <p> + “All ready, mother. I’m glad we are going to the Clarendon. I hate hotels + where people die almost before your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + What the mother said at this outburst is immaterial. What the detective + did is not. Keeping on his way, he reached the door, but not to open it + wider; rather to close it softly but with unmistakable decision. The cloak + which enveloped the girl was red, and full enough to be called voluminous. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this?” demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing from one + to the other. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” faltered the mother in very evident distress. “He says he + has a right to ask us questions and he has been asking questions about—about—” + </p> + <p> + “Not about me,” laughed the girl, with a toss of her head Mr. Gryce would + have corrected in one of his grandchildren. “He can have nothing to say + about me.” And she began to move about the room in an aimless, + half-insolent way. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce stared hard at the few remaining belongings of the two women, + lying in a heap on the table, and half musingly, half deprecatingly, + remarked: + </p> + <p> + “The person who stooped wore a long red cloak. Probably you preceded your + daughter, Mrs. Watkins.” + </p> + <p> + The lady thus brought to the point made a quick gesture towards the girl + who suddenly stood still, and, with a rising colour in her cheeks, + answered, with some show of resolution on her own part: + </p> + <p> + “You say your name is Gryce and that you have a right to address me thus + pointedly on a subject which you evidently regard as serious. That is not + exact enough for me. Who are you, sir? What is your business?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you have guessed it. I am a detective from Headquarters. What I + want of you I have already stated. Perhaps this young lady can tell me + what you cannot. I shall be pleased if this is so.” + </p> + <p> + “Caroline”—Then the mother broke down. “Show the gentleman what you + picked up from the lobby floor last night.” + </p> + <p> + The girl laughed again, loudly and with evident bravado, before she threw + the cloak back and showed what she had evidently been holding in her hand + from the first, a sharp-pointed, gold-handled paper-cutter. + </p> + <p> + “It was lying there and I picked it up. I don’t see any harm in that.” + </p> + <p> + “You probably meant none. You couldn’t have known the part it had just + played in this tragic drama,” said the old detective looking carefully at + the cutter which he had taken in his hand, but not so carefully that he + failed to note that the look of distress was not lifted from the mother’s + face either by her daughter’s words or manner. + </p> + <p> + “You have washed this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No. Why should I wash it? It was clean enough. I was just going down to + give it in at the desk. I wasn’t going to carry it away.” And she turned + aside to the window and began to hum, as though done with the whole + matter. + </p> + <p> + The old detective rubbed his chin, glanced again at the paper-cutter, then + at the girl in the window, and lastly at the mother, who had lifted her + head again and was facing him bravely. + </p> + <p> + “It is very important,” he observed to the latter, “that your daughter + should be correct in her statement as to the condition of this article + when she picked it up. Are you sure she did not wash it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think she did. But I’m sure she will tell you the truth about + that. Caroline, this is a police matter. Any mistake about it may involve + us in a world of trouble and keep you from getting back home in time for + your coming-out party. Did you—did you wash this cutter when you got + upstairs, or—or—” she added, with a propitiatory glance at Mr. + Gryce—“wipe it off at any time between then and now? Don’t answer + hastily. Be sure. No one can blame you for that act. Any girl, as + thoughtless as you, might do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, how can I tell what I did?” flashed out the girl, wheeling round + on her heel till she faced them both. “I don’t remember doing a thing to + it. I just brought it up. A thing found like that belongs to the finder. + You needn’t hold it out towards me like that. I don’t want it now; I’m + sick of it. Such a lot of talk about a paltry thing which couldn’t have + cost ten dollars.” And she wheeled back. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t the value.” Mr. Gryce could be very patient. “It’s the fact that + we believe it to have been answerable for Miss Challoner’s death—that + is, if there was any blood on it when you picked it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Blood!” The girl was facing them again, astonishment struggling with + disgust on her plain but mobile features. “Blood! is that what you mean. + No wonder I hate it. Take it away,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, I’ll never pick up anything again which doesn’t belong to me! + Blood!” she repeated in horror, flinging herself into her mother’s arms. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce thought he understood the situation. Here was a little + kleptomaniac whose weakness the mother was struggling to hide. Light was + pouring in. He felt his body’s weight less on that miserable foot of his. + </p> + <p> + “Does that frighten you? Are you so affected by the thought of blood?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me. And I put the thing under my pillow! I thought it was so—so + pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Watkins,” Mr. Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter, “did you + see it there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I didn’t know where it came from. I had not seen my daughter + stoop. I didn’t know where she got it till I read that bulletin.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that. The question agitating me is whether any stain was left + under that pillow. We want to be sure of the connection between this + possible weapon and the death by stabbing which we all deplore—if + there is a connection.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t see any stain, but you can look for yourself. The bed has been + made up, but there was no change of linen. We expected to remain here; I + see no good to be gained by hiding any of the facts now.” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever, Madam.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, then. Caroline, sit down and stop crying. Mr. Gryce believes that + your only fault was in not taking this object at once to the desk.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s all,” acquiesced the detective after a short study of the + shaking figure and distorted features of the girl. “You had no idea, I’m + sure, where this weapon came from, or for what it had been used. That’s + evident.” + </p> + <p> + Her shudder, as she seated herself, was very convincing. She was too young + to simulate so successfully emotions of this character. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad of that,” she responded, half fretfully, half gratefully, as Mr. + Gryce followed her mother into the adjoining room. “I’ve had a bad enough + time of it without being blamed for what I didn’t know and didn’t do.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce laid little stress upon these words, but much upon the lack of + curiosity she showed in the minute and careful examination he now made of + her room. There was no stain on the pillow-cover and none on the + bureau-spread where she might very naturally have laid the cutter down on + first coming into her room. The blade was so polished that it must have + been rubbed off somewhere, either purposely or by accident. Where then, + since not here? He asked to see her gloves—the ones she had worn the + previous night. + </p> + <p> + “They are the same she is wearing now,” the anxious mother assured him. + “Wait, and I will get them for you.” + </p> + <p> + “No need. Let her hold out her hands in token of amity. I shall soon see.” + </p> + <p> + They returned to where the girl still sat, wrapped in her cloak, sobbing + still, but not so violently. + </p> + <p> + “Caroline, you may take off your things,” said the mother, drawing the + pins from her own hat. “We shall not go to-day.” + </p> + <p> + The child shot her mother one disappointed look, then proceeded to follow + suit. When her hat was off, she began to take off her gloves. As soon as + they were on the table, the mother pushed them over to Mr. Gryce. As he + looked at them, the girl lifted off her cloak. + </p> + <p> + “Will—will he tell?” she whispered behind its ample folds into her + mother’s ear. + </p> + <p> + The answer came quickly, but not in the mother’s tones. Mr. Gryce’s ears + had lost none of their ancient acuteness. + </p> + <p> + “I do not see that I should gain much by doing so. The one discovery which + would link this find of yours indissolubly with Miss Challoner’s death, I + have failed to make. If I am equally unsuccessful below—if I can + establish no closer connection there than here between this cutter and the + weapon which killed Miss Challoner, I shall have no cause to mention the + matter. It will be too extraneous to the case. Do you remember the exact + spot where you stooped, Miss Watkins?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn’t have to step out of my + way; I really didn’t.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce’s answering smile was a study. It seemed to convey a two-fold + message, one for the mother and one for the child, and both were + comforting. But he went away, disappointed. The clew which promised so + much was, to all appearance, a false one. + </p> + <p> + He could soon tell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. INTEGRITY + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Gryce’s fears were only too well founded. Though Mr. McElroy was kind + enough to point out the exact spot where he saw Miss Watkins stoop, no + trace of blood was found upon the rug which had lain there, nor had + anything of the kind been washed up by the very careful man who scrubbed + the lobby floor in the early morning. This was disappointing, as its + presence would have settled the whole question. When, these efforts all + exhausted, the two detectives faced each other again in the small room + given up to their use, Mr. Gryce showed his discouragement. To be certain + of a fact you cannot prove has not the same alluring quality for the old + that it has for the young. Sweetwater watched him in some concern, then + with the persistence which was one of his strong points, ventured finally + to remark: + </p> + <p> + “I have but one idea left on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that?” Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The girl wore a red cloak. If I mistake not, the lining was also red. A + spot on it might not show to the casual observer. Yet it would mean much + to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweetwater!” + </p> + <p> + A faint blush rose to the old man’s cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it was with a + downcast air. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing doing,” said he. + </p> + <p> + And then there was silence. + </p> + <p> + “We only need to find out now that this cutter was not even Miss + Challoner’s property,” remarked Mr. Gryce, at last, with a gesture towards + the object named, lying openly on the table before him. + </p> + <p> + “That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it to her + maid?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + But here they were themselves disturbed. A knock at the door was followed + by the immediate entrance of the very person just mentioned. Mr. Challoner + had come in search of the inspector, and showed some surprise to find his + place occupied by an unknown old man. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Gryce, who discerned tidings in the bereaved father’s face, was + all alacrity in an instant. Greeting his visitor with a smile which few + could see without trusting the man, he explained the inspector’s absence + and introduced himself in his own capacity. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem inclined to + speak. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce motioned Sweetwater from the room. With a woeful look the young + detective withdrew, his last glance cast at the cutter still lying in full + view on the table. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then laid it + down again, with an air of seeming abstraction. + </p> + <p> + The father’s attention was caught. + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” he cried, advancing a step and bestowing more than an + ordinary glance at the object thus brought casually, as it were, to his + notice. “I surely recognise this cutter. Does it belong here or—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce, observing the other’s emotion, motioned him to a chair. As his + visitor sank into it, he remarked, with all the consideration exacted by + the situation: + </p> + <p> + “It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to think + it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen it, or one like it, often in her hand.” Here his eyes + suddenly dilated and the hand stretched forth to grasp it quickly drew + back. “Where—where was it found?” he hoarsely demanded. “O God! am I + to be crushed to the very earth by sorrow!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with the + truth. + </p> + <p> + “It was picked up—last night—from the lobby floor. There is + seemingly nothing to connect it with her death. Yet—” + </p> + <p> + The pause was eloquent. Mr. Challoner gave the detective an agonised look + and turned white to the lips. Then gradually, as the silence continued, + his head fell forward, and he muttered almost unintelligibly: + </p> + <p> + “I honestly believe her the victim of some heartless stranger. I do now; + but—but I cannot mislead the police. At any cost I must retract a + statement I made under false impressions and with no desire to deceive. I + said that I knew all of the gentlemen who admired her and aspired to her + hand, and that they were all reputable men and above committing a crime of + this or any other kind. But it seems that I did not know her secret heart + as thoroughly as I had supposed. Among her effects I have just come upon a + batch of letters—love letters I am forced to acknowledge—signed + by initials totally strange to me. The letters are manly in tone—most + of them—but one—” + </p> + <p> + “What about the one?” + </p> + <p> + “Shows that the writer was displeased. It may mean nothing, but I could + not let the matter go without setting myself right with the authorities. + If it might be allowed to rest here—if those letters can remain + sacred, it would save me the additional pang of seeing her inmost concerns—the + secret and holiest recesses of a woman’s heart, laid open to the public. + For, from the tenor of most of these letters, she—she was not averse + to the writer.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce moved a little restlessly in his chair and stared hard at the + cutter so conveniently placed under his eye. Then his manner softened and + he remarked: + </p> + <p> + “We will do what we can. But you must understand that the matter is not a + simple one. That, in fact, it contains mysteries which demand police + investigation. We do not dare to trifle with any of the facts. The + inspector, and, if not he, the coroner, will have to be told about these + letters and will probably ask to see them.” + </p> + <p> + “They are the letters of a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “With the one exception.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is understood.” Then in a sudden heat and with an almost + sublime trust in his daughter notwithstanding the duplicity he had just + discovered: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—not the story told by these letters, or the sight of that + sturdy paper-cutter with its long and very slender blade, will make me + believe that she willingly took her own life. You do not know, cannot + know, the rare delicacy of her nature. She was a lady through and through. + If she had meditated death—if the breach suggested by the one letter + I have mentioned, should have so preyed upon her spirits as to lead her to + break her old father’s heart and outrage the feelings of all who knew her, + she could not, being the woman she was, choose a public place for such an + act—an hotel writing-room—in face of a lobby full of hurrying + men. It was out of nature. Every one who knows her will tell you so. The + deed was an accident—incredible—but still an accident.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce had respect for this outburst. Making no attempt to answer it, + he suggested, with some hesitation, that Miss Challoner had been seen + writing a letter previous to taking those fatal steps from the desk which + ended so tragically. Was this letter to one of her lady friends, as + reported, and was it as far from suggesting the awful tragedy which + followed, as he had been told? + </p> + <p> + “It was a cheerful letter. Such a one as she often wrote to her little + protegees here and there. I judge that this was written to some girl like + that, for the person addressed was not known to her maid, any more than + she was to me. It expressed an affectionate interest, and it breathed + encouragement—encouragement! and she meditating her own death at the + moment! Impossible! That letter should exonerate her if nothing else + does.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce recalled the incongruities, the inconsistencies and even the + surprising contradictions which had often marked the conduct of men and + women, in his lengthy experience with the strange, the sudden, and the + tragic things of life, and slightly shook his head. He pitied Mr. + Challoner, and admired even more his courage in face of the appalling + grief which had overwhelmed him, but he dared not encourage a false hope. + The girl had killed herself and with this weapon. They might not be able + to prove it absolutely, but it was nevertheless true, and this broken old + man would some day be obliged to acknowledge it. But the detective said + nothing of this, and was very patient with the further arguments the other + advanced to prove his point and the lofty character of the girl to whom, + misled by appearance, the police seemed inclined to attribute the awful + sin of self-destruction. + </p> + <p> + But when, this topic exhausted, Mr. Challoner rose to leave the room, Mr. + Gryce showed where his own thoughts still centred, by asking him the date + of the correspondence discovered between his daughter and her unknown + admirer. + </p> + <p> + “Some of the letters were dated last summer, some this fall. The one you + are most anxious to hear about only a month back,” he added, with + unconquerable devotion to what he considered his duty. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce would like to have carried his inquiries further, but desisted. + His heart was full of compassion for this childless old man, doomed to + have his choicest memories disturbed by cruel doubts which possibly would + never be removed to his own complete satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + But when he was gone, and Sweetwater had returned, Mr. Gryce made it his + first duty to communicate to his superiors the hitherto unsuspected fact + of a secret romance in Miss Challoner’s seemingly calm and well-guarded + life. She had loved and been loved by one of whom her family knew nothing. + And the two had quarrelled, as certain letters lately found could be made + to show. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. THE LETTERS + </h2> + <p> + Before a table strewn with papers, in the room we have already mentioned + as given over to the use of the police, sat Dr. Heath in a mood too + thoughtful to notice the entrance of Mr. Gryce and Sweetwater from the + dining-room where they had been having dinner. + </p> + <p> + However as the former’s tread was somewhat lumbering, the coroner’s + attention was caught before they had quite crossed the room, and + Sweetwater, with his quick eye, noted how his arm and hand immediately + fell so as to cover up a portion of the papers lying nearest to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gryce, this is a dark case,” he observed, as at his bidding the two + detectives took their seats. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce nodded; so did Sweetwater. + </p> + <p> + “The darkest that has ever come to my knowledge,” pursued the coroner. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce again nodded; but not so, Sweetwater. For some reason this + simple expression of opinion seemed to have given him a mental start. + </p> + <p> + “She was not shot. She was not struck by any other hand; yet she lies dead + from a mortal wound in the breast. Though there is no tangible proof of + her having inflicted this wound upon herself, the jury will have no + alternative, I fear, than to pronounce the case one of suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m sorry that I’ve been able to do so little,” remarked Mr. Gryce. + </p> + <p> + The coroner darted him a quick look. + </p> + <p> + “You are not satisfied? You have some different idea?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The detective frowned at his hands crossed over the top of his cane, then + shaking his head, replied: + </p> + <p> + “The verdict you mention is the only natural one, of course. I see that + you have been talking with Miss Challoner’s former maid?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and she has settled an important point for us. There was a + possibility, of course, that the paper-cutter which you brought to my + notice had never gone with her into the mezzanine. That she, or some other + person, had dropped it in passing through the lobby. But this girl assures + me that her mistress did not enter the lobby that night. That she + accompanied her down in the elevator, and saw her step off at the + mezzanine. She can also swear that the cutter was in a book she carried—the + book we found lying on the desk. The girl remembers distinctly seeing its + peculiarly chased handle projecting from its pages. Could anything be more + satisfactory if—I was going to say, if the young lady had been of + the impulsive type and the provocation greater. But Miss Challoner’s + nature was calm, and were it not for these letters—” here his arm + shifted a little—“I should not be so sure of my jury’s future + verdict. Love—” he went on, after a moment of silent consideration + of a letter he had chosen from those before him, “disturbs the most + equable natures. When it enters as a factor, we can expect anything—as + you know. And Miss Challoner evidently was much attached to her + correspondent, and naturally felt the reproach conveyed in these lines.” + </p> + <p> + And Dr. Heath read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear Miss Challoner: + + “Only a man of small spirit could endure what I endured from you + the other day. Love such as mine would be respectable in a + clod-hopper, and I think that even you will acknowledge that I + stand somewhat higher than that. Though I was silent under your + disapprobation, you shall yet have your answer. It will not lack + point because of its necessary delay.” + </pre> + <p> + “A threat!” + </p> + <p> + The words sprang from Sweetwater, and were evidently involuntary. Dr. + Heath paid no notice, but Mr. Gryce, in shifting his hands on his cane + top, gave them a sidelong look which was not without a hint of fresh + interest in a case concerning which he had believed himself to have said + his last word. + </p> + <p> + “It is the only letter of them all which conveys anything like a + reproach,” proceeded the coroner. “The rest are ardent enough and, I must + acknowledge that, so far as I have allowed myself to look into them, + sufficiently respectful. Her surprise must consequently have been great at + receiving these lines, and her resentment equally so. If the two met + afterwards—But I have not shown you the signature. To the poor + father it conveyed nothing—some facts have been kept from him—but + to us—” here he whirled the letter about so that Sweetwater, at + least, could see the name, “it conveys a hope that we may yet understand + Miss Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Brotherson!” exclaimed the young detective in loud surprise. “Brotherson! + The man who—” + </p> + <p> + “The man who left this building just before or simultaneously with the + alarm caused by Miss Challoner’s fall. It clears away some of the clouds + befogging us. She probably caught sight of him in the lobby, and in the + passion of the moment forgot her usual instincts and drove the + sharp-pointed weapon into her heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Brotherson!” The word came softly now, and with a thoughtful intonation. + “He saw her die.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Would he have washed his hands in the snow if he had been in ignorance of + the occurrence? He was the real, if not active, cause of her death and he + knew it. Either he—Excuse me, Dr. Heath and Mr. Gryce, it is not for + me to obtrude my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you settled it beyond dispute that Brotherson is really the man who + was seen doing this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I have not had a minute for that job, but I’m ready for the + business any time you see fit to spare me.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it be to-morrow, or, if you can manage it, to-night. We want the man + even if he is not the hero of that romantic episode. He wrote these + letters, and he must explain the last one. His initials, as you see, are + not ordinary ones, and you will find them at the bottom of all these + sheets. He was brave enough or arrogant enough to sign the questionable + one with his full name. This may speak well for him, and it may not. It is + for you to decide that. Where will you look for him, Sweetwater? No one + here knows his address.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Miss Challoner’s maid?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the name is a new one to her. But she made it very evident that she + was not surprised to hear that her mistress was in secret correspondence + with a member of the male sex. Much can be hidden from servants, but not + that.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll find the man; I have a double reason for doing that now; he shall + not escape me.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction, and gave some orders. Meanwhile, Mr. + Gryce had not uttered a word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + </h2> + <p> + That evening George sat so long over the newspapers that in spite of my + absorbing interest in the topic engrossing me, I fell asleep in my cozy + little rocking chair. I was awakened by what seemed like a kiss falling + very softly on my forehead, though, to be sure, it may have been only the + flap of George’s coat sleeve as he stooped over me. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up, little woman,” I heard, “and trot away to bed. I’m going out and + may not be in till daybreak.” + </p> + <p> + “You! going out! at ten o’clock at night, tired as you are—as we + both are! What has happened—Oh!” + </p> + <p> + This broken exclamation escaped me as I perceived in the dim background by + the sitting-room door, the figure of a man who called up recent, but very + thrilling experiences. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sweetwater,” explained George. “We are going out together. It is + necessary, or you may be sure I should not leave you.” + </p> + <p> + I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. “Oh, I know. You are + going to hunt up the man. How I wish—” + </p> + <p> + But George did not wait for me to express my wishes. He gave me a little + good advice as to how I had better employ my time in his absence, and was + off before I could find words to answer. + </p> + <p> + This ends all I have to say about myself; but the events of that night + carefully related to me by George are important enough for me to describe + them, with all the detail which is their rightful due. I shall tell the + story as I have already been led to do in other portions of this + narrative, as though I were present and shared the adventure. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towards George + and said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Anderson, I have a great deal to ask of you. The business before us + is not a simple one, and I fear that I shall have to subject you to more + inconvenience than is customary in matters like this. Mr. Brotherson has + vanished; that is, in his own proper person, but I have an idea that I am + on the track of one who will lead us very directly to him if we manage the + affair carefully. What I want of you, of course, is mere identification. + You saw the face of the man who washed his hands in the snow, and would + know it again, you say. Do you think you could be quite sure of yourself, + if the man were differently dressed and differently occupied?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. There’s his height and a certain strong look in his face. I + cannot describe it.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t need to. Come! we’re all right. You don’t mind making a night + of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if it is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “That we can’t tell yet.” And with a characteristic shrug and smile, the + detective led the way to a taxicab which stood in waiting at the corner. + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour of rather fast riding brought them into a tangle of + streets on the East side. As George noticed the swarming sidewalks and + listened to the noises incident to an over-populated quarter, he could not + forbear, despite the injunction he had received, to express his surprise + at the direction of their search. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said he, “the gentleman I have described can have no friends + here.” Then, bethinking himself, he added: “But if he has reasons to fear + the law, naturally he would seek to lose himself in a place as different + as possible from his usual haunts.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that would be some men’s way,” was the curt, almost indifferent, + answer he received. Sweetwater was looking this way and that from the + window beside him, and now, leaning out gave some directions to the driver + which altered their course. + </p> + <p> + When they stopped, which was in a few minutes, he said to George: + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to walk now for a block or two. I’m anxious to attract no + attention, nor is it desirable for you to do so. If you can manage to act + as if you were accustomed to the place and just leave all the talking to + me, we ought to get along first-rate. Don’t be astonished at anything you + see, and trust me for the rest; that’s all.” + </p> + <p> + They alighted, and he dismissed the taxicab. Some clock in the + neighbourhood struck the hour of ten. “Good! we shall be in time,” + muttered the detective, and led the way down the street and round a corner + or so, till they came to a block darker than the rest, and much less + noisy. + </p> + <p> + It had a sinister look, and George, who is brave enough under all ordinary + circumstances, was glad that his companion wore a badge and carried a + whistle. He was also relieved when he caught sight of the burly form of a + policeman in the shadow of one of the doorways. Yet the houses he saw + before him were not so very different from those they had already passed. + His uneasiness could not have sprung from them. They had even an air of + positive respectability, as though inhabited by industrious workmen. Then, + what was it which made the close companionship of a member of the police + so uncommonly welcome? Was it a certain aspect of solitariness which clung + to the block, or was it the sudden appearance here and there of strangely + gliding figures, which no sooner loomed up against the snowy perspective, + than they disappeared again in some unseen doorway? + </p> + <p> + “There’s a meeting on to-night, of the Associated Brotherhood of the Awl, + the Plane and the Trowel (whatever that means), and it is the speaker we + want to see; the man who is to address them promptly at ten o’clock. Do + you object to meetings?” + </p> + <p> + “Is this a secret one?” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t advertised.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a carpenter. Don’t you think you can be a mason for the occasion?” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt it, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I must speak to this man.” + </p> + <p> + George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and a shadowy + figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + “Balked at the outset,” were the encouraging words with which the + detective rejoined George. “It seems that a pass-word is necessary, and my + friend has been unable to get it. Will the speaker pass out this way?” he + inquired of the shadowy figure still lingering in their rear. + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t go in by it; yet I believe he’s safe enough inside,” was the + muttered answer. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater had no relish for disappointments of this character, but it was + not long before he straightened up and allowed himself to exchange a few + more words with this mysterious person. These appeared to be of a more + encouraging nature than the last, for it was not long before the detective + returned with renewed alacrity to George, and, wheeling him about, began + to retrace his steps to the corner. + </p> + <p> + “Are we going back? Are you going to give up the job?” George asked. + </p> + <p> + “No; we’re going to take him from the rear. There’s a break in the fence—Oh, + we’ll do very well. Trust me.” + </p> + <p> + George laughed. He was growing excited, but not altogether agreeably so. + He says that he has seen moments of more pleasant anticipation. Evidently, + my good husband is not cut out for detective work. + </p> + <p> + Where they went under this officer’s guidance, he cannot tell. The + tortuous tangle of alleys through which he now felt himself led was dark + as the nether regions to his unaccustomed eyes. There was snow under his + feet and now and then he brushed against some obtruding object, or + stumbled against a low fence; but beyond these slight miscalculations on + his own part, he was a mere automaton in the hands of his eager guide, and + only became his own man again when they suddenly stepped into an open yard + and he could discern plainly before him the dark walls of a building + pointed out by Sweetwater as their probable destination. Yet even here + they encountered some impediment which prohibited a close approach. A wall + or shed cut off their view of the building’s lower storey; and though + somewhat startled at being left unceremoniously alone after just a + whispered word of encouragement from the ever ready detective, George + could quite understand the necessity which that person must feel for a + quiet reconnoitering of the surroundings before the two of them ventured + further forward in their possibly hazardous undertaking. Yet the + experience was none too pleasing to George, and he was very glad to hear + Sweetwater’s whisper again at his ear, and to feel himself rescued from + the pool of slush in which he had been left to stand. + </p> + <p> + “The approach is not all that can be desired,” remarked the detective as + they entered what appeared to be a low shed. “The broken board has been + put back and securely nailed in place, and if I am not very much mistaken + there is a fellow stationed in the yard who will want the pass-word too. + Looks shady to me. I’ll have something to tell the chief when I get back.” + </p> + <p> + “But we! What are we going to do if we cannot get in front or rear?” + </p> + <p> + “We’re going to wait right here in the hopes of catching a glimpse of our + man as he comes out,” returned the detective, drawing George towards a low + window overlooking the yard he had described as sentinelled. “He will have + to pass directly under this window on his way to the alley,” Sweetwater + went on to explain, “and if I can only raise it—but the noise would + give us away. I can’t do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps it swings on hinges,” suggested George. “It looks like that sort + of a window.” + </p> + <p> + “If it should—well! it does. We’re in great luck, sir. But before I + pull it open, remember that from the moment I unlatch it, everything said + or done here can be heard in the adjoining yard. So no whispers and no + unnecessary movements. When you hear him coming, as sooner or later you + certainly will, fall carefully to your knees and lean out just far enough + to catch a glimpse of him before he steps down from the porch. If he stops + to light his cigar or to pass a few words with some of the men he will + leave behind, you may get a plain enough view of his face or figure to + identify him. The light is burning low in that rear hall, but it will do. + If it does not,—if you can’t see him or if you do, don’t hang out of + the window more than a second. Duck after your first look. I don’t want to + be caught at this job with no better opportunity for escape than we have + here. Can you remember all that?” + </p> + <p> + George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an amused + grunt, softly unlatched the window and pulled it wide open. + </p> + <p> + A fine sleet flew in, imperceptible save for the sensation of damp it + gave, and the slight haze it diffused through the air. Enlarged by this + haze, the building they were set to watch rose in magnified proportions at + their left. The yard between, piled high in the centre with snow-heaps or + other heaps covered with snow, could not have been more than forty feet + square. The window from which they peered, was half-way down this yard, so + that a comparatively short distance separated them from the porch where + George had been told to look for the man he was expected to identify. All + was dark there at present, but he could hear from time to time some sounds + of restless movement, as the guard posted inside shifted in his narrow + quarters, or struck his benumbed feet softly together. + </p> + <p> + But what came to them from above was more interesting than anything to be + heard or seen below. A man’s voice, raised to a wonderful pitch by the + passion of oratory, had burst the barriers of the closed hall in that + towering third storey and was carrying its tale to other ears than those + within. Had it been summer and the windows open, both George and + Sweetwater might have heard every word; for the tones were exceptionally + rich and penetrating, and the speaker intent only on the impression he was + endeavouring to make upon his audience. That he had not mistaken his power + in this direction was evinced by the applause which rose from time to time + from innumerable hands and feet. But this uproar would be speedily + silenced, and the mellow voice ring out again, clear and commanding. What + could the subject be to rouse such enthusiasm in the Associated + Brotherhood of the Awl, the Plane and the Trowel? There was a moment when + our listening friends expected to be enlightened. A shutter was thrown + back in one of those upper windows, and the window hurriedly raised, + during which words took the place of sounds and they heard enough to whet + their appetite for more. But only that. The shutter was speedily restored + to place, and the window again closed. A wise precaution, or so thought + George if they wished to keep their doubtful proceedings secret. + </p> + <p> + A tirade against the rich and a loud call to battle could be gleaned from + the few sentences they had heard. But its virulence and pointed attack was + not that of the second-rate demagogue or business agent, but of a man + whose intellect and culture rang in every tone, and informed each + sentence. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of impatience + and regret, pushed the window to before asking George this question: + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, your attention + outside the Clermont?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over the + speaker’s head?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I could judge nothing from that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he’s a rum one. I shan’t open this window again till he gives signs + of reaching the end of his speech. It’s too cold.” + </p> + <p> + But almost immediately he gave a start and, pressing George’s arm, + appeared to listen, not to the speech which was no longer audible, but to + something much nearer—a step or movement in the adjoining yard. At + least, so George interpreted the quick turn which this impetuous detective + made, and the pains he took to direct George’s attention to the walk + running under the window beneath which they crouched. Someone was stealing + down upon the house at their left, from the alley beyond. A big man, whose + shoulder brushed the window as he went by. George felt his hand seized + again and pressed as this happened, and before he had recovered from this + excitement, experienced another quick pressure and still another as one, + two, three additional figures went slipping by. Then his hand was suddenly + dropped, for a cry had shot up from the door where the sentinel stood + guard, followed by a sudden loud slam, and the noise of a shooting bolt, + which, proclaiming as it did that the invaders were not friends but + enemies to the cause which was being vaunted above, so excited Sweetwater + that he pulled the window wide open and took a bold look out. George + followed his example and this was what they saw: + </p> + <p> + Three men were standing flat against the fence leading from the shed + directly to the porch. The fourth was crouching within the latter, and in + another moment they heard his fist descend upon the door inside in a way + to rouse the echoes. Meantime, the voice in the audience hall above had + ceased, and there could be heard instead the scramble of hurrying feet and + the noise of overturning benches. Then a window flew up and a voice called + down: + </p> + <p> + “Who’s that? What do you want down there?” + </p> + <p> + But before an answer could be shouted back, this man was drawn fiercely + inside, and the scramble was renewed, amid which George heard Sweetwater’s + whisper at his ear: + </p> + <p> + “It’s the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man we’re + after—the one who shouted down?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Neither was he the speaker. The voices are very different.” + </p> + <p> + “We want the speaker. If the boys get him, we’re all right; but if they + don’t—wait, I must make the matter sure.” + </p> + <p> + And with a bound he vaulted through the window, whistling in a peculiar + way. George, thus left quite alone, had the pleasure of seeing his sole + protector mix with the boys, as he called them, and ultimately crowd in + with them through the door which had finally been opened for their + admittance. Then came a wait, and then the quiet re-appearance of the + detective alone and in no very, amiable mood. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. “Do you want me? They + don’t seem to be coming out.” + </p> + <p> + “No; they’ve gone the other way. It was a red hot anarchist meeting, and + no mistake. They have arrested one of the speakers, but the other escaped. + How, we have not yet found out; but I think there’s a way out somewhere by + which he got the start of us. He was the man I wanted you to see. Bad + luck, Mr. Anderson, but I’m not at the end of my resources. If you’ll have + patience with me and accompany me a little further, I promise you that + I’ll only risk one more failure. Will you be so good, sir?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + </h2> + <p> + The fellow had a way with him, hard to resist. Cold as George was and + exhausted by an excitement of a kind to which he was wholly unaccustomed, + he found himself acceding to the detective’s request; and after a quick + lunch and a huge cup of coffee in a restaurant which I wish I had time to + describe, the two took a car which eventually brought them into one of the + oldest quarters of the Borough of Brooklyn. The sleet which had stung + their faces in the streets of New York had been left behind them somewhere + on the bridge, but the chill was not gone from the air, and George felt + greatly relieved when Sweetwater paused in the middle of a long block + before a lofty tenement house of mean appearance, and signified that here + they were to stop, and that from now on, mum was to be their watchword. + </p> + <p> + George was relieved I say, but he was also more astonished than ever. What + kind of haunts were these for the cultured gentleman who spent his + evenings at the Clermont? It was easy enough in these days of extravagant + sympathies, to understand such a man addressing the uneasy spirits of + lower New York—he had been called an enthusiast, and an enthusiast + is very often a social agitator—but to trace him afterwards to a + place like this was certainly a surprise. A tenement—such a tenement + as this—meant home—home for himself or for those he counted + his friends, and such a supposition seemed inconceivable to my poor + husband, with the memory of the gorgeous parlour of the Clermont in his + mind. Indeed, he hinted something of the kind to his affable but strangely + reticent companion, but all the answer he got was a peculiar smile whose + humorous twist he could barely discern in the semi-darkness of the open + doorway into which they had just plunged. + </p> + <p> + “An adventure! certainly an adventure!” flashed through poor George’s + mind, as he peered, in great curiosity down the long hall before him, into + a dismal rear, opening into a still more dismal court. It was truly a + novel experience for a business man whose philanthropy was carried on + entirely by proxy—that is, by his wife. Should he be expected to + penetrate into those dark, ill-smelling recesses, or would he be led up + the long flights of naked stairs, so feebly illuminated that they gave the + impression of extending indefinitely into dimmer and dimmer heights of + decay and desolation? + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater seemed to decide for the rear, for leaving George, he stepped + down the hall into the court beyond, where George could see him casting + inquiring glances up at the walls above him. Another tenement, similar to + the one whose rear end he was contemplating, towered behind but he paid no + attention to that. He was satisfied with the look he had given and came + quickly back, joining George at the foot of the staircase, up which he + silently led the way. + </p> + <p> + It was a rude, none-too-well-cared-for building, but it seemed respectable + enough and very quiet, considering the mass of people it accommodated. + There were marks of poverty everywhere, but no squalor. One flight—two + flights—three—and then George’s guide stopped, and, looking + back at him, made a gesture. It appeared to be one of caution, but when + the two came together at the top of the staircase, Sweetwater spoke quite + naturally as he pointed out a door in their rear: + </p> + <p> + “That’s the room. We’ll keep a sharp watch and when any man, no matter + what his dress or appearance comes up these stairs and turns that way, + give him a sharp look. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but-” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he hasn’t come in yet. I took pains to find that out. You saw me go + into the court and look up. That was to see if his window was lighted. + Well, it wasn’t.” + </p> + <p> + George felt non-plussed. + </p> + <p> + “But surely,” said he, “the gentleman named Brotherson doesn’t live here.” + </p> + <p> + “The inventor does.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “And—but I will explain later.” + </p> + <p> + The suppressed excitement contained in these words made George stare. + Indeed, he had been wondering for some time at the manner of the detective + which showed a curious mixture of several opposing emotions. Now, the + fellow was actually in a tremble of hope or impatience;—and, not + content with listening, he peered every few minutes down the well of the + staircase, and when he was not doing that, tramped from end to end of the + narrow passage-way separating the head of the stairs from the door he had + pointed out, like one to whom minutes were hours. All this time he seemed + to forget George who certainly had as much reason as himself for finding + the time long. But when, after some half hour of this tedium and suspense, + there rose from below the faint clatter of ascending footsteps, he + remembered his meek companion and beckoning him to one side, began a + studied conversation with him, showing him a note-book in which he had + written such phrases as these: + </p> + <p> + Don’t look up till he is fairly in range with the light. + </p> + <p> + There’s nothing to fear; he doesn’t know either of us. + </p> + <p> + If it is a face you have seen before;—if it is the one we are + expecting to see, pull your necktie straight. It’s a little on one side. + </p> + <p> + These rather startling injunctions were read by George, with no very + perceptible diminution of the uneasiness which it was only natural for him + to feel at the oddity of his position. But only the demand last made + produced any impression on him. The man they were waiting for was no + further up than the second floor, but instinctively George’s hand had + flown to his necktie, and he was only stopped from its premature + re-arrangement by a warning look from Sweetwater. + </p> + <p> + “Not unless you know him,” whispered the detective; and immediately + launched out into an easy talk about some totally different business which + George neither understood, nor was expected to, I dare say. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the steps below paused, and George heard Sweetwater draw in his + breath in irrepressible dismay. But they were immediately resumed, and + presently the head and shoulders of a workingman of uncommon proportions + appeared in sight on the stairway. + </p> + <p> + George cast him a keen look, and his hand rose doubtfully to his neck and + then fell back again. The approaching man was tall, very well-proportioned + and easy of carriage; but the face—such of it as could be seen + between his cap and the high collar he had pulled up about his ears, + conveyed no exact impression to George’s mind, and he did not dare to give + the signal Sweetwater expected from him. Yet as the man went by with a + dark and sidelong glance at them both, he felt his hand rise again, though + he did not complete the action, much to his own disgust and to the evident + disappointment of the watchful detective. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not sure?” he now heard, oddly interpolated in the stream of + half-whispered talk with which the other endeavoured to carry off the + situation. + </p> + <p> + George shook his head. He could not rid himself of the old impression he + had formed of the man in the snow. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dunn, a word with you,” suddenly spoke up Sweetwater, to the man who + had just passed them. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is my name,” was the quiet response, in a voice which was at + once rich and resonant; a voice which George knew—the voice of the + impassioned speaker he had heard resounding through the sleet as he + cowered within hearing in the shed behind the Avenue A tenement. “Who are + you who wish to speak to me at so late an hour?” + </p> + <p> + He was returning to them from the door he had unlocked and left slightly + ajar. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we are—You know what,” smiled the ready detective, advancing + half-way to greet him. “We’re not members of the Associated Brotherhood, + but possibly have hopes of being so. At all events, we should like to talk + the matter over, if, as you say, it’s not too late.” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to do with the club—” + </p> + <p> + “But you spoke before it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can give us some sort of an idea how we are to apply for + membership.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dunn met the concentrated gaze of his two evidently unwelcome visitors + with a frankness which dashed George’s confidence in himself, but made + little visible impression upon his daring companion. + </p> + <p> + “I should rather see you at another time,” said he. “But—” his + hesitation was inappreciable save to the nicest ear—“if you will + allow me to be brief, I will tell you what I know—which is very + little.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater was greatly taken aback. All he had looked for, as he was + careful to tell my husband later, was a sufficiently prolonged + conversation to enable George to mark and study the workings of the face + he was not yet sure of. Nor did the detective feel quite easy at the + readiness of his reception; nor any too well pleased to accept the + invitation which this man now gave them to enter his room. + </p> + <p> + But he suffered no betrayal of his misgivings to escape him, though he was + careful to intimate to George, as they waited in the doorway for the other + to light up, that he should not be displeased at his refusal to accompany + him further in this adventure, and even advised him to remain in the hall + till he received his summons to enter. + </p> + <p> + But George had not come as far as this to back out now, and as soon as he + saw Sweetwater advance into the now well-lighted interior, he advanced too + and began to look around him. + </p> + <p> + The room, like many others in these old-fashioned tenements, had a jog + just where the door was, so that on entering they had to take several + steps before they could get a full glimpse of its four walls. When they + did, both showed surprise. Comfort, if not elegance, confronted them, + which impression, however, was immediately lost in the evidences of work, + manual, as well as intellectual, which were everywhere scattered about. + </p> + <p> + The man who lived here was not only a student, as was evinced by a long + wall full of books, but he was an art-lover, a musician, an inventor and + an athlete. + </p> + <p> + So much could be learned from the most cursory glance. A more careful one + picked up other facts fully as startling and impressive. The books were + choice; the invention to all appearance a practical one; the art of a high + order and the music, such as was in view, of a character of which the + nicest taste need not be ashamed. George began to feel quite conscious of + the intrusion of which they had been guilty, and was amazed at the ease + with which the detective carried himself in the presence of such + manifestations of culture and good, hard work. He was trying to recall the + exact appearance of the figure he had seen stooping in the snowy street + two nights before, when he found himself staring at the occupant of the + room, who had taken up his stand before them and was regarding them while + they were regarding the room. + </p> + <p> + He had thrown aside his hat and rid himself of his overcoat, and the + fearlessness of his aspect seemed to daunt the hitherto dauntless + Sweetwater, who, for the first time in his life, perhaps, hunted in vain + for words with which to start conversation. + </p> + <p> + Had he made an awful mistake? Was this Mr. Dunn what he seemed an unknown + and careful genius, battling with great odds in his honest struggle to + give the world something of value in return for what it had given him? The + quick, almost deprecatory glance he darted at George betrayed his dismay; + a dismay which George had begun to share, notwithstanding his growing + belief that the man’s face was not wholly unknown to him even if he could + not recognise it as the one he had seen outside the Clermont. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have forgotten your errand,” came in quiet, if not + good-natured, sarcasm from their patiently waiting host. + </p> + <p> + “It’s the room,” muttered Sweetwater, with an attempt at his old-time ease + which was not as fully successful as usual. “What an all-fired genius you + must be. I never saw the like. And in a tenement house too! You ought to + be in one of those big new studio buildings in New York where artists be + and everything you see is beautiful. You’d appreciate it, you would.” + </p> + <p> + The detective started, George started, at the gleam which answered him + from a very uncommon eye. It was a temporary flash, however, and quickly + veiled, and the tone in which this Dunn now spoke was anything but an + encouraging one. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were desirous of joining a socialistic fraternity,” said + he; “a true aspirant for such honours don’t care for beautiful things + unless all can have them. I prefer my tenement. How is it with you, + friends?” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater found some sort of a reply, though the thing which this man now + did must have startled him, as it certainly did George. They were so + grouped that a table quite full of anomalous objects stood at the back of + their host, and consequently quite beyond their own reach. As Sweetwater + began to speak, he whom he had addressed by the name of Dunn, drew a + pistol from his breast pocket and laid it down barrel towards them on this + table top. Then he looked up courteously enough, and listened till + Sweetwater was done. A very handsome man, but one not to be trifled with + in the slightest degree. Both recognised this fact, and George, for one, + began to edge towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now I feel easier,” remarked the giant, swelling out his chest. He was + unusually tall, as well as unusually muscular. “I never like to carry + arms; but sometimes it is unavoidable. Damn it, what hands!” He was + looking at his own, which certainly showed soil. “Will you pardon me?” he + pleasantly apologised, stepping towards a washstand and plunging his hands + into the basin. “I cannot think with dirt on me like that. Humph, hey! did + you speak?” + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly on George who had certainly uttered an ejaculation, but + receiving no reply, went on with his task, completing it with a care and a + disregard of their presence which showed him up in still another light. + </p> + <p> + But even his hardihood showed shock, when, upon turning round with a + brisk, “Now I’m ready to talk,” he encountered again the clear eye of + Sweetwater. For, in the person of this none too welcome intruder, he saw a + very different man from the one upon whom he had just turned his back with + so little ceremony; and there appeared to be no good reason for the + change. He had not noted in his preoccupation, how George, at sight of his + stooping figure, had made a sudden significant movement, and if he had, + the pulling of a necktie straight, would have meant nothing to him. But to + Sweetwater it meant every thing, and it was in the tone of one fully at + ease with himself that he now dryly remarked: “Mr. Brotherson, if you feel + quite clean; and if you have sufficiently warmed yourself, I would suggest + that we start out at once, unless you prefer to have me share this room + with you till the morning.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence. Mr. Dunn thus addressed attempted no answer; not for a + full minute. The two men were measuring each other—George felt that + he did not count at all—and they were quite too much occupied with + this task to heed the passage of time. To George, who knew little, if + anything, of what this silent struggle meant to either, it seemed that the + detective stood no show before this Samson of physical strength and + intellectual power, backed by a pistol just within reach of his hand. But + as George continued to look and saw the figure of the smaller man + gradually dilate, while that of the larger, the more potent and the better + guarded, gave unmistakable signs of secret wavering, he slowly changed his + mind and, ranging himself with the detective, waited for the word or words + which should explain this situation and render intelligible the triumph + gradually becoming visible in the young detective’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He might + witness and hear, but it was long before he understood. + </p> + <p> + “Brotherson?” repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to the + breaking-point. “Why do you call me that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is your name.” + </p> + <p> + “You called me Dunn a minute ago.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true.” + </p> + <p> + “Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you spoke under the name of Dunn at the meeting to-night, and if + I don’t mistake, that is the name by which you are known here.” + </p> + <p> + “And you? By what name are you known?” + </p> + <p> + “It is late to ask, isn’t it? But I’m willing to speak it now, and I might + not have been so a little earlier in our conversation. I am Detective + Sweetwater of the New York Department of Police, and my errand here is a + very simple one. Some letters signed by you have been found among the + papers of the lady whose mysterious death at the hotel Clermont is just + now occupying the attention of the New York authorities. If you have any + information to give which will in any way explain that death, your + presence will be welcome at Coroner Heath’s office in New York. If you + have not, your presence will still be welcome. At all events, I was told + to bring you. You will be on hand to accompany me in the morning, I am + quite sure, pardoning the unconventional means I have taken to make sure + of my man?” + </p> + <p> + The humour with which this was said seemed to rob it of anything like + attack, and Mr. Brotherson, as we shall hereafter call him, smiled with an + odd acceptance of the same, as he responded: + </p> + <p> + “I will go before the police certainly. I haven’t much to tell, but what I + have is at their service. It will not help you, but I have no secrets. + What are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, + lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to see if it was still snowing,” explained the detective, with a + smile, which seemed to strike the other like a blow. “If it was a liberty, + please pardon it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brotherson drew back. The cold air of self-possession which he now + assumed, presented such a contrast to the unwarranted heat of the moment + before that George wondered greatly over it, and later, when he + recapitulated to me the whole story of this night, it was this incident of + the lifted shade, together with the emotion it had caused, which he + acknowledged as being for him the most inexplicable event of the evening + and the one he was most anxious to hear explained. + </p> + <p> + As this ends our connection with this affair, I will bid you my personal + farewell. I have often wished that circumstances had made it possible for + me to accompany you through the remaining intricacies of this remarkable + case. + </p> + <p> + But you will not lack a suitable guide. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + </h2> + <p> + At an early hour the next morning, Sweetwater stood before the coroner’s + desk, urging a plea he feared to hear refused. He wished to be present at + the interview soon to be held with Mr. Brotherson, and he had no good + reason to advance why such a privilege should be allotted him. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not curiosity,” said he. “There’s a question I hope to see settled. + I can’t communicate it—you would laugh at me; but it’s an important + one, a very important one, and I beg that you will let me sit in one of + the corners and hear what he says. I won’t bother and I’ll be very still, + so still that he’ll hardly notice me. Do grant me this favour, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyed + him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow expected. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to lay great store by it,” said he; “if you want to sort those + papers over there, you may.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I don’t understand the job, but I promise you not to increase + the confusion. If I do; if I rattle the leaves too loudly, it will mean, + ‘Press him further on this exact point,’ but I doubt if I rattle them, + sir. No such luck.” + </p> + <p> + The last three words were uttered sotto voce, but the coroner heard him, + and followed his ungainly figure with a glance of some curiosity, as he + settled himself at the desk on the other side of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Is the man—” he began, but at this moment the man entered, and Dr. + Heath forgot the young detective, in his interest in the new arrival. + </p> + <p> + Neither dressed with the elegance known to the habitues of the Clermont, + nor yet in the workman’s outfit in which he had thought best to appear + before the Associated Brotherhood, the newcomer advanced, with an aspect + of open respect which could not fail to make a favourable impression upon + the critical eye of the official awaiting him. So favourable, indeed, was + this impression that that gentleman half rose, infusing a little more + consideration into his greeting than he was accustomed to show to his + prospective witnesses. Such a fearless eye he had seldom encountered, nor + was it often his pleasure to confront so conspicuous a specimen of + physical and intellectual manhood. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson, I believe,” said he, as he motioned his visitor to sit. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Orlando Brotherson?” + </p> + <p> + “The same, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad we have made no mistake,” smiled the doctor. “Mr. Brotherson, I + have sent for you under the supposition that you were a friend of the + unhappy lady lately dead at the Hotel Clermont.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Challoner?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; Miss Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew the lady. But—” here the speaker’s eye took on a look as + questioning as that of his interlocutor—“but in a way so devoid of + all publicity that I cannot but feel surprised that the fact should be + known.” + </p> + <p> + At this, the listening Sweetwater hoped that Dr. Heath would ignore the + suggestion thus conveyed and decline the explanation it apparently + demanded. But the impression made by the gentleman’s good looks had been + too strong for this coroner’s proverbial caution, and, handing over the + slip of a note which had been found among Miss Challoner’s effects by her + father, he quietly asked: + </p> + <p> + “Do you recognise the signature?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you acknowledge yourself the author of these lines?” + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly. Have I not said that this is my signature?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the words of this note, Mr. Brotherson?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly. I recollect its tenor, but not the exact words.” + </p> + <p> + “Read them.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, I had rather not. I am aware that they were bitter and should + be the cause of great regret. I was angry when I wrote them.” + </p> + <p> + “That is evident. But the cause of your anger is not so clear, Mr. + Brotherson. Miss Challoner was a woman of lofty character, or such was the + universal opinion of her friends. What could she have done to a gentleman + like yourself to draw forth such a tirade?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask that?” + </p> + <p> + “I am obliged to. There is mystery surrounding her death;—the kind + of mystery which demands perfect frankness on the part of all who were + near her on that evening, or whose relations to her were in any way + peculiar. You acknowledge that your friendship was of such a guarded + nature that it surprised you greatly to hear it recognised. Yet you could + write her a letter of this nature. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—” the word came glibly; but the next one was long in + following. “Because,” he repeated, letting the fire of some strong feeling + disturb for a moment his dignified reserve, “I offered myself to Miss + Challoner, and she dismissed me with great disdain.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! and so you thought a threat was due her?” + </p> + <p> + “A threat?” + </p> + <p> + “These words contain a threat, do they not?” + </p> + <p> + “They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may have expressed + myself in an unfortunate manner.” + </p> + <p> + “Read the words, Mr. Brotherson. I really must insist that you do so.” + </p> + <p> + There was no hesitancy now. Rising, he leaned over the table and read the + few words the other had spread out for his perusal. Then he slowly rose to + his full height, as he answered, with some slight display of compunction: + </p> + <p> + “I remember it perfectly now. It is not a letter to be proud of. I hope—” + </p> + <p> + “Pray finish, Mr. Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + “That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this letter + and her violent death?” + </p> + <p> + “Letters of this sort are often very mischievous, Mr. Brotherson. The + harshness with which this is written might easily rouse emotions of a most + unhappy nature in the breast of a woman as sensitive as Miss Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate my + influence with the lady you name.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe, then, that she was sincere in her rejection of your + addresses?” + </p> + <p> + A start, too slight to be noted by any one but the watchful Sweetwater, + showed that this question had gone home. But the self-poise and mental + control of this man were perfect, and in an instant he was facing the + coroner again, with a dignity which gave no clew to the disturbance into + which his thoughts had just been thrown. Nor was this disturbance apparent + in his tones when he made his reply: + </p> + <p> + “I have never allowed myself to think otherwise. I have seen no reason why + I should. The suggestion you would convey by such a question is hardly + welcome, now. I pray you to be careful in your judgment of such a woman’s + impulses. They often spring from sources not to be sounded even by her + dearest friends.” + </p> + <p> + Just; but how cold! Dr. Heath, eyeing him with admiration rather than + sympathy, hesitated how to proceed; while Sweetwater, peering up from his + papers, sought in vain for some evidence of the bereaved lover in the + impressive but wholly dispassionate figure of him who had just spoken. Had + pride got the better of his heart? or had that organ always been + subordinate to the will in this man of instincts so varying, that at one + time he impressed you simply as a typical gentleman of leisure; at + another, as no more than a fiery agitator with powers absorbed by, if not + limited to the one cause he advocated; and again—and this seemed the + most contradictory of all—just the ardent inventor, living in a + tenement, with Science for his goddess and work always under his hand? As + the young detective weighed these possibilities and marvelled over the + contradictions they offered, he forgot the papers now lying quiet under + his hand. He was too interested to remember his own part—something + which could not often be said of Sweetwater. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, the coroner had collected his thoughts. With an apology for the + extremely personal nature of his inquiry, he asked Mr. Brotherson if he + would object to giving him some further details of his acquaintanceship + with Miss Challoner; where he first met her and under what circumstances + their friendship had developed. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” was the ready reply. “I have nothing to conceal in the + matter. I only wish that her father were present that he might listen to + the recital of my acquaintanceship with his daughter. He might possibly + understand her better and regard with more leniency the presumption into + which I was led by my ignorance of the pride inherent in great families.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wish can very easily be gratified,” returned the official, pressing + an electric button on his desk. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Challoner is in the adjoining room.” Then, as the door communicating + with the room he had mentioned swung ajar and stood so, Dr. Heath added, + without apparent consciousness of the dramatic character of this episode, + “You will not need to raise your voice beyond its natural pitch. He can + hear perfectly from where he sits.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I am glad to speak in his presence,” came in undisturbed + self-possession from this not easily surprised witness. “I shall relate + the facts exactly as they occurred, adding nothing and concealing nothing. + If I mistook my position, or Miss Challoner’s position, it is not for me + to apologise. I never hid my business from her, nor the moderate extent of + my fortune. If she knew me at all, she knew me for what I am; a man of the + people who glories in work and who has risen by it to a position somewhat + unique in this city. I feel no lack of equality even with such a woman as + Miss Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + A most unnecessary preamble, no doubt, and of doubtful efficacy in + smoothing his way to a correct understanding with the deeply bereaved + father. But he looked so handsome as he thus asserted himself and made so + much of his inches and the noble poise of his head—though cold of + eye and always cold of manner—that those who saw, as well as heard + him, forgave this display of egotism in consideration of its honesty and + the dignity it imparted to his person. + </p> + <p> + “I first met Miss Challoner in the Berkshires,” he began, after a moment of + quiet listening for any possible sound from the other room. “I had been on + the tramp, and had stopped at one of the great hotels for a seven days’ + rest. I will acknowledge that I chose this spot at the instigation of a + relative who knew my tastes and how perfectly they might be gratified + there. That I should mingle with the guests may not have been in his + thought, any more than it was in mine at the beginning of my stay. The + panorama of beauty spread out before me on every side was sufficient in + itself for my enjoyment, and might have continued so to the end if my + attention had not been very forcibly drawn on one memorable morning to a + young lady—Miss Challoner—by the very earnest look she gave me + as I was crossing the office from one verandah to another. I must insist + on this look, even if it shock the delicacy of my listeners, for without + the interest it awakened in me, I might not have noticed the blush with + which she turned aside to join her friends on the verandah. It was an + overwhelming blush which could not have sprung from any slight + embarrassment, and, though I hate the pretensions of those egotists who + see in a woman’s smile more than it by right conveys, I could not help + being moved by this display of feeling in one so gifted with every grace + and attribute of the perfect woman. With less caution than I usually + display, I approached the desk where she had been standing and, meeting + the eyes of the clerk, asked the young lady’s name. He gave it, and waited + for me to express the surprise he expected it to evoke. But I felt none + and showed none. Other feelings had seized me. I had heard of this + gracious woman from many sources, in my life among the suffering masses of + New York, and now that I had seen her and found her to be not only my + ideal of personal loveliness but seemingly approachable and not + uninterested in myself, I allowed my fancy to soar and my heart to become + touched. A fact which the clerk now confided to me naturally deepened the + impression. Miss Challoner had seen my name in the guest-book and asked to + have me pointed out to her. Perhaps she had heard my name spoken in the + same quarter where I had heard hers. We have never exchanged confidences + on the subject, and I cannot say. I can only give you my reason for the + interest I felt in Miss Challoner and why I forgot, in the glamour of this + episode, the aims and purposes of a not unambitious life and the distance + which the world and the so-called aristocratic class put between a woman + of her wealth and standing and a simple worker like myself. + </p> + <p> + “I must be pardoned. She had smiled upon me once, and she smiled again. + Days before we were formally presented, I caught her softened look turned + my way, as we passed each other in hall or corridor. We were friends, or + so it appeared to me, before ever a word passed between us, and when + fortune favoured us and we were duly introduced, our minds met in a + strange sympathy which made this one interview a memorable one to me. + Unhappily, as I then considered it, this was my last day at the hotel, and + our conversation, interrupted frequently by passing acquaintances, was + never resumed. I exchanged a few words with her by way of good-bye but + nothing more. I came to New York, and she remained in Lenox. A month after + and she too came to New York.” + </p> + <p> + “This good-bye—do you remember it? The exact language, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I do; it made a great impression on me. ‘I shall hope for our further + acquaintance,’ she said. ‘We have one very strong interest in common.’ And + if ever a human face spoke eloquently, it was hers at that moment. The + interest, as I understood it, was our mutual sympathy for our toiling, + half-starved, down-trodden brothers and sisters in the lower streets of + this city; but the eloquence—that I probably mistook. I thought it + sprang from personal interest, and it gave me courage to pursue the + intention which had taken the place of every other feeling and ambition by + which I had hitherto been moved. Here was a woman in a thousand; one who + could make a man of me indeed. If she could ignore the social gulf between + us, I felt free to take the leap. Cowardice had never been a fault of + mine. But I was no fool even then. I realised that I must first let her + see the manner of man I was and what life meant to me and must mean to her + if the union I contemplated should become an actual fact. I wrote letters + to her, but I did not give her my address or even request a reply. I was + not ready for any word from her. I am not like other men and I could wait. + And I did, for weeks, then I suddenly appeared at her hotel.” + </p> + <p> + The change of voice—the bitterness which he infused into this final + sentence made every one look up. Hitherto he had spoken calmly, almost + monotonously, as if no present heart-beat responded to this tale of + vanished love; but with the words, “Then I suddenly appeared at her + hotel,” he showed himself human again, and betrayed a passion which though + curbed was of the fiery quality, befitting his extraordinary attributes of + mind and person. + </p> + <p> + “This was when?” put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which must + have been very painful to the listening father. + </p> + <p> + “The week after Thanksgiving. I did not see her the first day, and only + casually the second. But she knew I was in the building, and when I came + upon her one evening seated at the very desk in the mezzanine which we all + have such bitter cause to remember, I could not forbear expressing myself + in a way she could not misunderstand. The result was of a kind to drive a + man like myself to an extremity of self-condemnation and rage. She rose up + as if insulted, and flung me one sentence and one sentence only before she + hailed the elevator and left my presence. A cur could not have been + dismissed with less ceremony.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not like my daughter. What was the sentence you allude to? Let me + hear the very words.” Mr. Challoner had come forward and now stood + awaiting his reply, a dignified but pathetic figure, which all must view + with respect. + </p> + <p> + “I hate the memory of them, but since you demand it, I will repeat them + just as they fell from her lips,” was Mr. Brotherson’s bitter retort. “She + said, ‘You of all men should recognise the unseemliness of these + proposals. Had your letters given me any hint of the feelings you have + just expressed, you would never have had this opportunity of approaching + me.’ That was all; but her indignation was scathing. Ladies who have + supped exclusively off silver, show a fine scorn for the common ware of + the cottager.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner bowed. “There is some mistake,” said he. “My daughter might + be averse to your addresses, but she would never show indignation to any + aspirant for her hand, simply on account of extraneous conditions. She had + wide sympathies—wider than I often approved. Something in your + conduct or the confidence you showed shocked her nicer sense; not your + lack of the luxuries she often misprised. This much I feel obliged to say, + out of justice to her character, which was uniformly considerate.” + </p> + <p> + “You have seen her with men of her own world and yours,” was the harsh + response. “She had another side to her nature for the man of a different + sphere. And it killed my love—that you can see—and led to my + sending her the injudicious letter with which you have confronted me. The + hurt bull utters one bellow before he dies. I bellowed, and bellowed + loudly, but I did not die. I’m my own man still and mean to remain so.” + </p> + <p> + The assertive boldness—some would call it bravado—with which + he thus finished the story of his relations with the dead heiress, seemed + to be more than Mr. Challoner could stand. With a look of extreme pain and + perplexity he vanished from the doorway, and it fell to Dr. Heath to + inquire: + </p> + <p> + “Is this letter—a letter of threat you will remember—the only + communication which passed between you and Miss Challoner after this + unfortunate passage of arms at the Clermont?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this one + outburst whatever humiliation I felt.” + </p> + <p> + “And she? Did she give no sign, make you no answer?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever.” Then, as if he found it impossible to hide this hurt to + his pride, “She did not even seem to consider me worthy the honour of an + added rebuke. Such arrogance is, no doubt, commendable in a Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + This time his bitterness did not pass unrebuked by the coroner: + </p> + <p> + “Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, and + respect his grief.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brotherson bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I have finished,” said he. “I shall have nothing more to say on the + subject.” And he drew himself up in expectation of the dismissal he + evidently thought pending. + </p> + <p> + But the coroner was not done with him by any means. He had a theory in + regard to this lamentable suicide which he hoped to establish by this + man’s testimony, and, in pursuit of this plan, he not only motioned to Mr. + Brotherson to reseat himself, but began at once to open a fresh line of + examination by saying: + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me, if I press this matter. I have been given to + understand that notwithstanding your break with Miss Challoner, you have + kept up your visits to the Clermont and were even on the spot at the time + of her death.” + </p> + <p> + “On the spot?” + </p> + <p> + “In the hotel, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “There you are right; I was in the hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “At the time of her death?” + </p> + <p> + “Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the lobby + behind me, just as I was passing out at the Broadway entrance.” + </p> + <p> + “You did, and did not return?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I return? I am not a man of much curiosity. There was no + reason why I should connect a sudden alarm in the lobby of the Clermont + with any cause of special interest to myself.” + </p> + <p> + This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so frank + that the coroner hesitated a moment before he said: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, unless—well, to be direct, unless you had just seen + Miss Challoner and knew her state of mind and what was likely to follow + your abrupt departure.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no interview with Miss Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “But you saw her? Saw her that evening and just before the accident?” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater’s papers rattled; it was the only sound to be heard in that + moment of silence. Then—“What do you mean by those words?” inquired + Mr. Brotherson, with studied composure. “I have said that I had no + interview with Miss Challoner. Why do you ask me then, if I saw her?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yet + directly and with no possibility of mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you put that as a question?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. Did you see her figure or face that night?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing—not even the rattling of Sweetwater’s papers—disturbed + the silence which followed this admission. + </p> + <p> + “From where?” Dr. Heath asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “From a point far enough away to make any communication between us + impossible. I do not think you will require me to recall the exact spot.” + </p> + <p> + “If it were one which made it possible for her to see you as clearly as + you could see her, I think it would be very advisable for you to say so.” + </p> + <p> + “It was—such—a spot.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I think I can locate it for you, or do you prefer to locate it + yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I will locate it myself. I had hoped not to be called upon to mention + what I cannot but consider a most unfortunate coincidence. As a gentleman + you will understand my reticence and also why it is a matter of regret to + me that with an acumen worthy of your position, you should have discovered + a fact which, while it cannot explain Miss Challoner’s death, will drag + our little affair before the public, and possibly give it a prominence in + some minds which I am sure does not belong to it. I met Miss Challoner’s + eye for one instant from the top of the little staircase running up to the + mezzanine. I had yielded thus far to an impulse I had frequently combated, + to seek by another interview to retrieve the bad effect which must have + been made upon her by my angry note. I knew that she frequently wrote + letters in the mezzanine at this hour, and got as far as the top of the + staircase in my effort to join her. But got no further. When I saw her on + her feet, with her face turned my way, I remembered the scorn with which + she had received my former heart-felt proposals and, without taking + another step forward, I turned away from her and fled down the steps and + so out of the building by the main entrance. She saw me, for her hand flew + up with a startled gesture, but I cannot think that my presence on the + same floor with her could have caused her to strike the blow which + terminated her life. Why should I? No woman sacrifices her life out of + mere regret for the disdain she has shown a man she has taken no pains to + understand.” + </p> + <p> + His tone and his attitude seemed to invite the concurrence of Dr. Heath in + this statement. But the richness of the one and the grace of the other + showed the handsome speaker off to such advantage that the coroner was + rather inclined to consider how a woman, even of Miss Challoner’s fine + taste and careful breeding, might see in such a situation much for regret, + if not for active despair and the suicidal act. He gave no evidence of his + thought, however, but followed up the one admission made by Mr. Brotherson + which he and others must naturally view as of the first importance. + </p> + <p> + “You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and what was + in it? Anything?” + </p> + <p> + “She lifted her right hand, but it would be impossible for me to tell you + whether there was anything in it or not. I simply saw the movement before + I turned away. It looked like one of alarm to me. I felt that she had some + reason for this. She could not know that it was in repentance I came + rather than in fulfilment of my threat.” + </p> + <p> + A sigh from the adjoining room. Mr. Brotherson rose, as he heard it, and + in doing so met the clear eye of Sweetwater fixed upon his own. Its + language was, no doubt, peculiar and it seemed to fascinate him for a + moment, for he started as if to approach the detective, but forsook this + intention almost immediately, and addressing the coroner, gravely + remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Her death following so quickly upon this abortive attempt of mine at an + interview startled me by its coincidence as much as it does you. If in the + weakness of her woman’s nature, it was more than this—if the scorn + she had previously shown me was a cloak she instinctively assumed to hide + what she was not ready to disclose, my remorse will be as great as any one + here could wish. But the proof of all this will have to be very convincing + before my present convictions will yield to it. Some other and more + poignant source will have to be found for that instant’s impulsive act + than is supplied by this story of my unfortunate attachment.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Heath was convinced, but he was willing to concede something to the + secret demand made upon him by Sweetwater, who was bundling up his papers + with much clatter. + </p> + <p> + Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly conscious + of perhaps himself, he asked in an off-hand way: + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair the + moment you had left the hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + “You passed around the corner into—street, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely. I could go that way as well as another.” + </p> + <p> + “And stopped at the first lamp-post?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see. Someone saw that childish action of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you mean by it?” + </p> + <p> + “Just what you have suggested. I did go through the pantomime of washing + my hands of an affair I considered definitely ended. I had resisted an + irrepressible impulse to see and talk with Miss Challoner again, and was + pleased with my firmness. Unaware of the tragic blow which had just + fallen, I was full of self-congratulations at my escape from the charm + which had lured me back to this hotel again and again in spite of my + better judgment, and I wished to symbolise my relief by an act of which I + was, in another moment, ashamed. Strange that there should have been a + witness to it. (Here he stole a look at Sweetwater.) Stranger still, that + circumstances by the most extraordinary of coincidences, should have given + so unforeseen a point to it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Mr. Brotherson. The whole occurrence is startling and most + strange. But life is made up of the unexpected, as none know better than + we physicians, whether our practice be of a public or private character.” + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Brotherson left the room, the curiosity to which he had yielded + once before, led him to cast a glance of penetrating inquiry behind him + full at Sweetwater, and if either felt embarrassment, it was not the + hunted but the hunter. + </p> + <p> + But the feeling did not last. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve simply met the strongest man I’ve ever encountered,” was + Sweetwater’s encouraging comment to himself. “All the more glory if I can + find a joint in his armour or a hidden passage to his cold, secretive + heart.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + </h2> + <p> + “Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You must + decide which.” + </p> + <p> + The aged detective, thus addressed, laid down his evening paper and + endeavoured to make out the dim form he could just faintly discern + standing between him and the library door. + </p> + <p> + “Sweetwater, is that you?” + </p> + <p> + “No one else. Sweetwater, the fool, or Sweetwater, much too wise for his + own good. I don’t know which. Perhaps you can find out and tell me.” + </p> + <p> + A grunt from the region of the library table, then the sarcastic remark: + </p> + <p> + “I’m just in the mood to settle that question. This last failure to my + account ought to make me an excellent judge of another’s folly. I’ve + meddled with the old business for the last time, Sweetwater. You’ll have + to go it lone from now on. The Department has no more work for Ebenezar + Gryce, or rather Ebenezar Gryce will make no more fool attempts to please + them. Strange that a man don’t know when his time has come to quit. I + remember low I once scored Yeardsley for hanging on after he had lost his + grip; and here am I doing the same thing. But what’s the matter with you? + Speak out, my boy. Something new in the wind?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Gryce; nothing new. It’s the same old business. But, if what I + suspect is true, this same old business offers opportunities for some very + interesting and unusual effort. You’re not satisfied with the coroner’s + verdict in the Challoner case?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I’m satisfied with nothing that leaves all ends dangling. Suicide was + not proved. It seemed the only presumption possible, but it was not + proved. There was no blood-stain on that cutter-point.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor any evidence that it had ever been there.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I’m not proud of the chain which lacks a link where it should be + strongest.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall never supply that link.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you.” + </p> + <p> + “That chain we must throw away.” + </p> + <p> + “And forge another?” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater approached and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I believe we can do it; yet I have only one indisputable fact for a + starter. That is why I want you to tell me whether I’m growing daft or + simply adventurous. Mr. Gryce, I don’t trust Brotherson. He has pulled the + wool over Dr. Heath’s eyes and almost over those of Mr. Challoner. But he + can’t pull it over mine. Though he should tell a story ten times more + plausible than the one with which he has satisfied the coroner’s jury, I + would still listen to him with more misgiving than confidence. Yet I have + caught him in no misstatement, and his eye is steadier than my own. + Perhaps it is simply a deeply rooted antipathy on my part, or the rage one + feels at finding he has placed his finger on the wrong man. Again it may + be—” + </p> + <p> + “What, Sweetwater?” + </p> + <p> + “A well-founded distrust. Mr. Gryce, I’m going to ask you a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask away. Ask fifty if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + “No; the one may involve fifty, but it is big enough in itself to hold our + attention for a while. Did you ever hear of a case before, that in some of + its details was similar to this?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it stands alone. That’s why it is so puzzling.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget. The wealth, beauty and social consequence of the present + victim has blinded you to the strong resemblance which her case bears to + one you know, in which the sufferer had none of the worldly advantages of + Miss Challoner. I allude to—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait! the washerwoman in Hicks Street! Sweetwater, what have you got up + your sleeve? You do mean that Brooklyn washerwoman, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “The same. The Department may have forgotten it, but I haven’t. Mr. Gryce, + there’s a startling similarity in the two cases if you study the essential + features only. Startling, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are right there. But what if there is? We were no more + successful in solving that case than we have been in solving this. Yet you + look and act like a hound which has struck a hot scent.” The young man + smoothed his features with an embarrassed laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never learn,” said he, “not to give tongue till the hunt is + fairly started. If you will excuse me we’ll first make sure of the + similarity I have mentioned. Then I’ll explain myself. I have some notes + here, made at the time it was decided to drop the Hicks Street case as a + wholly inexplicable one. As you know, I never can bear to say ‘die,’ and I + sometimes keep such notes as a possible help in case any such unfinished + matter should come up again. Shall I read them?” + </p> + <p> + “Do. Twenty years ago it would not have been necessary. I should have + remembered every detail of an affair so puzzling. But my memory is no + longer entirely reliable. So fire away, my boy, though I hardly see your + purpose or what real bearing the affair in Hicks Street has upon the + Clermont one. A poor washerwoman and the wealthy Miss Challoner! True, + they were not unlike in their end.” + </p> + <p> + “The connection will come later,” smiled the young detective, with that + strange softening of his features which made one at times forget his + extreme plainness. “I’m sure you will not consider the time lost if I ask + you to consider the comparison I am about to make, if only as a curiosity + in criminal annals.” + </p> + <p> + And he read: + </p> + <p> + “‘On the afternoon of December Fourth, 1910, the strong and persistent + screaming of a young child in one of the rooms of a rear tenement in Hicks + Street, Brooklyn, drew the attention of some of the inmates and led them, + after several ineffectual efforts to gain an entrance, to the breaking in + of the door which had been fastened on the inside by an old-fashioned + door-button. + </p> + <p> + “‘The tenant whom all knew for an honest, hard-working woman, had not + infrequently fastened her door in this manner, in order to safeguard her + child who was abnormally active and had a way of rattling the door open + when it was not thus secured. But she had never refused to open before, + and the child’s cries were pitiful. + </p> + <p> + “‘This was no longer a matter of wonder, when, the door having been + wrenched from its hinges, they all rushed in. Across a tub of steaming + clothes lifted upon a bench in the open window, they saw the body of this + good woman, lying inert and seemingly dead; the frightened child tugging + at her skirts. She was of a robust make, fleshy and fair, and had always + been considered a model of health and energy, but at the sight of her + helpless figure, thus stricken while at work, the one cry was ‘A stroke! + till she had been lifted off and laid upon the floor. Then some + discoloration in the water at the bottom of the tub led to a closer + examination of her body, and the discovery of a bullet-hole in her breast + directly over the heart. + </p> + <p> + “‘As she had been standing with face towards the window, all crowded that + way to see where the shot had come from. As they were on the fourth storey + it could not have come from the court upon which the room looked. It could + only have come from the front tenement, towering up before them some + twenty feet away. A single window of the innumerable ones confronting them + stood open, and this was the one directly opposite. + </p> + <p> + “‘Nobody was to be seen there or in the room beyond, but during the + excitement, one man ran off to call the police and another to hunt up the + janitor and ask who occupied this room. + </p> + <p> + “‘His reply threw them all into confusion. The tenant of that room was the + best, the quietest and most respectable man in either building. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then he must be simply careless and the shot an accidental one. A rush + was made for the stairs and soon the whole building was in an uproar. But + when this especial room was reached, it was found locked and on the door a + paper pinned up, on which these words were written: Gone to New York. Will + be back at 6:30! Words that recalled a circumstance to the janitor. He had + seen the gentleman go out an hour before. This terminated all inquiry in + this direction, though some few of the excited throng were for battering + down this door just as they had the other one. But they were overruled by + the janitor, who saw no use in such wholesale destruction, and presently + the arrival of the police restored order and limited the inquiry to the + rear building, where it undoubtedly belonged.’ + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gryce,” (here Sweetwater laid by his notes that he might address the + old gentleman more directly), “I was with the boys when they made their + first official investigation. This is why you can rely upon the facts as + here given. I followed the investigation closely and missed nothing which + could in any way throw light on the case. It was a mysterious one from the + first, and lost nothing by further inquiry into the details. + </p> + <p> + “The first fact to startle us as we made our way up through the crowd + which blocked halls and staircases was this:—A doctor had been found + and, though he had been forbidden to make more than a cursory examination + of the body till the coroner came, he had not hesitated to declare after + his first look, that the wound had not been made by a bullet but by some + sharp and slender weapon thrust home by a powerful hand. (You mark that, + Mr. Gryce.) As this seemed impossible in face of the fact that the door + had been found buttoned on the inside, we did not give much credit to his + opinion and began our work under the obvious theory of an accidental + discharge of some gun from one of the windows across the court. But the + doctor was nearer right than we supposed. When the coroner came to look + into the matter, he discovered that the wound was not only too small to + have been made by the ordinary bullet, but that there was no bullet to be + found in the woman’s body or anywhere else. Her heart had been reached by + a thrust and not by a shot from a gun. Mr. Gryce, have you not heard a + startling repetition of this report in a case nearer at hand? + </p> + <p> + “But to go back. This discovery, so important if true, was as yet—that + is, at the time of our entering the room,—limited to the off-hand + declaration of an irresponsible physician, but the possibility it involved + was of so astonishing a nature that it influenced us unconsciously in our + investigation and led us almost immediately into a consideration of the + difficulties attending an entrance into, as well as an escape from, a room + situated as this was. + </p> + <p> + “Up three flights from the court, with no communication with the adjoining + rooms save through a door guarded on both sides by heavy pieces of + furniture no one person could handle, the hall door buttoned on the + inside, and the fire-escape some fifteen feet to the left, this room of + death appeared to be as removed from the approach of a murderous outsider + as the spot in the writing-room of the Clermont where Miss Challoner fell. + </p> + <p> + “Otherwise, the place presented the greatest contrast possible to that + scene of splendour and comfort. I had not entered the Clermont at that + time, and no, such comparison could have struck my mind. But I have + thought of it since, and you, with your experience, will not find it + difficult to picture the room where this poor woman lived and worked. Bare + walls, with just a newspaper illustration pinned up here and there, a bed—tragically + occupied at this moment—a kitchen stove on which a boiler, + half-filled with steaming clothes still bubbled and foamed,—an old + bureau,—a large pine wardrobe against an inner door which we later + found to have been locked for months, and the key lost,—some chairs—and + most pronounced of all, because of its position directly before the + window, a pine bench supporting a wash-tub of the old sort. + </p> + <p> + “As it was here the woman fell, this tub naturally received the closest + examination. A board projected from its further side, whither it had + evidently been pushed by the weight of her falling body; and from its top + hung a wet cloth, marking with its lugubrious drip on the boards beneath + the first heavy moments of silence which is the natural accompaniment of + so serious a survey. On the floor to the right lay a half-used cake of + soap just as it had slipped from her hand. The window was closed, for the + temperature was at the freezing-point, but it had been found up, and it + was put up now to show the height at which it had then stood. As we all + took our look at the house wall opposite, a sound of shouting came up from + below. A dozen children were sliding on barrel staves down a slope of + heaped-up snow. They had been engaged in this sport all the afternoon and + were our witnesses later that no one had made a hazardous escape by means + of the ladder of the fire-escape, running, as I have said, at an almost + unattainable distance towards the left. + </p> + <p> + “Of her own child, whose cries had roused the neighbours, nothing was to + be seen. The woman in the extreme rear had carried it off to her room; but + when we came to see it later, no doubt was felt by any of us that this + child was too young to talk connectedly, nor did I ever hear that it ever + said anything which could in any way guide investigation. + </p> + <p> + “And that is as far as we ever got. The coroner’s jury brought in a + verdict of death by means of a stab from some unknown weapon in the hand + of a person also unknown, but no weapon was ever found, nor was it ever + settled how the attack could have been made or the murderer escape under + the conditions described. The woman was poor, her friends few, and the + case seemingly inexplicable. So after creating some excitement by its + peculiarities, it fell of its own weight. But I remembered it, and in many + a spare hour have tried to see my way through the no-thoroughfare it + presented. But quite in vain. To-day, the road is as blind as ever, but—” + here Sweetwater’s face sharpened and his eyes burned as he leaned closer + and closer to the older detective—“but this second case, so unlike + the first in non-essentials but so exactly like it in just those points + which make the mystery, has dropped a thread from its tangled skein into + my hand, which may yet lead us to the heart of both. Can you guess—have + you guessed—what this thread is? But how could you without the one + clew I have not given you? Mr. Gryce, the tenement where this occurred is + the same I visited the other night in search of Mr. Brotherson. And the + man characterised at that time by the janitor as the best, the quietest + and most respectable tenant in the whole building, and the one you + remember whose window opened directly opposite the spot where this woman + lay dead, was Mr. Dunn himself, or, in other words, our late redoubtable + witness, Mr. Orlando Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + </h2> + <p> + “I thought I should make you sit up. I really calculated upon doing so, + sir. Yes, I have established the plain fact that this Brotherson was near + to, if not in the exact line of the scene of crime in each of these + extraordinary and baffling cases. A very odd coincidence, is it not?” was + the dry conclusion of our eager young detective. + </p> + <p> + “Odd enough if you are correct in your statement. But I thought it was + conceded that the man Brotherson was not personally near,—was not + even in the building at the time of the woman’s death in Hicks Street; + that he was out and had been out for hours, according to the janitor.” + </p> + <p> + “And so the janitor thought, but he didn’t quite know his man. I’m not + sure that I do. But I mean to make his acquaintance and make it thoroughly + before I let him go. The hero—well, I will say the possible hero of + two such adventures—deserves some attention from one so interested + in the abnormal as myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweetwater, how came you to discover that Mr. Dunn of this ramshackle + tenement in Hicks Street was identical with the elegantly equipped admirer + of Miss Challoner?” + </p> + <p> + “Just this way. The night before Miss Challoner’s death I was brooding + very deeply over the Hicks Street case. It had so possessed me that I had + taken this street in on my way from Flatbush; as if staring at the house + and its swarming courtyard was going to settle any such question as that! + I walked by the place and I looked up at the windows. No inspiration. Then + I sauntered back and entered the house with the fool intention of crossing + the courtyard and wandering into the rear building where the crime had + occurred. But my attention was diverted and my mind changed by seeing a + man coming down the stairs before me, of so fine a figure that I + involuntarily stopped to look at him. Had he moved a little less + carelessly, had he worn his workman’s clothes a little less naturally, I + should have thought him some college bred man out on a slumming + expedition. But he was entirely too much at home where he was, and too + unconscious of his jeans for any such conclusion on my part, and when he + had passed out I had enough curiosity to ask who he was. + </p> + <p> + “My interest, you may believe, was in no wise abated when I learned that + he was that highly respectable tenant whose window had been open at the + time when half the inmates of the two buildings had rushed up to his door, + only to find a paper on it displaying these words: Gone to New York; will + be back at 6:30. Had he returned at that hour? I don’t think anybody had + ever asked; and what reason had I for such interference now? But an idea + once planted in my brain sticks tight, and I kept thinking of this man all + the way to the Bridge. Instinctively and quite against my will, I found + myself connecting him with some previous remembrance in which I seemed to + see his tall form and strong features under the stress of some great + excitement. But there my memory stopped, till suddenly as I was entering + the subway, it all came back to me. I had met him the day I went with the + boys to investigate the case in Hicks Street. He was coming down the + staircase of the rear tenement then, very much as I had just seen him + coming down the one in front. Only the Dunn of to-day seemed to have all + his wits about him, while the huge fellow who brushed so rudely by me on + that occasion had the peculiar look of a man struggling with horror or + some other grave agitation. This was not surprising, of course, under the + circumstances. I had met more than one man and woman in those halls who + had worn the same look; but none of them had put up a sign on his door + that he had left for New York and would not be back till 6:30, and then + changed his mind so suddenly that he was back in the tenement at three, + sharing the curiosity and the terrors of its horrified inmates. + </p> + <p> + “But the discovery, while possibly suggestive, was not of so pressing a + nature as to demand instant action; and more immediate duties coming up, I + let the matter slip from my mind, to be brought up again the next day, you + may well believe, when all the circumstances of the death at the Clermont + came to light and I found myself confronted by a problem very nearly the + counterpart of the one then occupying me. + </p> + <p> + “But I did not see any real connection between the two cases, until, in my + hunt for Mr. Brotherson, I came upon the following facts: that he was not + always the gentleman he appeared: that the apartment in which he was + supposed to live was not his own but a friend’s; and that he was only + there by spells. When he was there, he dressed like a prince and it was + while so clothed he ate his meals in the cafe of the Hotel Clermont. + </p> + <p> + “But there were times when he had been seen to leave this apartment in a + very different garb, and while there was no one to insinuate that he was + slack in paying his debts or was given to dissipation or any overt vice, + it was generally conceded by such as casually knew him, that there was a + mysterious side to his life which no one understood. His friend—a + seemingly candid and open-minded gentleman—explained these + contradictions by saying that Mr. Brotherson was a humanitarian and spent + much of his time in the slums. That while so engaged he naturally dressed + to suit the occasion, and if he was to be criticised at all, it was for + his zeal which often led him to extremes and kept him to his task for + days, during which time none of his up-town friends saw him. Then this + enthusiastic gentleman called him the great intellectual light of the day, + and—well, if ever I want a character I shall take pains to insinuate + myself into the good graces of this Mr. Conway. + </p> + <p> + “Of Brotherson himself I saw nothing. He had come to Mr. Conway’s + apartment the night before—the night of Miss Challoner’s death, you + understand but had remained only long enough to change his clothes. Where + he went afterwards is unknown to Mr. Conway, nor can he tell us when to + look for his return. When he does show up, my message will be given him, + etc., etc. I have no fault to find with Mr. Conway. + </p> + <p> + “But I had an idea in regard to this elusive Brotherson. I had heard + enough about him to be mighty sure that together with his other + accomplishments he possessed the golden tongue and easy speech of an + orator. Also, that his tendencies were revolutionary and that for all his + fine clothes and hankering after table luxuries and the like, he cherished + a spite against wealth which made his words under certain moods cut like a + knife. But there was another man, known to us of the —— + Precinct, who had very nearly these same gifts, and this man was going to + speak at a secret meeting that very evening. This we had been told by a + disgruntled member of the Associated Brotherhood. Suspecting Brotherson, I + had this prospective speaker described, and thought I recognised my man. + But I wanted to be positive in my identification, so I took Anderson with + me, and—but I’ll cut that short. We didn’t see the orator and that + ‘go’ went for nothing; but I had another string to my bow in the shape of + the workman Dunn who also answered to the description which had been given + me; so I lugged poor Anderson over into Hicks Street. + </p> + <p> + “It was late for the visit I proposed, but not too late, if Dunn was also + the orator who, surprised by a raid I had not been let into, would be + making for his home, if only to establish an alibi. The subway was near, + and I calculated on his using it, but we took a taxicab and so arrived in + Hicks Street some few minutes before him. The result you know. Anderson + recognised the man as the one whom he saw washing his hands in the snow + outside of the Clermont, and the man, seeing himself discovered, owned + himself to be Brotherson and made no difficulty about accompanying us the + next day to the coroner’s office. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard how he bore himself; what his explanations were and how + completely they fitted in with the preconceived notions of the Inspector + and the District Attorney. In consequence, Miss Challoner’s death is + looked upon as a suicide—the impulsive act of a woman who sees the + man she may have scouted but whom she secretly loves, turn away from her + in all probability forever. A weapon was in her hand—she impulsively + used it, and another deplorable suicide was added to the melancholy list. + Had I put in my oar at the conference held in the coroner’s office; had I + recalled to Dr. Heath the curious case of Mrs. Spotts, and then identified + Brotherson as the man whose window fronted hers from the opposite + tenement, a diversion might have been created and the outcome been + different. But I feared the experiment. I’m not sufficiently in with the + Chief as yet, nor yet with the Inspector. They might not have called me a + fool—you may; but that’s different—and they might have + listened, but it would doubtless have been with an air I could not have + held up against, with that fellow’s eyes fixed mockingly on mine. For he + and I are pitted for a struggle, and I do not want to give him the + advantage of even a momentary triumph. He’s the most complete master of + himself of any man I ever met, and it will take the united brain and + resolution of the whole force to bring him to book—if he ever is + brought to book, which I doubt. What do you think about it?” + </p> + <p> + “That you have given me an antidote against old age,” was the ringing and + unexpected reply, as the thoughtful, half-puzzled aspect of the old man + yielded impulsively to a burst of his early enthusiasm. “If we can get a + good grip on the thread you speak of, and can work ourselves along by it, + though it be by no more than an inch at a time, we shall yet make our way + through this labyrinth of undoubted crime and earn for ourselves a triumph + which will make some of these raw and inexperienced young fellows about us + stare. Sweetwater, coincidences are possible. We run upon them every day. + But coincidence in crime! that should make work for a detective, and we + are not afraid of work. There’s my hand for my end of the business.” + </p> + <p> + “And here’s mine.” + </p> + <p> + Next minute the two heads were closer than ever together, and the business + had begun. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S HEART + </h2> + <p> + “Our first difficulty is this. We must prove motive. Now, I do not think + it will be so very hard to show that this Brotherson cherished feelings of + revenge towards Miss Challoner. But I have to acknowledge right here and + now that the most skillful and vigourous pumping of the janitor and such + other tenants of the Hicks Street tenement as I have dared to approach, + fails to show that he has ever held any communication with Mrs. Spotts, or + even knew of her existence until her remarkable death attracted his + attention. I have spent all the afternoon over this, and with no result. A + complete break in the chain at the very start.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! we will set that down, then, as so much against us.” + </p> + <p> + “The next, and this is a bitter pill too, is the almost insurmountable + difficulty already recognised of determining how a man, without + approaching his victim, could manage to inflict a mortal stab in her + breast. No cloak of complete invisibility has yet been found, even by the + cleverest criminals.” + </p> + <p> + “True. The problem is such as a nightmare offers. For years my dreams have + been haunted by a gnome who proposes just such puzzles.” + </p> + <p> + “But there’s an answer to everything, and I’m sure there’s an answer to + this. Remember his business. He’s an inventor, with startling ideas. So + much I’ve seen for myself. You may stretch probabilities a little in his + case; and with this conceded, we may add by way of off-set to the + difficulties you mention, coincidences of time and circumstance, and his + villainous heart. Oh, I know that I am prejudiced; but wait and see! Miss + Challoner was well rid of him even at the cost of her life.” + </p> + <p> + “She loved him. Even her father believes that now. Some lately discovered + letters have come to light to prove that she was by no means so heart free + as he supposed. One of her friends, it seems, has also confided to him + that once, while she and Miss Challoner were sitting together, she caught + Miss Challoner in the act of scribbling capitals over a sheet of paper. + They were all B’s with the exception of here and there a neatly turned O, + and when her friend twitted her with her fondness for these two letters, + and suggested a pleasing monogram, Miss Challoner answered, ‘O. B. + (transferring the letters, as you see) are the initials of the finest man + in the world.’” + </p> + <p> + “Gosh! has he heard this story?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The gentleman in question.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t think so. It was told me in confidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Told you, Mr. Gryce? Pardon my curiosity.” + </p> + <p> + “By Mr. Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! by Mr. Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “He is greatly distressed at having the disgraceful suggestion of suicide + attached to his daughter’s name. Notwithstanding the circumstances,—notwithstanding + his full recognition of her secret predilection for a man of whom he had + never heard till the night of her death, he cannot believe that she struck + the blow she did, intentionally. He sent for me in order to inquire if + anything could be done to reinstate her in public opinion. He dared not + insist that another had wielded the weapon which laid her low so suddenly, + but he asked if, in my experience, it had never been known that a woman, + hyper-sensitive to some strong man’s magnetic influence, should so follow + his thought as to commit an act which never could have arisen in her own + mind, uninfluenced. He evidently does not like Brotherson either.” + </p> + <p> + “And what—what did you—say?” asked Sweetwater, with a halting + utterance and his face full of thought. + </p> + <p> + “I simply quoted the latest authority on hypnotism that no person even in + hypnotic sleep could be influenced by another to do what was antagonistic + to his natural instincts.” + </p> + <p> + “Latest authority. That doesn’t mean a final one. Supposing that it was + hypnotism! But that wouldn’t account for Mrs. Spotts’ death. Her wound + certainly was not a self-inflicted one.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you be sure?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no weapon found in the room, or in the court. The snow was + searched and the children too. No weapon, Mr. Gryce, not even a + paper-cutter. Besides—but how did Mr. Challoner take what you said? + Was he satisfied with this assurance?” + </p> + <p> + “He had to be. I didn’t dare to hold out any hope based on so + unsubstantial a theory. But the interview had this effect upon me. If the + possibility remains of fixing guilt elsewhere than on Miss Challoner’s + inconsiderate impulse, I am ready to devote any amount of time and + strength to the work. To see this grieving father relieved from the worst + part of his burden is worth some effort and now you know why I have + listened so eagerly to you. Sweetwater, I will go with you to the + Superintendent. We may not gain his attention and again we may. If we + don’t—but we won’t cross that bridge prematurely. When will you be + ready for this business?” + </p> + <p> + “I must be at Headquarters to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Good, then let it be to-morrow. A taxicab, Sweetwater. The subway for the + young. I can no longer manage the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. A CONCESSION + </h2> + <p> + “It is true; there seems to be something extraordinary in the + coincidence.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Mr. Brotherson, in the presence of the Inspector. + </p> + <p> + “But that is all there is to it,” he easily proceeded. “I knew Miss + Challoner and I have already said how much and how little I had to do with + her death. The other woman I did not know at all; I did not even know her + name. A prosecution based on grounds so flimsy as those you advance would + savour of persecution, would it not?” + </p> + <p> + The Inspector, surprised by this unexpected attack, regarded the speaker + with an interest rather augmented than diminished by his boldness. The + smile with which he had uttered these concluding words yet lingered on his + lips, lighting up features of a mould too suggestive of command to be + associated readily with guilt. That the impression thus produced was + favourable, was evident from the tone of the Inspector’s reply: + </p> + <p> + “We have said nothing about prosecution, Mr. Brotherson. We hope to avoid + any such extreme measures, and that we may the more readily do so, we have + given you this opportunity to make such explanations as the situation, + which you yourself have characterised as remarkable, seems to call for.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready. But what am I called upon to explain? I really cannot see, + sir. Knowing nothing more about either case than you do, I fear that I + shall not add much to your enlightenment.” + </p> + <p> + “You can tell us why with your seeming culture and obvious means, you + choose to spend so much time in a second-rate tenement like the one in + Hicks Street.” + </p> + <p> + Again that chill smile preceding the quiet answer: + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen my room there? It is piled to the ceiling with books. When + I was a poor man, I chose the abode suited to my purse and my passion for + first-rate reading. As I grew better off, my time became daily more + valuable. I have never seen the hour when I felt like moving that precious + collection. Besides, I am a man of the people. I like the working class, + and am willing to be thought one of them. I can find time to talk to a + hard-pushed mechanic as easily as to such members of the moneyed class as + I encounter on stray evenings at the Hotel Clermont. I have led—I + may say that I am leading—a double life; but of neither am I + ashamed, nor have I cause to be. Love drove me to ape the gentleman in the + halls of the Clermont; a broad human interest in the work of the world, to + live as a fellow among the mechanics of Hicks Street.” + </p> + <p> + “But why make use of one name as a gentleman of leisure and quite a + different one as the honest workman?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there you touch upon my real secret. I have a reason for keeping my + identity quiet till my invention is completed.” + </p> + <p> + “A reason connected with your anarchistic tendencies?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” But the word was uttered in a way to carry little conviction. + “I am not much of an anarchist,” he now took the trouble to declare, with + a careless lift of his shoulders. “I like fair play, but I shall never + give you much trouble by my manner of insuring it. I have too much at + stake. My invention is dearer to me than the overthrow of present + institutions. Nothing must stand in the way of its success, not even the + satisfaction of inspiring terror in minds shut to every other species of + argument. I have uttered my last speech; you can rely on me for that.” + </p> + <p> + “We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn. Physical overthrow carries more than + the immediate sufferer with it.” + </p> + <p> + If this were meant as an irritant, it did not act successfully. The social + agitator, the political demagogue, the orator whose honeyed tones had rung + with biting invective in the ears of the United Brotherhood of the Awl, + the Plane and the Trowel, simply bowed and calmly waited for the next + attack. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was of a nature to surprise even him. + </p> + <p> + “We have no wish,” continued the Inspector, “to probe too closely into + concerns seemingly quite removed from the main issue. You say that you are + ready, nay more, are even eager to answer all questions. You will probably + be anxious then to explain away a discrepancy between your word and your + conduct, which has come to our attention. You were known to have expressed + the intention of spending the afternoon of Mrs. Spotts’ death in New York + and were supposed to have done so, yet you were certainly seen in the + crowd which invaded that rear building at the first alarm. Are you + conscious of possessing a double, or did you fail to cross the river as + you expected to?” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad this has come up.” The tone was one of self-congratulation + which would have shaken Sweetwater sorely had he been admitted to this + unofficial examination. “I have never confided to any one the story of my + doings on that unhappy afternoon, because I knew of no one who would take + any interest in them. But this is what occurred. I did mean to go to New + York and I even started on my walk to the Bridge at the hour mentioned. + But I got into a small crowd on the corner of Fulton Street, in which a + poor devil who had robbed a vendor’s cart of a few oranges, was being + hustled about. There was no policeman within sight, and so I busied myself + there for a minute paying for the oranges and dragging the poor wretch + away into an alley, where I could have the pleasure of seeing him eat + them. When I came out of the alley the small crowd had vanished, but a big + one was collecting up the street very near my home. I always think of my + books when I see anything suggesting fire, and naturally I returned, and + equally naturally, when I heard what had happened, followed the crowd into + the court and so up to the poor woman’s doorway. But my curiosity + satisfied, I returned at once to the street and went to New York as I had + planned.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind telling us where you went in New York?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I went shopping. I wanted a certain very fine wire, for an + experiment I had on hand, and I found it in a little shop in Fourth + Avenue. If I remember rightly, the name over the door was Grippus. Its + oddity struck me.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing left to the Inspector but to dismiss him. He had + answered all questions willingly, and with a countenance inexpressive of + guile. He even indulged in a parting shot on his own account, as full of + frank acceptance of the situation as it was fearless in its attack. As he + halted in the doorway before turning his back upon the room, he smiled for + the third time as he quietly said: + </p> + <p> + “I have ceased visiting my friend’s apartment in upper New York. If you + ever want me again, you will find me amongst my books. If my invention + halts and other interests stale, you have furnished me this day with a + problem which cannot fail to give continual occupation to my energies. If + I succeed in solving it first, I shall be happy to share my knowledge with + you. Till then, trust the laws of nature. No man when once on the outside + of a door can button it on the inside, nor could any one without the gift + of complete invisibility, make a leap of over fifteen feet from the sill + of a fourth story window on to an adjacent fire escape, without attracting + the attention of some of the many children playing down below.” + </p> + <p> + He was half-way out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the Inspector + drew him back. + </p> + <p> + “Anything more?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The Inspector smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. + Brotherson. You must have decided long ago how this woman died.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that a question, Inspector?” + </p> + <p> + “You may take it as such.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will allow myself to say that there is but one common-sense view + to take of the matter. Miss Challoner’s death was due to suicide; so was + that of the washerwoman. But there I stop. As for the means—the + motive—such mysteries may be within your province but they are + totally outside mine! God help us all! The world is full of misery. Again + I wish you good-day.” + </p> + <p> + The air seemed to have lost its vitality and the sun its sparkle when he + was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what do you think, Gryce?” + </p> + <p> + The old man rose and came out of his corner. + </p> + <p> + “This: that I’m up against the hardest proposition of my lifetime. Nothing + in the man’s appearance or manner evinces guilt, yet I believe him guilty. + I must. Not to, is to strain probability to the point of breakage. But how + to reach him is a problem and one of no ordinary nature. Years ago, when I + was but little older than Sweetwater, I had just such a conviction + concerning a certain man against whom I had even less to work on than we + have here. A murder had been committed by an envenomed spring contained in + a toy puzzle. I worked upon the conscience of the suspect in that case, by + bringing constantly before his eyes a facsimile of that spring. It met him + in the folded napkin which he opened at his restaurant dinner. He stumbled + upon it in the street, and found it lying amongst his papers at home. I + gave him no relief and finally he succumbed. He had been almost driven mad + by remorse. But this man has no conscience. If he is not innocent as the + day, he’s as hard as unquarried marble. He might be confronted with + reminders of his crime at every turn without weakening or showing by loss + of appetite or interrupted sleep any effect upon his nerves. That’s my + opinion of the gentleman. He is either that, or a man of uncommon force + and self-restraint.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m inclined to believe him the latter.” + </p> + <p> + “And so give the whole matter the go-by?” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be a terrible disappointment to Sweetwater.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “And to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s different. I’m disposed to consider you, Gryce—after all + these years.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; I have done the state some service.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want? You say the mine is unworkable.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in a day, or in a week, possibly in a month. But persistence and a + protean adaptability to meet his moods might accomplish something. I don’t + say will, I only say might. If Sweetwater had the job, with unlimited time + in which to carry out any plan he may have, or even for a change of plans + to suit a changed idea, success might be his, and both time, effort and + outlay justified.” + </p> + <p> + “The outlay? I am thinking of the outlay.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Challoner will see to that. I have his word that no reasonable amount + will daunt him.” + </p> + <p> + “But this Brotherson is suspicious. He has an inventor’s secret to hide, + if none other. We can’t saddle him with a guy of Sweetwater’s appearance + and abnormal loquaciousness.” + </p> + <p> + “Not readily, I own. But time will bring counsel. Are you willing to help + the boy, to help me and possibly yourself by this venture in the dark? The + Department shan’t lose money by it; that’s all I can promise.” + </p> + <p> + “But it’s a big one. Gryce, you shall have your way. You’ll be the only + loser if you fail; and you will fail; take my word for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could speak as confidently to the contrary, but I can’t. I can + give you my hand though, Inspector, and Sweetwater’s thanks. I can meet + the boy now. An hour ago I didn’t know how I was to do it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. THAT’S THE QUESTION + </h2> + <p> + “How many times has he seen you?” + </p> + <p> + “Twice.” + </p> + <p> + “So that he knows your face and figure?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him in his + own room.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s unfortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “Damned unfortunate; but one must expect some sort of a handicap in a game + like this. Before I’m done with him, he’ll look me full in the face and + wonder if he’s ever seen me before. I wasn’t always a detective. I was a + carpenter once, as you know, and I’ll take to the tools again. As soon as + I’m handy with them I’ll hunt up lodgings in Hicks Street. He may suspect + me at first, but he won’t long; I’ll be such a confounded good workman. I + only wish I hadn’t such pronounced features. They’ve stood awfully in my + way, Mr. Gryce. I don’t like to talk about my appearance, but I’m so + confounded plain that people remember me. Why couldn’t I have had one of + those putty faces which don’t mean anything? It would have been a deuced + sight more convenient.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve done very well as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “But I want to do better. I want to deceive him to his face. He’s clever, + this same Brotherson, and there’s glory to be got in making a fool of him. + Do you think it could be done with a beard? I’ve never worn a beard. While + I’m settling back into my old trade, I can let the hair grow.” + </p> + <p> + “Do. It’ll make you look as weak as water. It’ll be blonde, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “And silky and straggling. Charming addition to my beauty. But it’ll take + half an inch off my nose, and it’ll cover my mouth, which means a lot in + my case. Then my complexion! It must be changed naturally. I’ll consult a + doctor about that. No sort of make-believe will go with this man. If my + eyes look weak, they must really be so. If I walk slowly and speak + huskily, it must be because I cannot help it. I can bear the slight + inconvenience of temporary ill-health in a cause like this; and if + necessary the cough will be real, and the headache positive. + </p> + <p> + “Sweetwater! We’d better give the task to another man—to someone + Brotherson has never seen and won’t be suspicious of?” + </p> + <p> + “He’ll be suspicious of everybody who tries to make friends with him now; + only a little more so with me; that’s all. But I’ve got to meet that, and + I’ll do it by being, temporarily, of course, exactly the man I seem. My + health will not be good for the next few weeks, I’m sure of that. But I’ll + be a model workman, neat and conscientious with just a suspicion of dash + where dash is needed. He knows the real thing when he sees it, and there’s + not a fellow living more alive to shams. I won’t be a sham. I’ll be it. + You’ll see.” + </p> + <p> + “But the doubt. Can you do all this in doubt of the issue?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I must have confidence in the end, and I must believe in his guilt. + Nothing else will carry me through. I must believe in his guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s essential.” + </p> + <p> + “And I do. I never was surer of anything than I am of that. But I’ll have + the deuce of a time to get evidence enough for a grand jury. That’s + plainly to be seen, and that’s why I’m so dead set on the business. It’s + such an even toss-up.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t call it even. He’s got the start of you every way. You can’t go + to his tenement; the janitor there would recognise you even if he didn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I will give you a piece of good news. They’re to have a new janitor + next week. I learned that yesterday. The present one is too easy. He’ll be + out long before I’m ready to show myself there; and so will the woman who + took care of the poor washerwoman’s little child. I’d not have risked her + curiosity. Luck isn’t all against us. How does Mr. Challoner feel about + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very confident; but willing to give you any amount of rope. + Sweetwater, he let me have a batch of letters written by his daughter + which he found in a secret drawer. They are not to be read, or even + opened, unless a great necessity arises. They were written for + Brotherson’s eye—or so the father says—but she never sent + them; too exuberant perhaps. If you ever want them—I cannot give + them to you to-night, and wouldn’t if I could,—don’t go to Mr. + Challoner—you must never be seen at his hotel—and don’t come + to me, but to the little house in West Twenty-ninth Street, where they + will be kept for you, tied up in a package with your name on it. By the + way, what name are you going to work under?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother’s—Zugg.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I’ll remember. You can always write or even telephone to + Twenty-ninth Street. I’m in constant communication with them there, and + it’s quite safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks. You’re sure the Superintendent is with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not the Inspector. He sees nothing but the victim of a strange + coincidence in Orlando Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + “Again the scales hang even. But they won’t remain so. One side is bound + to rise. Which? That’s the question, Mr. Gryce.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. OPPOSED + </h2> + <p> + There was a new tenant in the Hicks Street tenement. He arrived late one + afternoon and was shown two rooms, one in the rear building and another in + the front one. Both were on the fourth floor. He demurred at the former, + thought it gloomy but finally consented to try it. The other, he said, was + too expensive. The janitor—new to the business—was not much + taken with him and showed it, which seemed to offend the newcomer, who was + evidently an irritable fellow owing to ill health. + </p> + <p> + However, they came to terms as I have said, and the man went away, + promising to send in his belongings the next day. He smiled as he said + this and the janitor who had rarely seen such a change take place in a + human face, looked uncomfortable for a moment and seemed disposed to make + some remark about the room they were leaving. But, thinking better of it, + locked the door and led the way downstairs. As the prospective tenant + followed, he may have noticed, probably did, that the door they had just + left was a new one—the only new thing to be seen in the whole shabby + place. + </p> + <p> + The next night that door was locked on the inside. The young man had taken + possession. As he put away the remnants of a meal he had cooked for + himself, he cast a look at his surroundings, and imperceptibly sighed. + Then he brightened again, and sitting down on his solitary chair, he + turned his eyes on the window which, uncurtained and without shade, stared + open-mouthed, as it were, at the opposite wall rising high across the + court. + </p> + <p> + In that wall, one window only seemed to interest him and that was on a + level with his own. The shade of this window was up, but there was no + light back of it and so nothing of the interior could be seen. But his eye + remained fixed upon it, while his hand, stretched out towards the lamp + burning near him, held itself in readiness to lower the light at a + minute’s notice. + </p> + <p> + Did he see only the opposite wall and that unillumined window? Was there + no memory of the time when, in a previous contemplation of those dismal + panes, he beheld stretching between them and himself, a long, low bench + with a plain wooden tub upon it, from which a dripping cloth beat out upon + the boards beneath a dismal note, monotonous as the ticking of a clock? + </p> + <p> + One might judge that such memories were indeed his, from the rapid glance + he cast behind him at the place where the bed had stood in those days. It + was placed differently now. + </p> + <p> + But if he saw, and if he heard these suggestions from the past, he was not + less alive to the exactions of the present, for, as his glance flew back + across the court, his finger suddenly moved and the flame it controlled + sputtered and went out. At the same instant, the window opposite sprang + into view as the lamp was lit within, and for several minutes the whole + interior remained visible—the books, the work-table, the cluttered + furniture, and, most interesting of all, its owner and occupant. It was + upon the latter that the newcomer fixed his attention, and with an + absorption equal to that he saw expressed in the countenance opposite. + </p> + <p> + But his was the absorption of watchfulness; that of the other of + introspection. Mr. Brotherson—(we will no longer call him Dunn even + here where he is known by no other name)—had entered the room clad + in his heavy overcoat and, not having taken it off before lighting his + lamp, still stood with it on, gazing eagerly down at the model occupying + the place of honour on the large centre table. He was not touching it,—not + at this moment—but that his thoughts were with it, that his whole + mind was concentrated on it, was evident to the watcher across the court; + and, as this watcher took in this fact and noticed the loving care with + which the enthusiastic inventor finally put out his finger to re-arrange a + thread or twirl a wheel, his disappointment found utterance in a sigh + which echoed sadly through the dull and cheerless room. Had he expected + this stern and self-contained man to show an open indifference to work and + the hopes of a lifetime? If so, this was the first of the many surprises + awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + He was gifted, however, with the patience of an automaton and continued to + watch his fellow tenant as long as the latter’s shade remained up. When it + fell, he rose and took a few steps up and down, but not with the celerity + and precision which usually accompanied his movements. Doubt disturbed his + mind and impeded his activity. He had caught a fair glimpse of + Brotherson’s face as he approached the window, and though it continued to + show abstraction, it equally displayed serenity and a complete + satisfaction with the present if not with the future. Had he mistaken his + man after all? Was his instinct, for the first time in his active career, + wholly at fault? + </p> + <p> + He had succeeded in getting a glimpse of his quarry in the privacy of his + own room, at home with his thoughts and unconscious of any espionage, and + how had he found him? Cheerful, and natural in all his movements. + </p> + <p> + But the evening was young. Retrospect comes with later and more lonely + hours. There will be opportunities yet for studying this impassive + countenance under much more telling and productive circumstances than + these. He would await these opportunities with cheerful anticipation. + Meanwhile, he would keep up the routine watch he had planned for this + night. Something might yet occur. At all events he would have exhausted + the situation from this standpoint. + </p> + <p> + And so it came to pass that at an hour when all the other hard-working + people in the building were asleep, or at least striving to sleep, these + two men still sat at their work, one in the light, the other in the + darkness, facing each other, consciously to the one, unconsciously to the + other, across the hollow well of the now silent court. Eleven o’clock! + Twelve! No change on Brotherson’s part or in Brotherson’s room; but a + decided one in the place where Sweetwater sat. Objects which had been + totally indistinguishable even to his penetrating eye could now be seen in + ever brightening outline. The moon had reached the open space above the + court, and he was getting the full benefit of it. But it was a benefit he + would have been glad to dispense with. Darkness was like a shield to him. + He did not feel quite sure that he wanted this shield removed. With no + curtain to the window and no shade, and all this brilliance pouring into + the room, he feared the disclosure of his presence there, or, if not that, + some effect on his own mind of those memories he was more anxious to see + mirrored in another’s discomfiture than in his own. + </p> + <p> + Was it to escape any lack of concentration which these same memories might + bring, that he rose and stepped to the window? Or was it under one of + those involuntary impulses which move us in spite of ourselves to do the + very thing our judgment disapproves? + </p> + <p> + No sooner had he approached the sill than Mr. Brotherson’s shade flew way + up and he, too, looked out. Their glances met, and for an instant the + hardy detective experienced that involuntary stagnation of the blood which + follows an inner shock. He felt that he had been recognised. The moonlight + lay full upon his face, and the other had seen and known him. Else, why + the constrained attitude and sudden rigidity observable in this + confronting figure, with its partially lifted hand? A man like Brotherson + makes no pause in any action however trivial, without a reason. Either he + had been transfixed by this glimpse of his enemy on watch, or daring + thought! had seen enough of sepulchral suggestion in the wan face looking + forth from this fatal window to shake him from his composure and let loose + the grinning devil of remorse from its iron prison-house? If so, the + movement was a memorable one, and the hazard quite worth while. He had + gained—no! he had gained nothing. He had been the fool of his own + wishes. No one, let alone Brotherson, could have mistaken his face for + that of a woman. He had forgotten his newly-grown beard. Some other cause + must be found for the other’s attitude. It savoured of shock, if not fear. + If it were fear, then had he roused an emotion which might rebound upon + himself in sharp reprisal. Death had been known to strike people standing + where he stood; mysterious death of a species quite unrecognisable. What + warranty had he that it would not strike him, and now? None. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was Brotherson who moved first. With a shrug of the shoulder + plainly visible to the man opposite, he turned away from the window and + without lowering the shade began gathering up his papers for the night, + and later banking up his stove with ashes. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater, with a breath of decided relief, stepped back and threw + himself on the bed. It had really been a trial for him to stand there + under the other’s eye, though his mind refused to formulate his fear, or + to give him any satisfaction when he asked himself what there was in the + situation suggestive of death to the woman or harm to himself. + </p> + <p> + Nor did morning light bring counsel, as is usual in similar cases. He felt + the mystery more in the hubbub and restless turmoil of the day than in the + night’s silence and inactivity. He was glad when the stroke of six gave + him an excuse to leave the room, and gladder yet when in doing so, he ran + upon an old woman from a neighbouring room, who no sooner saw him than she + leered at him and eagerly remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Not much sleep, eh? We didn’t think you’d like it. Did you see anything?” + </p> + <p> + Now this gave him the one excuse he wanted. + </p> + <p> + “See anything?” he repeated, apparently with all imaginable innocence. + “What do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know what happened in that room?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t tell me!” he shouted out. “I don’t want to hear any nonsense. I + haven’t time. I’ve got to be at the shop at seven and I don’t feel very + well. What did happen?” he mumbled in drawing off, just loud enough for + the woman to hear. “Something unpleasant I’m sure.” Then he ran + downstairs. + </p> + <p> + At half past six he found the janitor. He was, to all appearance, in a + state of great excitement and he spoke very fast. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t stay another night in that room,” he loudly declared, breaking in + where the family were eating breakfast by lamplight. “I don’t want to make + any trouble and I don’t want to give my reasons; but that room don’t suit + me. I’d rather take the dark one you talked about yesterday. There’s the + money. Have my things moved to-day, will ye?” + </p> + <p> + “But your moving out after one night’s stay will give that room a bad + name,” stammered the janitor, rising awkwardly. “There’ll be talk and I + won’t be able to let that room all winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! Every man hasn’t the nerves I have. You’ll let it in a week. + But let or not let, I’m going front into the little dark room. I’ll get + the boss to let me off at half past four. So that’s settled.” + </p> + <p> + He waited for no reply and got none; but when he appeared promptly at a + quarter to five, he found his few belongings moved into a middle room on + the fourth floor of the front building, which, oddly perhaps, chanced to + be next door to the one he had held under watch the night before. + </p> + <p> + The first page of his adventure in the Hicks Street tenement had been + turned, and he was ready to start upon another. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + </h2> + <p> + When Mr. Brotherson came in that night, he noticed that the door of the + room adjoining his own stood open. He did not hesitate. Making immediately + for it, he took a glance inside, then spoke up with a ringing intonation: + </p> + <p> + “Halloo! coming to live in this hole?” + </p> + <p> + The occupant a young man, evidently a workman and somewhat sickly if one + could judge from his complexion—turned around from some tinkering he + was engaged in and met the intruder fairly, face to face. If his jaw fell, + it seemed to be from admiration. No other emotion would have so lighted + his eye as he took in the others proportions and commanding features. No + dress—Brotherson was never seen in any other than the homeliest garb + in these days—could make him look common or akin to his + surroundings. Whether seen near or far, his presence always caused + surprise, and surprise was what the young man showed, as he answered + briskly: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this is to be my castle. Are you the owner of the buildings? If so—” + </p> + <p> + “I am not the owner. I live next door. Haven’t I seen you before, young + man?” + </p> + <p> + Never was there a more penetrating eye than Orlando Brotherson’s. As he + asked this question it took some effort on the part of the other to hold + his own and laugh with perfect naturalness as he replied: + </p> + <p> + “If you ever go up Henry Street it’s likely enough that you’ve seen me not + once, but many times. I’m the fellow who works at the bench next the + window in Schuper’s repairing shop. Everybody knows me.” + </p> + <p> + Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. Brotherson + stared at the youth, then ventured another question: + </p> + <p> + “A carpenter, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I’m an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It’s my one card of + introduction.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you somewhere else than in Schuper’s shop. Do + you remember me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I’m sorry to be imperlite but I don’t remember you at all. Won’t + you sit down? It’s not very cheerful, but I’m so glad to get out of the + room I was in last night that this looks all right to me. Back there, + other building,” he whispered. “I didn’t know, and took the room which had + a window in it; but—” The stop was significant; so was his smile + which had a touch of sickliness in it, as well as humour. + </p> + <p> + But Brotherson was not to be caught. + </p> + <p> + “You slept in the building last night? In the other half, I mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I—slept.” + </p> + <p> + The strong lip of the other man curled disdainfully. + </p> + <p> + “I saw you,” said he. “You were standing in the window overlooking the + court. You were not sleeping then. I suppose you know that a woman died in + that room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; they told me so this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that the first you’d heard of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure!” The word almost jumped at the questioner. “Do you suppose I’d have + taken the room if—” + </p> + <p> + But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out, + disgust in every feature,—plain, unmistakable, downright disgust, + and nothing more! + </p> + <p> + This was what gave Sweetwater his second bad night; this and a certain + discovery he made. He had counted on hearing what went on in the + neighbouring room through the partition running back of his own closet. + But he could hear nothing, unless it was the shutting down of a window, a + loud sneeze, or the rattling of coals as they were put on the fire. And + these possessed no significance. What he wanted was to catch the secret + sigh, the muttered word, the involuntary movement. He was too far removed + from this man still. + </p> + <p> + How should he manage to get nearer him—at the door of his mind—of + his heart? Sweetwater stared all night from his miserable cot into the + darkness of that separating closet, and with no result. His task looked + hopeless; no wonder that he could get no rest. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he felt ill, but he rose all the same, and tried to get his + own breakfast. He had but partially succeeded and was sitting on the edge + of his bed in wretched discomfort, when the very man he was thinking of + appeared at his door. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve come to see how you are,” said Brotherson. “I noticed that you did + not look well last night. Won’t you come in and share my pot of coffee?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I can’t eat,” mumbled Sweetwater, for once in his life thrown + completely off his balance. “You’re very kind, but I’ll manage all right. + I’d rather. I’m not quite dressed, you see, and I must get to the shop.” + Then he thought—“What an opportunity I’m losing. Have I any right to + turn tail because he plays his game from the outset with trumps? No, I’ve + a small trump somewhere about me to lay on this trick. It isn’t an ace, + but it’ll show I’m not chicane.” And smiling, though not with his usual + cheerfulness, Sweetwater added, “Is the coffee all made? I might take a + drop of that. But you mustn’t ask me to eat—I just couldn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the coffee is made and it isn’t bad either. You’d better put on your + coat; the hall’s draughty.” And waiting till Sweetwater did so, he led the + way back to his own room. Brotherson’s manner expressed perfect ease, + Sweetwater’s not. He knew himself changed in looks, in bearing, in + feeling, even; but was he changed enough to deceive this man on the very + spot where they had confronted each other a few days before in a keen + moral struggle? The looking-glass he passed on his way to the table where + the simple breakfast was spread out, showed him a figure so unlike the + alert, business-like chap he had been that night, that he felt his old + assurance revive in time to ease a situation which had no counterpart in + his experience. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going out myself to-day, so we’ll have to hurry a bit,” was + Brotherson’s first remark as they seated themselves at table. “Do you like + your coffee plain or with milk in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Plain. Gosh! what pictures! Where do you get ‘em? You must have a lot of + coin.” Sweetwater was staring at the row of photographs, mostly of a very + high order, tacked along the wall separating the two rooms. They were + unframed, but they were mostly copies of great pictures, and the effect + was rather imposing in contrast to the shabby furniture and the otherwise + homely fittings. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve enough for that kind of thing,” was his host’s reply. But the + tone was reserved, and Sweetwater did not presume again along this line. + Instead, he looked well at the books piled upon the shelves under these + photographs, and wondered aloud at their number and at the man who could + waste such a lot of time in reading them. But he made no more direct + remarks. Was he cowed by the penetrating eye he encountered whenever he + yielded to the fascination exerted by Mr. Brotherson’s personality and + looked his way? He hated to think so, yet something held him in check and + made him listen, open-mouthed, when the other chose to speak. + </p> + <p> + Yet there was one cheerful moment. It was when he noticed the careless way + in which those books were arranged upon their shelves. An idea had come to + him. He hid his relief in his cup, as he drained the last drops of the + coffee which really tasted better than he had expected. + </p> + <p> + When he returned from work that afternoon it was with an auger under his + coat and a conviction which led him to empty out the contents of a small + phial which he took down from a shelf. He had told Mr. Gryce that he was + eager for the business because of its difficulties, but that was when he + was feeling fine and up to any game which might come his way. Now he felt + weak and easily discouraged. This would not do. He must regain his health + at all hazards, so he poured out the mixture which had given him such a + sickly air. This done and a rude supper eaten, he took up his auger. He + had heard Mr. Brotherson’s step go by. But next minute he laid it down + again in great haste and flung a newspaper over it. Mr. Brotherson was + coming back, had stopped at his door, had knocked and must be let in. + </p> + <p> + “You’re better this evening,” he heard in those kindly tones which so + confused and irritated him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the surly admission. “But it’s stifling here. If I have to live + long in this hole I’ll dry up from want of air. It’s near the shop or I + wouldn’t stay out the week.” Twice this day he had seen Brotherson’s tall + figure stop before the window of this shop and look in at him at his + bench. But he said nothing about that. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” agreed the other, “it’s no way to live. But you’re alone. Upstairs + there’s a whole family huddled into a room just like this. Two of the kids + sleep in the closet. It’s things like that which have made me the friend + of the poor, and the mortal enemy of men and women who spread themselves + over a dozen big rooms and think themselves ill-used if the gas burns + poorly or a fireplace smokes. I’m off for the evening; anything I can do + for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Show me how I can win my way into such rooms as you’ve just talked about. + Nothing less will make me look up. I’d like to sleep in one to-night. In + the best bedroom, sir. I’m ambitious; I am.” + </p> + <p> + A poor joke, though they both laughed. There Mr. Brotherson passed on, and + Sweetwater listened till he was sure that his too attentive neighbour had + really gone down the three flights between him and the street. Then he + took up his auger again and shut himself up in his closet. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing peculiar about this closet. It was just an ordinary one + with drawers and shelves on one side, and an open space on the other for + the hanging up of clothes. Very few clothes hung there at present; but it + was in this portion of the closet that he stopped and began to try the + wall of Brotherson’s room, with the butt end of the tool he carried. + </p> + <p> + The sound seemed to satisfy him, for very soon he was boring a hole at a + point exactly level with his ear; but not without frequent pauses and much + attention given to the possible return of those departed foot-steps. He + remembered that Mr. Brotherson had a way of coming back on unexpected + errands after giving out his intention of being absent for hours. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater did not want to be caught in any such trap as that; so he + carefully followed every sound that reached him from the noisy halls. But + he did not forsake his post; he did not have to. Mr. Brotherson had been + sincere in his good-bye, and the auger finished its job and was withdrawn + without any interruption from the man whose premises had been thus + audaciously invaded. + </p> + <p> + “Neat as well as useful,” was the gay comment with which Sweetwater + surveyed his work, then laid his ear to the hole. Whereas previously he + could barely hear the rattling of coals from the coal-scuttle, he was now + able to catch the sound of an ash falling into the ash-pit. + </p> + <p> + His next move was to test the depth of the partition by inserting his + finger in the hole he had made. He found it stopped by some obstacle + before it had reached half its length, and anxious to satisfy himself of + the nature of this obstacle, he gently moved the tip of his finger to and + fro over what was certainly the edge of a book. + </p> + <p> + This proved that his calculations had been correct and that the opening so + accessible on his side, was completely veiled on the other by the books he + had seen packed on the shelves. As these shelves had no other backing than + the wall, he had feared striking a spot not covered by a book. But he had + not undertaken so risky a piece of work without first noting how nearly + the tops of the books approached the line of the shelf above them, and the + consequent unlikelihood of his striking the space between, at the height + he planned the hole. He had even been careful to assure himself that all + the volumes at this exact point stood far enough forward to afford room + behind them for the chips and plaster he must necessarily push through + with his auger, and also—important consideration—for the free + passage of the sounds by which he hoped to profit. + </p> + <p> + As he listened for a moment longer, and then stooped to gather up the + debris which had fallen on his own side of the partition, he muttered, in + his old self-congratulatory way: + </p> + <p> + “If the devil don’t interfere in some way best known to himself, this + opportunity I have made for myself of listening to this arrogant fellow’s + very heartbeats should give me some clew to his secret. As soon as I can + stand it, I’ll spend my evenings at this hole.” + </p> + <p> + But it was days before he could trust himself so far. Meanwhile their + acquaintance ripened, though with no very satisfactory results. The + detective found himself led into telling stories of his early home-life to + keep pace with the man who always had something of moment and solid + interest to impart. This was undesirable, for instead of calling out a + corresponding confidence from Brotherson, it only seemed to make his + conversation more coldly impersonal. + </p> + <p> + In consequence, Sweetwater suddenly found himself quite well and one + evening, when he was sure that his neighbour was at home, he slid softly + into his closet and laid his ear to the opening he had made there. The + result was unexpected. Mr. Brotherson was pacing the floor, and talking + softly to himself. + </p> + <p> + At first, the cadence and full music of the tones conveyed nothing to our + far from literary detective. The victim of his secret machinations was + expressing himself in words, words;—that was the point which counted + with him. But as he listened longer and gradually took in the sense of + these words, his heart went down lower and lower till it reached his + boots. His inscrutable and ever disappointing neighbour was not indulging + in self-communings of any kind. He was reciting poetry, and what was + worse, poetry which he only half remembered and was trying to recall;—an + incredible occupation for a man weighted with a criminal secret. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater was disgusted, and was withdrawing in high indignation from his + vantage-point when something occurred of a startling enough nature to hold + him where he was in almost breathless expectation. + </p> + <p> + The hole which in the darkness of the closet was always faintly visible, + even when the light was not very strong in the adjoining room, had + suddenly become a bright and shining loop-hole, with a suggestion of + movement in the space beyond. The book which had hid this hole on + Brotherson’s side had been taken down—the one book in all those + hundreds whose removal threatened Sweetwater’s schemes, if not himself. + </p> + <p> + For an instant the thwarted detective listened for the angry shout or the + smothered oath which would naturally follow the discovery by Brotherson of + this attempted interference with his privacy. + </p> + <p> + But all was still on his side of the wall. A rustling of leaves could be + heard, as the inventor searched for the poem he wanted, but nothing more. + In withdrawing the book, he had failed to notice the hole in the plaster + back of it. But he could hardly fail to see it when he came to put the + book back. Meantime, suspense for Sweetwater. + </p> + <p> + It was several minutes before he heard Mr. Brotherson’s voice again, then + it was in triumphant repetition of the lines which had escaped his memory. + They were great words surely and Sweetwater never forgot them, but the + impression which they made upon his mind, an impression so forcible that + he was able to repeat them, months afterward to Mr. Gryce, did not prevent + him from noting the tone in which they were uttered, nor the thud which + followed as the book was thrown down upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” The word rang out in bitter irony from his irate neighbour’s lips. + “What does he know of woman! Woman! Let him court a rich one and see—but + that’s all over and done with. No more harping on that string, and no more + reading of poetry. I’ll never,—” The rest was lost in his throat and + was quite unintelligible to the anxious listener. + </p> + <p> + Self-revealing words, which an instant before would have aroused + Sweetwater’s deepest interest! But they had suddenly lost all force for + the unhappy listener. The sight of that hole still shining brightly before + his eyes had distracted his thoughts and roused his liveliest + apprehensions. If that book should be allowed to lie where it had fallen, + then he was in for a period of uncertainty he shrank from contemplating. + Any moment his neighbour might look up and catch sight of this hole bored + in the backing of the shelves before him. Could the man who had been + guilty of submitting him to this outrage stand the strain of waiting + indefinitely for the moment of discovery? He doubted it, if the suspense + lasted too long. + </p> + <p> + Shifting his position, he placed his eye where his ear had been. He could + see very little. The space before him, limited as it was to the width of + the one volume withdrawn, precluded his seeing aught but what lay directly + before him. Happily, it was in this narrow line of vision that Mr. + Brotherson stood. He had resumed work upon his model and was so placed + that while his face was not visible, his hands were, and as Sweetwater + watched these hands and noticed the delicacy of their manipulation, he was + enough of a workman to realise that work so fine called for an undivided + attention. He need not fear the gaze shifting, while those hands moved as + warily as they did now. + </p> + <p> + Relieved for the moment, he left his post and, sitting down on the edge of + his cot, gave himself up to thought. + </p> + <p> + He deserved this mischance. Had he profited properly by Mr. Gryce’s + teachings, he would not have been caught like this; he would have + calculated not upon the nine hundred and ninety-nine chances of that book + being left alone, but upon the thousandth one of its being the very one to + be singled out and removed. Had he done this,—had he taken pains to + so roughen and discolour the opening he had made, that it would look like + an ancient rat hole instead of showing a clean bore, he would have some + answer to give Brotherson when he came to question him in regard to it. + But now the whole thing seemed up! He had shown himself a fool and by good + rights ought to acknowledge his defeat and return to Headquarters. But he + had too much spirit for that. He would rather—yes, he would rather + face the pistol he had once seen in his enemy’s hand. Yet it was hard to + sit here waiting, waiting—Suddenly he started upright. He would go + meet his fate—be present in the room itself when the discovery was + made which threatened to upset all his plans. He was not ashamed of his + calling, and Brotherson would think twice before attacking him when once + convinced that he had the Department behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, comrade,” were the words with which he endeavoured to account + for his presence at Brotherson’s door. “My lamp smells so, and I’ve made + such a mess of my work to-day that I’ve just stepped in for a chat. If I’m + not wanted, say so. I don’t want to bother you, but you do look pleasant + here. I hope the thing I’m turning over in my head—every man has his + schemes for making a fortune, you know—will be a success some day. + I’d like a big room like this, and a lot of books, and—and + pictures.” + </p> + <p> + Craning his neck, he took a peep at the shelves, with an air of open + admiration which effectually concealed his real purpose. What he wanted + was to catch one glimpse of that empty space from his present standpoint, + and he was both astonished and relieved to note how narrow and + inconspicuous it looked. Certainly, he had less to fear than he supposed, + and when, upon Mr. Brotherson’s invitation, he stepped into the room, it + was with a dash of his former audacity, which gave him, unfortunately, + perhaps, a quick, strong and unexpected likeness to his old self. + </p> + <p> + But if Brotherson noticed this, nothing in his manner gave proof of the + fact. Though usually averse to visitors, especially when employed as at + present on his precious model, he quite warmed towards his unexpected + guest, and even led the way to where it stood uncovered on the table. + </p> + <p> + “You find me at work,” he remarked. “I don’t suppose you understand any + but your own?” + </p> + <p> + “If you mean to ask if I understand what you’re trying to do there, I’m + free to say that I don’t. I couldn’t tell now, off-hand, whether it’s an + air-ship you’re planning, a hydraulic machine or—or—” He + stopped, with a laugh and turned towards the book-shelves. “Now here’s + what I like. These books just take my eye.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at them, then. I like to see a man interested in books. Only, I + thought if you knew how to handle wire, I would get you to hold this end + while I work with the other.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I know enough for that,” was Sweetwater’s gay rejoinder. But when + he felt that communicating wire in his hand and experienced for the first + time the full influence of the other’s eye, it took all his hardihood to + hide the hypnotic thrill it gave him. Though he smiled and chatted, he + could not help asking himself between whiles, what had killed the poor + washerwoman across the court, and what had killed Miss Challoner. + Something visible or something invisible? Something which gave warning of + attack, or something which struck in silence. He found himself gazing long + and earnestly at this man’s hand, and wondering if death lay under it. It + was a strong hand, a deft, clean-cut member, formed to respond to the + slightest hint from the powerful brain controlling it. But was this its + whole story. Had he said all when he had said this? + </p> + <p> + Fascinated by the question, Sweetwater died a hundred deaths in his + awakened fancy, as he followed the sharp short instructions which fell + with cool precision from the other’s lips. A hundred deaths, I say, but + with no betrayal of his folly. The anxiety he showed was that of one eager + to please, which may explain why on the conclusion of his task, Mr. + Brotherson gave him one of his infrequent smiles and remarked, as he + buried the model under its cover, “You’re handy and you’re quiet at your + job. Who knows but that I shall want you again. Will you come if I call + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Won’t I?” was the gay retort, as the detective thus released, stooped for + the book still lying on the floor. “Paolo and Francesca,” he read, from + the back, as he laid it on the table. “Poetry?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Rot,” scornfully returned the other, as he moved to take down a bottle + and some glasses from a cupboard let into another portion of the wall. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater taking advantage of the moment, sidled towards the shelf where + that empty space still gaped with the tell-tale hole at the back. He could + easily have replaced the missing book before Mr. Brotherson turned. But + the issue was too doubtful. He was dealing with no absent-minded fool, and + it behooved him to avoid above all things calling attention to the book or + to the place on the shelf where it belonged. + </p> + <p> + But there was one thing he could do and did. Reaching out a finger as deft + as Brotherson’s own, he pushed a second volume into the place of the one + that was gone. This veiled the auger-hole completely; a fact which so + entirely relieved his mind that his old smile came back like sunshine to + his lips, and it was only by a distinct effort that he kept the dancing + humour from his eyes as he prepared to refuse the glass which Brotherson + now brought forward: + </p> + <p> + “None of that!” said he. “You mustn’t tempt me. The doctor has shut down + on all kinds of spirits for two months more, at least. But don’t let me + hinder you. I can bear to smell the stuff. My turn will come again some + day.” + </p> + <p> + But Brotherson did not drink. Setting down the glass he carried, he took + up the book lying near, weighed it in his hand and laid it down again, + with an air of thoughtful inquiry. Then he suddenly pushed it towards + Sweetwater. “Do you want it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater was too taken aback to answer immediately. This was a move he + did not understand. Want it, he? What he wanted was to see it put back in + its place on the shelf. Did Brotherson suspect this? The supposition was + incredible; yet who could read a mind so mysterious? + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater, debating the subject, decided that the risk of adding to any + such possible suspicion was less to be dreaded than the continued threat + offered by that unoccupied space so near the hole which testified so + unmistakably of the means he had taken to spy upon this suspected man’s + privacy. So, after a moment of awkward silence, not out of keeping with + the character he had assumed, he calmly refused the present as he had the + glass. + </p> + <p> + Unhappily he was not rewarded by seeing the despised volume restored to + its shelf. It still lay where its owner had pushed it, when, with some + awkwardly muttered thanks, the discomfited detective withdrew to his own + room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. WHAT AM I TO DO NOW + </h2> + <p> + Early morning saw Sweetwater peering into the depths of his closet. The + hole was hardly visible. This meant that the book he had pushed across it + from the other side had not been removed. + </p> + <p> + Greatly re-assured by the sight, he awaited his opportunity, and as soon + as a suitable one presented itself, prepared the hole for inspection by + breaking away its edges and begriming it well with plaster and old dirt. + This done, he left matters to arrange themselves; which they did, after + this manner. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brotherson suddenly developed a great need of him, and it became a + common thing for him to spend the half and, sometimes, the whole of the + evening in the neighbouring room. This was just what he had worked for, + and his constant intercourse with the man whose secret he sought to + surprise should have borne fruit. But it did not. Nothing in the eager but + painstaking inventor showed a distracted mind or a heavily-burdened soul. + Indeed, he was so calm in all his ways, so precise and so self-contained, + that Sweetwater often wondered what had become of the fiery agitator and + eloquent propagandist of new and startling doctrines. + </p> + <p> + Then, he thought he understood the riddle. The model was reaching its + completion, and Brotherson’s extreme interest in it and the confidence he + had in its success swallowed up all lesser emotions. Were the invention to + prove a failure—but there was small hope of this. The man was of too + well-poised a mind to over-estimate his work or miscalculate its place + among modern improvements. Soon he would reach the goal of his desires, be + praised, feted, made much of by the very people he now professedly + scorned. There was no thoroughfare for Sweetwater here. Another road must + be found; some secret, strange and unforeseen method of reaching a soul + inaccessible to all ordinary or even extraordinary impressions. + </p> + <p> + Would a night of thought reveal such a method? Night! the very word + brought inspiration. A man is not his full self at night. Secrets which, + under the ordinary circumstances of everyday life, lie too deep for + surprise, creep from their hiding-places in the dismal hours of universal + quiet, and lips which are dumb to the most subtle of questioners break + into strange and self-revealing mutterings when sleep lies heavy on ear + and eye and the forces of life and death are released to play with the + rudderless spirit. + </p> + <p> + It was in different words from these that Sweetwater reasoned, no doubt, + but his conclusions were the same, and as he continued to brood over them, + he saw a chance—a fool’s chance, possibly, (but fools sometimes win + where wise men fail) of reaching those depths he still believed in, + notwithstanding his failure to sound them. + </p> + <p> + Addressing a letter to his friend in Twenty-ninth Street, he awaited reply + in the shape of a small package he had ordered sent to the corner + drug-store. When it came, he carried it home in a state of mingled hope + and misgiving. Was he about to cap his fortnight of disappointment by + another signal failure; end the matter by disclosing his hand; lose all, + or win all by an experiment as daring and possibly as fanciful as were his + continued suspicions of this seemingly upright and undoubtedly busy man? + </p> + <p> + He made no attempt to argue the question. The event called for the + exercise of the most dogged elements in his character and upon these he + must rely. He would make the effort he contemplated, simply because he was + minded to do so. That was all there was to it. But any one noting him well + that night, would have seen that he ate little and consulted his watch + continually. Sweetwater had not yet passed the line where work becomes + routine and the feelings remain totally under control. + </p> + <p> + Brotherson was unusually active and alert that evening. He was anxious to + fit one delicate bit of mechanism into another, and he was continually + interrupted by visitors. Some big event was on in the socialistic world, + and his presence was eagerly demanded by one brotherhood after another. + Sweetwater, posted at his loop-hole, heard the arguments advanced by each + separate spokesman, followed by Brotherson’s unvarying reply: that when + his work was done and he had proved his right to approach them with a + message, they might look to hear from him again; but not before. His + patience was inexhaustible, but he showed himself relieved when the hour + grew too late for further interruption. He began to whistle—a token + that all was going well with him, and Sweetwater, who had come to + understand some of his moods, looked forward to an hour or two of + continuous work on Brotherson’s part and of dreary and impatient waiting + on his own. But, as so many times before, he misread the man. Earlier than + common—much earlier, in fact, Mr. Brotherson laid down his tools and + gave himself up to a restless pacing of the floor. This was not usual with + him. Nor did he often indulge himself in playing on the piano as he did + to-night, beginning with a few heavenly strains and ending with a bang + that made the key-board jump. Certainly something was amiss in the quarter + where peace had hitherto reigned undisturbed. Had the depths begun to + heave, or were physical causes alone responsible for these unwonted + ebullitions of feeling? + </p> + <p> + The question was immaterial. Either would form an excellent preparation + for the coup planned by Sweetwater; and when, after another hour of + uncertainty, perfect silence greeted him from his neighbour’s room, hope + had soared again on exultant wing, far above all former discouragements. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brotherson’s bed was in a remote corner from the loop-hole made by + Sweetwater; but in the stillness now pervading the whole building, the + latter could hear his even breathing very distinctly. He was in a deep + sleep. + </p> + <p> + The young detective’s moment had come. + </p> + <p> + Taking from his breast a small box, he placed it on a shelf close against + the partition. An instant of quiet listening, then he touched a spring in + the side of the box and laid his ear, in haste, to his loop-hole. + </p> + <p> + A strain of well-known music broke softly, from the box and sent its + vibrations through the wall. + </p> + <p> + It was answered instantly by a stir within; then, as the noble air + continued, awakening memories of that fatal instant when it crashed + through the corridors of the Hotel Clermont, drowning Miss Challoner’s cry + if not the sound of her fall, a word burst from the sleeping man’s lips + which carried its own message to the listening detective. + </p> + <p> + It was Edith! Miss Challoner’s first name, and the tone bespoke a shaken + soul. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater, gasping with excitement, caught the box from the shelf and + silenced it. It had done its work and it was no part of Sweetwater’s plan + to have this strain located, or even to be thought real. But its echo + still lingered in Brotherson’s otherwise unconscious ears; for another + “Edith!” escaped his lips, followed by a smothered but forceful utterance + of these five words, “You know I promised you—” + </p> + <p> + Promised her what? He did not say. Would he have done so had the music + lasted a trifle longer? Would he yet complete his sentence? Sweetwater + trembled with eagerness and listened breathlessly for the next sound. + Brotherson was awake. He was tossing in his bed. Now he has leaped to the + floor. Sweetwater hears him groan, then comes another silence, broken at + last by the sound of his body falling back upon the bed and the troubled + ejaculation of “Good God!” wrung from lips no torture could have forced + into complaint under any daytime conditions. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater continued to listen, but he had heard all, and after some few + minutes longer of fruitless waiting, he withdrew from his post. The + episode was over. He would hear no more that night. + </p> + <p> + Was he satisfied? Certainly the event, puerile as it might seem to some, + had opened up strange vistas to his aroused imagination. The words “Edith, + you know I promised you—” were in themselves provocative of strange + and doubtful conjectures. Had the sleeper under the influence of a strain + of music indissolubly associated with the death of Miss Challoner, been so + completely forced back into the circumstances and environment of that + moment that his mind had taken up and his lips repeated the thoughts with + which that moment of horror was charged? Sweetwater imagined the scene—saw + the figure of Brotherson hesitating at the top of the stairs—saw + hers advancing from the writing-room, with startled and uplifted hand—heard + the music—the crash of that great finale—and decided, without + hesitation, that the words he had just heard were indeed the thoughts of + that moment. “Edith, you know I promised you—” What had he promised? + What she received was death! Had this been in his mind? Would this have + been the termination of the sentence had he wakened less soon to + consciousness and caution? + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater dared to believe it. He was no nearer comprehending the mystery + it involved than he had been before, but he felt sure that he had been + given one true and positive glimpse into this harassed soul which showed + its deeply hidden secret to be both deadly and fearsome; and happy to have + won his way so far into the mystic labyrinth he had sworn to pierce, he + rested in happy unconsciousness till morning when— + </p> + <p> + Could it be? Was it he who was dreaming now, or was the event of the night + a mere farce of his own imagining? Mr. Brotherson was whistling in his + room, gaily and with ever increasing verve, and the tune which filled the + whole floor with music was the same grand finale from William Tell which + had seemed to work such magic in the night. As Sweetwater caught the + mellow but indifferent notes sounding from those lips of brass, he dragged + forth the music-box he held hidden in his coat pocket, and flinging it on + the floor stamped upon it. + </p> + <p> + “The man is too strong for me,” he cried. “His heart is granite; he meets + my every move. What am I to do now?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. THE DANGER MOMENT + </h2> + <p> + For a day Sweetwater acknowledged himself to be mentally crushed, + disillusioned and defeated. Then his spirits regained their poise. It + would take a heavy weight indeed to keep them down permanently. + </p> + <p> + His opinion was not changed in regard to his neighbour’s secret guilt. A + demeanour of this sort suggested bravado rather than bravery to the ever + suspicious detective. But he saw, very plainly by this time, that he would + have to employ more subtle methods yet ere his hand would touch the goal + which so tantalisingly eluded him. + </p> + <p> + His work at the bench suffered that week; he made two mistakes. But by + Saturday night he had satisfied himself that he had reached the point + where he would be justified in making use of Miss Challoner’s letters. So + he telephoned his wishes to New York, and awaited the promised + developments with an anxiety we can only understand by realising how much + greater were his chances of failure than of success. To ensure the latter, + every factor in his scheme must work to perfection. The medium of + communication (a young, untried girl) must do her part with all the skill + of artist and author combined. Would she disappoint them? He did not think + so. Women possess a marvellous adaptability for this kind of work and this + one was French, which made the case still more hopeful. + </p> + <p> + But Brotherson! In what spirit would he meet the proposed advances? Would + he even admit the girl, and, if he did, would the interview bear any such + fruit as Sweetwater hoped for? The man who could mock the terrors of the + night by a careless repetition of a strain instinct with the most sacred + memories, was not to be depended upon to show much feeling at sight of a + departed woman’s writing. But no other hope remained, and Sweetwater faced + the attempt with heroic determination. + </p> + <p> + The day was Sunday, which ensured Brotherson’s being at home. Nothing + would have lured Sweetwater out for a moment, though he had no reason to + expect that the affair he was anticipating would come off till early + evening. + </p> + <p> + But it did. Late in the afternoon he heard the expected steps go by his + door—a woman’s steps. But they were not alone. A man’s accompanied + them. What man? Sweetwater hastened to satisfy himself on this point by + laying his ear to the partition. + </p> + <p> + Instantly the whole conversation became audible. “An errand? Oh, yes, I + have an errand!” explained the evidently unwelcome intruder, in her broken + English. “This is my brother Pierre. My name is Celeste; Celeste Ledru. I + understand English ver well. I have worked much in families. But he + understands nothing. He is all French. He accompanies me for—for the—what + you call it? les convenances. He knows nothing of the beesiness.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater in the darkness of his closet laughed in his gleeful + appreciation. + </p> + <p> + “Great!” was his comment. “Just great! She has thought of everything—or + Mr. Gryce has.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the girl was proceeding with increased volubility. + </p> + <p> + “What is this beesiness, monsieur? I have something to sell—so you + Americans speak. Something you will want much—ver sacred, ver + precious. A souvenir from the tomb, monsieur. Will you give ten—no, + that is too leetle—fifteen dollars for it? It is worth—Oh, + more, much more to the true lover. Pierre, tu es bete. Teins-tu droit sur + ta chaise. M. Brotherson est un monsieur comme il faut.” + </p> + <p> + This adjuration, uttered in sharp reprimand and with but little of the + French grace, may or may not have been understood by the unsympathetic man + they were meant to impress. But the name which accompanied them—his + own name, never heard but once before in this house, undoubtedly caused + the silence which almost reached the point of embarrassment, before he + broke it with the harsh remark: + </p> + <p> + “Your French may be good, but it does not go with me. Yet is it more + intelligible than your English. What do you want here? What have you in + that bag you wish to open; and what do you mean by the sentimental trash + with which you offer it?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur has not memory of me,” came in the sweetest tones of a + really seductive voice. “You astonish me, monsieur. I thought you knew—everybody + else does—Oh, tout le monde, monsieur, that I was Miss Challoner’s + maid—near her when other people were not—near her the very day + she died.” + </p> + <p> + A pause; then an angry exclamation from some one. Sweetwater thought from + the brother, who may have misinterpreted some look or gesture on + Brotherson’s part. Brotherson himself would not be apt to show surprise in + any such noisy way. + </p> + <p> + “I saw many things—Oh many things—” the girl proceeded with an + admirable mixture of suggestion and reserve. “That day and other days too. + She did not talk—Oh, no, she did not talk, but I saw—Oh, yes, + I saw that she—that you—I’ll have to say it, monsieur, that + you were tres bons amis after that week in Lenox.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” His utterance of this word was vigorous, but not tender. “What are + you coming to? What can you have to show me in this connection that I will + believe in for a moment?” + </p> + <p> + “I have these—is monsieur certaine that no one can hear? I wouldn’t + have anybody hear what I have to tell you, for the world—for all the + world.” + </p> + <p> + “No one can overhear.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time that day Sweetwater breathed a full, deep breath. This + assurance had sounded heartfelt. “Blessings on her cunning young head. She + thinks of everything.” + </p> + <p> + “You are unhappy. You have thought Miss Challoner cold;—that she had + no response for your ver ardent passion. But—” these words were + uttered sotto voce and with telling pauses “—but—I—know—ver + much better than that. She was ver proud. She had a right; she was no poor + girl like me—but she spend hours—hours in writing letters she—nevaire + send. I saw one, just once, for a leetle minute; while you could breathe + so short as that; and began with Cheri, or your English for that, and + ended with words—Oh, ver much like these: You may nevaire see these + lines, which was ver interesting, veree so, and made one want to see what + she did with letters she wrote and nevaire mail; so I watch and look, and + one day I see them. She had a leetle ivory box—Oh, ver nice, ver + pretty. I thought it was jewels she kept locked up so tight. But, non, + non, non. It was letters—these letters. I heard them rattle, rattle, + not once but many times. You believe me, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you to have taken every advantage possible to spy upon your + mistress. I believe that, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “From interest, monsieur, from great interest.” + </p> + <p> + “Self-interest.” + </p> + <p> + “As monsieur pleases. But it was strange, ver strange for a grande dame + like that to write letters—sheets on sheets—and then not send + them, nevaire. I dreamed of those letters—I could not help it, no; + and when she died so quick—with no word for any one, no word at all, + I thought of those writings so secret, so of the heart, and when no one + noticed—or thought about this box, or—or the key she kept shut + tight, oh, always tight in her leetle gold purse, I—Monsieur, do you + want to see those letters?” asked the girl, with a gulp. Evidently his + appearance frightened her—or had her acting reached this point of + extreme finish? “I had nevaire the chance to put them back. And—and + they belong to monsieur. They are his—all his—and so + beautiful! Ah, just like poetry.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t consider them mine. I haven’t a particle of confidence in you or + in your story. You are a thief—self-convicted; or you’re an agent of + the police whose motives I neither understand nor care to investigate. + Take up your bag and go. I haven’t a cent’s worth of interest in its + contents.” + </p> + <p> + She started to her feet. Sweetwater heard her chair grate on the painted + floor, as she pushed it back in rising. The brother rose too, but more + calmly. Brotherson did not stir. Sweetwater felt his hopes rapidly dying + down—down into ashes, when suddenly her voice broke forth in pants: + </p> + <p> + “And Marie said—everybody said—that you loved our great lady; + that you, of the people, common, common, working with the hands, living + with men and women working with the hands, that you had soul, sentiment—what + you will of the good and the great, and that you would give your eyes for + her words, si fines, si spirituelles, so like des vers de poete. False! + false! all false! She was an angel. You are—read that!” she + vehemently broke in, opening her bag and whisking a paper down before him. + “Read and understand my proud and lovely lady. She did right to die. You + are hard—hard. You would have killed her if she had not—” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, woman! I will read nothing!” came hissing from the strong man’s + teeth, set in almost ungovernable anger. “Take back this letter, as you + call it, and leave my room.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevaire! You will not read? But you shall, you shall. Behold another! + One, two, three, four!” Madly they flew from her hand. Madly she continued + her vituperative attack. “Beast! beast! That she should pour out her + innocent heart to you, you! I do not want your money, Monsieur of the + common street, of the common house. It would be dirt. Pierre, it would be + dirt. Ah, bah! je m’oublie tout a fait. Pierre, il est bete. Il refuse de + les toucher. Mais il faut qu’il les touche, si je les laisse sur le + plancher. Va-t’en! Je me moque de lui. Canaille! L’homme du peuple, tout a + fait du peuple!” + </p> + <p> + A loud slam—the skurrying of feet through the hall, accompanied by + the slower and heavier tread of the so-called brother, then silence, and + such silence that Sweetwater fancied he could catch the sound of + Brotherson’s heavy breathing. His own was silenced to a gasp. What a + treasure of a girl! How natural her indignation! What an instinct she + showed and what comprehension! This high and mighty handling of a most + difficult situation and a most difficult man, had imposed on Brotherson, + had almost imposed upon himself. Those letters so beautiful, so + spirituelle! Yet, the odds were that she had never read them, much less + abstracted them. The minx! the ready, resourceful, wily, daring minx! + </p> + <p> + But had she imposed on Brotherson? As the silence continued, Sweetwater + began to doubt. He understood quite well the importance of his neighbour’s + first movement. Were he to tear those letters into shreds! He might be + thus tempted. All depended on the strength of his present mood and the + real nature of the secret which lay buried in his heart. + </p> + <p> + Was that heart as flinty as it seemed? Was there no place for doubt or + even for curiosity, in its impenetrable depths? Seemingly, he had not + moved foot or hand since his unwelcome visitors had left. He was doubtless + still staring at the scattered sheets lying before him; possibly battling + with unaccustomed impulses; possibly weighing deeds and consequences in + those slow moving scales of his in which no man could cast a weight with + any certainty how far its even balance would be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + There was a sound as of settling coal. Only at night would one expect to + hear so slight a sound as that in a tenement full of noisy children. But + the moment chanced to be propitious, and it not only attracted the + attention of Sweetwater on his side of the wall, but it struck the ear of + Brotherson also. With an ejaculation as bitter as it was impatient, he + roused himself and gathered up the letters. Sweetwater could hear the + successive rustlings as he bundled them up in his hand. Then came another + silence—then the lifting of a stove lid. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater had not been wrong in his secret apprehension. His + identification with his unimpressionable neighbour’s mood had shown him + what to expect. These letters—these innocent and precious + outpourings of a rare and womanly soul—the only conceivable open + sesame to the hard-locked nature he found himself pitted against, would + soon be resolved into a vanishing puff of smoke. + </p> + <p> + But the lid was thrust back, and the letters remained in hand. Mortal + strength has its limits. Even Brotherson could not shut down that lid on + words which might have been meant for him, harshly as he had repelled the + idea. + </p> + <p> + The pause which followed told little; but when Sweetwater heard the man + within move with characteristic energy to the door, turn the key and step + back again to his place at the table, he knew that the danger moment had + passed and that those letters were about to be read, not casually, but + seriously, as indeed their contents merited. + </p> + <p> + This caused Sweetwater to feel serious himself. Upon what result might he + calculate? What would happen to this hardy soul, when the fact he so + scornfully repudiated, was borne in upon him, and he saw that the disdain + which had antagonised him was a mere device—a cloak to hide the + secret heart of love and eager womanly devotion? Her death—little as + Brotherson would believe it up till now—had been his personal loss + the greatest which can befall a man. When he came to see this—when + the modest fervour of her unusual nature began to dawn upon him in these + self-revelations, would the result be remorse, or just the deadening and + final extinction of whatever tenderness he may have retained for her + memory? + </p> + <p> + Impossible to tell. The balance of probability hung even. Sweetwater + recognised this, and clung, breathless, to his loop-hole. Fain would he + have seen, as well as heard. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brotherson read the first letter, standing. As it soon became public + property, I will give it here, just as it afterwards appeared in the + columns of the greedy journals: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Beloved: + + “When I sit, as I often do, in perfect quiet under the stars, + and dream that you are looking at them too, not for hours as I + do, but for one full moment in which your thoughts are with me as + wholly as mine are with you, I feel that the bond between us, + unseen by the world, and possibly not wholly recognised by + ourselves, is instinct with the same power which links together + the eternities. + + “It seems to have always been; to have known no beginning, only a + budding, an efflorescence, the visible product of a hidden but + always present reality. A month ago and I was ignorant, even, of + your name. Now, you seem the best known to me, the best understood, + of God’s creatures. One afternoon of perfect companionship—one + flash of strong emotion, with its deep, true insight into each + other’s soul, and the miracle was wrought. We had met, and + henceforth, parting would mean separation only, and not the + severing of a mutual bond. One hand, and one only, could do that + now. I will not name that hand. For us there is nought ahead but + life. + + “Thus do I ease my heart in the silence which conditions impose + upon us. Some day I shall hear your voice again, and then-” + </pre> + <p> + The paper dropped from the reader’s hand. It was several minutes before he + took up another. + </p> + <p> + This one, as it happened, antedated the other, as will appear on reading + it: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My friend: + + “I said that I could not write to you—that we must wait. You + were willing; but there is much to be accomplished, and the + silence may be long. My father is not an easy man to please, but + he desires my happiness and will listen to my plea when the right + hour comes. When you have won your place—when you have shown + yourself to be the man I feel you to be, then my father will + recognise your worth, and the way will be cleared, despite the + obstacles which now intervene. + + “But meantime! Ah, you will not know it, but words will rise + —the heart must find utterance. What the lip cannot utter, nor + the looks reveal, these pages shall hold in sacred trust for you + till the day when my father will place my hand in yours, with + heart-felt approval. + + “Is it a folly? A woman’s weak evasion of the strong silence of + man? You may say so some day; but somehow, I doubt it—I doubt + it.” + </pre> + <p> + The creaking of a chair;—the man within had seated himself. There + was no other sound; a soul in turmoil wakens no echoes. Sweetwater envied + the walls surrounding the unsympathetic reader. They could see. He could + only listen. + </p> + <p> + A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding sheet. + The following was read, and then the fourth and last: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dearest: + + “Did you think I had never seen you till that day we met in Lenox? + I am going to tell you a secret—a great, great secret—such a + one as a woman hardly whispers to her own heart. + + “One day, in early summer, I was sitting in St. Bartholomew’s + Church on Fifth Avenue, waiting for the services to begin. It + was early and the congregation was assembling. While idly + watching the people coming in, I saw a gentleman pass by me up + the aisle, who made me forget all the others. He had not the + air of a New Yorker; he was not even dressed in city style, but + as I noted his face and expression, I said way down in my heart, + ‘That is the kind of man I could love; the only man I have ever + seen who could make me forget my own world and my own people.’ + It was a passing thought, soon forgotten. But when in that hour + of embarrassment and peril on Greylock Mountain, I looked up into + the face of my rescuer and saw again that countenance which so + short a time before had called into life impulses till then + utterly unknown, I knew that my hour was come. And that was why + my confidence was so spontaneous and my belief in the future so + absolute. + + “I trust your love which will work wonders; and I trust my own, + which sprang at a look but only gathered strength and permanence + when I found that the soul of the man I loved bettered his outward + attractions, making the ideal of my foolish girlhood seem as + unsubstantial and evanescent as a dream in the glowing noontide.” + + “My Own: + + “I can say so now; for you have written to me, and I have the + dancing words with which to silence any unsought doubt which might + subdue the exuberance of these secret outpourings. + + “I did not expect this. I thought that you would remain as silent + as myself. But men’s ways are not our ways. They cannot exhaust + longing in purposeless words on scraps of soulless paper, and I am + glad that they cannot. I love you for your impatience; for your + purpose, and for the manliness which will win for you yet all that + you covet of fame, accomplishment and love. You expect no reply, + but there are ways in which one can keep silent and yet speak. + Won’t you be surprised when your answer comes in a manner you have + never thought of?” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. CONFUSION + </h2> + <p> + In his interest in what was going on on the other side of the wall, + Sweetwater had forgotten himself. Daylight had declined, but in the + darkness of the closet this change had passed unheeded. Night itself might + come, but that should not force him to leave his post so long as his + neighbour remained behind his locked door, brooding over the words of love + and devotion which had come to him, as it were from the other world. + </p> + <p> + But was he brooding? That sound of iron clattering upon iron! That + smothered exclamation and the laugh which ended it! Anger and + determination rang in that laugh. It had a hideous sound which prepared + Sweetwater for the smell which now reached his nostrils. The letters were + burning; this time the lid had been lifted from the stove with unrelenting + purpose. Poor Edith Challoner’s touching words had met, a different fate + from any which she, in her ignorance of this man’s nature,—a nature + to which she had ascribed untold perfections—could possibly have + conceived. + </p> + <p> + As Sweetwater thought of this, he stirred nervously in the darkness, and + broke into silent invective against the man who could so insult the memory + of one who had perished under the blight of his own coldness and + misunderstanding. Then he suddenly started back surprised and + apprehensive. Brotherson had unlocked his door, and was coming rapidly his + way. Sweetwater heard his step in the hall and had hardly time to bound + from his closet, when he saw his own door burst in and found himself face + to face with his redoubtable neighbour, in a state of such rage as few men + could meet without quailing, even were they of his own stature, physical + vigour and prowess; and Sweetwater was a small man. + </p> + <p> + However, disappointment such as he had just experienced brings with it a + desperation which often outdoes courage, and the detective, smiling with + an air of gay surprise, shouted out: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what’s the matter now? Has the machine busted, or tumbled into the + fire or sailed away to lands unknown out of your open window?” + </p> + <p> + “You were coming out of that closet,” was the fierce rejoinder. “What have + you got there? Something which concerns me, or why should your face go + pale at my presence and your forehead drip with sweat? Don’t think that + you’ve deceived me for a moment as to your business here. I recognised you + immediately. You’ve played the stranger well, but you’ve a nose and an eye + nobody could forget. I have known all along that I had a police spy for a + neighbour; but it didn’t faze me. I’ve nothing to conceal, and wouldn’t + mind a regiment of you fellows if you’d only play a straight game. But + when it comes to foisting upon me a parcel of letters to which I have no + right, and then setting a fellow like you to count my groans or whatever + else they expected to hear, I have a right to defend myself, and defend + myself I will, by God! But first, let me be sure that my accusations will + stand. Come into this closet with me. It abuts on the wall of my room and + has its own secret, I know. What is it? I have you at an advantage now, + and you shall tell.” + </p> + <p> + He did have Sweetwater at an advantage, and the detective knew it and + disdained a struggle which would have only called up a crowd, friendly to + the other but inimical to himself. Allowing Brotherson to drag him into + the closet, he stood quiescent, while the determined man who held him with + one hand, felt about with the other over the shelves and along the + partitions till he came to the hole which had offered such a happy means + of communication between the two rooms. Then, with a laugh almost as + bitter in tone as that which rang from Brotherson’s lips, he acknowledged + that business had its necessities and that apologies from him were in + order; adding, as they both stepped out into the rapidly darkening room: + </p> + <p> + “We’ve played a bout, we two; and you’ve come out ahead. Allow me to + congratulate you, Mr. Brotherson. You’ve cleared yourself so far as I am + concerned. I leave this ranch to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The frown had come back to the forehead of the indignant man who + confronted him. + </p> + <p> + “So you listened,” he cried; “listened when you weren’t sneaking under my + eye! A fine occupation for a man who can dove-tail a corner like an adept. + I wish I had let you join the brotherhood you were good enough to mention. + They would know how to appreciate your double gifts and how to reward your + excellence in the one, if not in the other. What did the police expect to + learn about me that they should consider it necessary to call into + exercise such extraordinary talents?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not good at conundrums. I was given a task to perform, and I + performed it,” was Sweetwater’s sturdy reply. Then slowly, with his eye + fixed directly upon his antagonist, “I guess they thought you a man. And + so did I until I heard you burn those letters. Fortunately we have + copies.” + </p> + <p> + “Letters!” Fury thickened the speaker’s voice, and lent a savage gleam to + his eye. “Forgeries! Make believes! Miss Challoner never wrote the drivel + you dare to designate as letters. It was concocted at Police Headquarters. + They made me tell my story and then they found some one who could wield + the poetic pen. I’m obliged to them for the confidence they show in my + credulity. I credit Miss Challoner with such words as have been given me + to read here to-day? I knew the lady, and I know myself. Nothing that + passed between us, not an event in which we were both concerned, has been + forgotten by me, and no feature of our intercourse fits the language you + have ascribed to her. On the contrary, there is a lamentable contradiction + between facts as they were and the fancies you have made her indulge in. + And this, as you must acknowledge, not only proves their falsity, but + exonerates Miss Challoner from all possible charge of sentimentality.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet she certainly wrote those letters. We had them from Mr. Challoner. + The woman who brought them was really her maid. We have not deceived you + in this.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe you.” + </p> + <p> + It was not offensively said; but the conviction it expressed was absolute. + Sweetwater recognised the tone, as one of truth, and inwardly laid down + his arms. He could never like the man; there was too much iron in his + fibre; but he had to acknowledge that as a foe he was invulnerable and + therefore admirable to one who had the good sense to appreciate him. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to believe you.” Thus did Brotherson supplement his former + sentence. “For if I were to attribute those letters to her, I should have + to acknowledge that they were written to another man than myself. And this + would be anything but agreeable to me. Now I am going to my room and to my + work. You may spend the rest of the evening or the whole night, if you + will, listening at that hole. As heretofore, the labour will be all yours, + and the indifference mine.” + </p> + <p> + With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a smile, he + nodded and left the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. A CHANGE + </h2> + <p> + “It’s all up. I’m beaten on my own ground.” Thus confessed Sweetwater, in + great dejection, to himself. “But I’m going to take advantage of the + permission he’s just given me and continue the listening act. Just because + he told me to and just because he thinks I won’t. I’m sure it’s no worse + than to spend hours of restless tossing in bed, trying to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + But our young detective did neither. + </p> + <p> + As he was putting his supper dishes away, a messenger boy knocked at his + door and handed him a note. It was from Mr. Gryce and ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “Steal off, if you can, and as soon as you can, and meet me in + Twenty-ninth Street. A discovery has been made which alters the whole + situation.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXII. O. B. AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + “What’s happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so after this + confounded failure.” + </p> + <p> + “Failure? Didn’t he read the letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he read them. Had to, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t weaken? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn’t weaken. You can’t get water out of a millstone. You may + squeeze and squeeze; but it’s your fingers which suffer, not it. He thinks + we manufactured those letters ourselves on purpose to draw him.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn’t know that it + ran that high.” + </p> + <p> + “He denies everything. Said she would never have written such letters to + him; even goes so far to declare that if she did write them—(he must + be strangely ignorant of her handwriting) they were meant for some other + man than himself. All rot, but—” A hitch of the shoulder conveyed + Sweetwater’s disgust. His uniform good nature was strangely disturbed. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Gryce’s was not. The faint smile with which he smoothed with an + easy, circling movement, the already polished top of his ever present cane + conveyed a secret complacency which called up a flash of discomfiture to + his greatly irritated companion. + </p> + <p> + “He says that, does he? You found him on the whole tolerably + straightforward, eh? A hard nut; but hard nuts are usually sound ones. + Come, now! prejudice aside, what’s your honest opinion of the man you’ve + had under your eye and ear for three solid weeks? Hasn’t there been the + best of reasons for your failure? Speak up, my boy. Squarely, now.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t. I hate the fellow. I hate any one who makes me look ridiculous. + He—well, well, if you’ll have it, sir, I will say this much. If it + weren’t for that blasted coincidence of the two deaths equally mysterious, + equally under his eye, I’d stake my life on his honesty. But that + coincidence stumps me and—and a sort of feeling I have here.” + </p> + <p> + It is to be hoped that the slap he gave his breast, at this point, carried + off some of his superfluous emotion. “You can’t account for a feeling, Mr. + Gryce. The man has no heart. He’s as hard as rocks.” + </p> + <p> + “A not uncommon lack where the head plays so big a part. We can’t hang him + on any such argument as that. You’ve found no evidence against him?” + </p> + <p> + “N—no.” The hesitating admission was only a proof of Sweetwater’s + obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + “Then listen to this. The test with the letters failed, because what he + said about them was true. They were not meant for him. Miss Challoner had + another lover.” + </p> + <p> + “Only another? I thought there were a half-dozen, at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Another whom she favoured. The letters found in her possession—not + the ones she wrote herself, but those which were written to her over the + signature O. B. were not all from the same hand. Experts have been busy + with them for a week, and their reports are unanimous. The O. B. who wrote + the threatening lines acknowledged to by Orlando Brotherson, was not the + O. B. who penned all of those love letters. The similarity in the writing + misled us at first, but once the doubt was raised by Mr. Challoner’s + discovery of an allusion in one of them which pointed to another writer + than Mr. Brotherson, and experts had no difficulty in reaching the + decision I have mentioned.” + </p> + <p> + “Two O. B.s! Isn’t that incredible, Mr. Gryce?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is incredible; but the incredible is not the impossible. The man + you’ve been shadowing denies that these expressive effusions of Miss + Challoner were meant for him. Let us see, then, if we can find the man + they were meant for.” + </p> + <p> + “The second O. B.?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater’s face instantly lit up. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that I—after my egregious failure—am not to be + kept on the dunce’s seat? That you will give me this new job?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We don’t know of a better man. It isn’t your fault, you said it + yourself, that water couldn’t be squeezed out of a millstone.” + </p> + <p> + “The Superintendent—how does he feel about it?” + </p> + <p> + “He was the first one to mention you.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Inspector?” + </p> + <p> + “Is glad to see us on a new tack.” + </p> + <p> + A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective’s eye clouded + over. Presently he remarked: + </p> + <p> + “How will the finding of another O. B. alter Mr. Brotherson’s position? He + still will be the one person on the spot, known to have cherished a + grievance against the victim of this mysterious killing. To my mind, this + discovery of a more favoured rival, brings in an element of motive which + may rob our self-reliant friend of some of his complacency. We may + further, rather than destroy, our case against Brotherson by locating a + second O.B.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce’s eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “That won’t make your task any more irksome,” he smiled. “The loop we thus + throw out is as likely to catch Brotherson as his rival. It all depends + upon the sort of man we find in this second O. B.; and whether, in some + way unknown to us, he gave her cause for the sudden and overwhelming rush + of despair which alone supports this general theory of suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “The prospect grows pleasing. Where am I to look for my man?” + </p> + <p> + “Your ticket is bought to Derby, Pennsylvania. If he is not employed in + the great factories there, we do not know where to find him. We have no + other clew.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. It’s a short journey I have before me.” + </p> + <p> + “It’ll bring the colour to your cheeks.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m not kicking.” + </p> + <p> + “You will start to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Wish it were to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will first inquire, not for O. B., that’s too indefinite; but for + a young girl by the name of Doris Scott. She holds the clew; or rather she + is the clew to this second O. B.” + </p> + <p> + “Another woman!” + </p> + <p> + “No, a child;—well, I won’t say child exactly; she must be sixteen.” + </p> + <p> + “Doris Scott.” + </p> + <p> + “She lives in Derby. Derby is a small place. You will have no trouble in + finding this child. It was to her Miss Challoner’s last letter was + addressed. The one—” + </p> + <p> + “I begin to see.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don’t, Sweetwater. The affair is as blind as your hat; nobody + sees. We’re just feeling along a thread. O. B.‘s letters—the real O. + B., I mean, are the manliest effusions possible. He’s no more of a milksop + than this Brotherson; and unlike your indomitable friend he seems to have + some heart. I only wish he’d given us some facts; they would have been + serviceable. But the letters reveal nothing except that he knew Doris. He + writes in one of them: ‘Doris is learning to embroider. It’s like a fairy + weaving a cobweb!’ Doris isn’t a very common name. She must be the same + little girl to whom Miss Challoner wrote from time to time.” + </p> + <p> + “Was this letter signed O. B.?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; they all are. The only difference between his letters and + Brotherson’s is this: Brotherson’s retain the date and address; the second + O. B.‘s do not.” + </p> + <p> + “How not? Torn off, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, or rather, neatly cut away; and as none of the envelopes were kept, + the only means by which we can locate the writer is through this girl + Doris.” + </p> + <p> + “If I remember rightly Miss Challoner’s letter to this child was free from + all mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so. It is as open as the day. That is why it has been mentioned as + showing the freedom of Miss Challoner’s mind five minutes before that + fatal thrust.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and re-read + these lines: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear Little Doris: + + “It is a snowy night, but it is all bright inside and I feel no + chill in mind or body. I hope it is so in the little cottage in + Derby; that my little friend is as happy with harsh winds blowing + from the mountains as she was on the summer day she came to see + me at this hotel. I like to think of her as cheerful and beaming, + rejoicing in tasks which make her so womanly and sweet. She is + often, often in my mind. + + “Affectionately your friend, + “EDITH A. CHALLONER.” + </pre> + <p> + “That to a child of sixteen!” + </p> + <p> + “Just so.” + </p> + <p> + “D-o-r-i-s spells something besides Doris.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet there is a Doris. Remember that O. B. says in one of his letters, + ‘Doris is learning to embroider.’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember that.” + </p> + <p> + “So you must first find Doris.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And as Miss Challoner’s letter was directed to Derby, Pennsylvania, you + will go to Derby.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything more?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been reading this letter again.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s worth it.” + </p> + <p> + “The last sentence expresses a hope.” + </p> + <p> + “That has been noted.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater’s eyes slowly rose till they rested on Mr. Gryce’s face: “I’ll + cling to the thread you’ve given me. I’ll work myself through the + labyrinth before us till I reach HIM.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gryce smiled; but there was more age, wisdom and sympathy for youthful + enthusiasm in that smile than there was confidence or hope. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III. THE HEART OF MAN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIII. DORIS + </h2> + <p> + “A young girl named Doris Scott?” + </p> + <p> + The station-master looked somewhat sharply at the man he was addressing, + and decided to give the direction asked. + </p> + <p> + “There is but one young girl in town of that name,” he declared, “and she + lives in that little house you see just beyond the works. But let me tell + you, stranger,” he went on with some precipitation— + </p> + <p> + But here he was called off, and Sweetwater lost the conclusion of his + warning, if warning it was meant to be. This did not trouble the + detective. He stood a moment, taking in the prospect; decided that the + Works and the Works alone made the town, and started for the house which + had been pointed out to him. His way lay through the chief business + street, and greatly preoccupied by his errand, he gave but a passing + glance to the rows on rows of workmen’s dwellings stretching away to the + left in seemingly endless perspective. Yet in that glance he certainly + took in the fact that the sidewalks were blocked with people and wondered + if it were a holiday. If so, it must be an enforced one, for the faces + showed little joy. Possibly a strike was on. The anxiety he everywhere saw + pictured on young faces and old, argued some trouble; but if the trouble + was that, why were all heads turned indifferently from the Works, and why + were the Works themselves in full blast? + </p> + <p> + These questions he may have asked himself and he may not. His attention + was entirely centred on the house he saw before him and on the possible + developments awaiting him there. Nothing else mattered. Briskly he stepped + out along the sandy road, and after a turn or two which led him quite away + from the Works and its surrounding buildings, he came out upon the highway + and this house. + </p> + <p> + It was a low and unpretentious one, and had but one distinguishing + feature. The porch which hung well over the doorstep was unique in shape + and gave an air of picturesqueness to an otherwise simple exterior; a + picturesqueness which was much enhanced in its effect by the background of + illimitable forest, which united the foreground of this pleasing picture + with the great chain of hills which held the Works and town in its ample + basin. + </p> + <p> + As he approached the doorstep, his mind involuntarily formed an + anticipatory image of the child whose first stitches in embroidery were + like a fairy’s weaving to the strong man who worked in ore and possibly + figured out bridges. That she would prove to be of the anemic type, common + among working girls gifted with an imagination they have but scant + opportunity to exercise, he had little doubt. + </p> + <p> + He was therefore greatly taken aback, when at his first step upon the + porch, the door before him flew open and he beheld in the dark recess + beyond a young woman of such bright and blooming beauty that he hardly + noticed her expression of extreme anxiety, till she lifted her hand and + laid an admonitory finger softly on her lip: + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” she whispered, with an earnestness which roused him from his + absorption and restored him to the full meaning of this encounter. “There + is sickness in the house and we are very anxious. Is your errand an + important one? If not—” The faltering break in the fresh, young + voice, the look she cast behind her into the darkened interior, were + eloquent with the hope that he would recognise her impatience and pass on. + </p> + <p> + And so he might have done,—so he would have done under all ordinary + circumstances. But if this was Doris—and he did not doubt the fact + after the first moment of startled surprise—how dare he forego this + opportunity of settling the question which had brought him here. + </p> + <p> + With a slight stammer but otherwise giving no evidence of the effect made + upon him by the passionate intensity with which she had urged this plea, + he assured her that his errand was important, but one so quickly told that + it would delay her but a moment. “But first,” said he, with very natural + caution, “let me make sure that it is to Miss Doris Scott I am speaking. + My errand is to her and her only.” + </p> + <p> + Without showing any surprise, perhaps too engrossed in her own thoughts to + feel any, she answered with simple directness, “Yes, I am Doris Scott.” + Whereupon he became his most persuasive self, and pulling out a folded + paper from his pocket, opened it and held it before her, with these words: + </p> + <p> + “Then will you be so good as to glance at this letter and tell me if the + person whose initials you will find at the bottom happens to be in town at + the present moment?” + </p> + <p> + In some astonishment now, she glanced down at the sheet thus boldly thrust + before her, and recognising the O and the B of a well-known signature, she + flashed a look back at Sweetwater in which he read a confusion of emotions + for which he was hardly prepared. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” thought he, “it’s coming. In another moment I shall hear what will + repay me for the trials and disappointments of all these months.” + </p> + <p> + But the moment passed and he had heard nothing. Instead, she dropped her + hands from the door-jamb and gave such unmistakable evidences of intended + flight, that but one alternative remained to him; he became abrupt. + </p> + <p> + Thrusting the paper still nearer, he said, with an emphasis which could + not fail of making an impression, “Read it. Read the whole letter. You + will find your name there. This communication was addressed to Miss + Challoner, but—” + </p> + <p> + Oh, now she found words! With a low cry, she put out her hand in quick + entreaty, begging him to desist and not speak that name on any pretext or + for any purpose. “He may rouse and hear,” she explained, with another + quick look behind her. “The doctor says that this is the critical day. He + may become conscious any minute. If he should and were to hear that name, + it might kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “He!” Sweetwater perked up his ears. “Who do you mean by he?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson, my patient, he whose letter—” But here her + impatience rose above every other consideration. Without attempting to + finish her sentence, or yielding in the least to her curiosity or interest + in this man’s errand, she cried out with smothered intensity, “Go! go! I + cannot stay another moment from his bedside.” + </p> + <p> + But a thunderbolt could not have moved Sweetwater after the hearing of + that name. “Mr. Brotherson!” he echoed. “Brotherson! Not Orlando?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; his name is Oswald. He’s the manager of these Works. He’s sick + with typhoid. We are caring for him. If you belonged here you would know + that much. There! that’s his voice you hear. Go, if you have any mercy.” + And she began to push to the door. + </p> + <p> + But Sweetwater was impervious to all hint. With eager eyes straining into + the shadowy depths just visible over her shoulder, he listened eagerly for + the disjointed words now plainly to be heard in some near-by but unseen + chamber. + </p> + <p> + “The second O. B.!” he inwardly declared. “And he’s a Brotherson also, and—sick! + Miss Scott,” he whisperingly entreated as her hand fell in manifest + despair from the door, “don’t send me away yet. I’ve a question of the + greatest importance to put you, and one minute more cannot make any + difference to him. Listen! those cries are the cries of delirium; he + cannot miss you; he’s not even conscious.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s calling out in his sleep. He’s calling her, just as he has called + for the last two weeks. But he will wake conscious—or he will not + wake at all.” + </p> + <p> + The anguish trembling in that latter phrase would have attracted + Sweetwater’s earnest, if not pitiful, attention at any other time, but now + he had ears only for the cry which at that moment came ringing shrilly + from within— + </p> + <p> + “Edith! Edith!” + </p> + <p> + The living shouting for the dead! A heart still warm sending forth its + longing to the pierced and pulseless one, hidden in a far-off tomb! To + Sweetwater, who had seen Miss Challoner buried, this summons of distracted + love came with weird force. + </p> + <p> + Then the present regained its sway. He heard her name again, and this time + it sounded less like a call and more like the welcoming cry of meeting + spirits. Was death to end this separation? Had he found the true O. B., + only to behold another and final seal fall upon this closely folded + mystery? In his fear of this possibility, he caught at Doris’ hand as she + was about to bound away, and eagerly asked: + </p> + <p> + “When was Mr. Brotherson taken ill? Tell me, I entreat you; the exact day + and, if you can, the exact hour. More depends upon this than you can + readily realise.” + </p> + <p> + She wrenched her hand from his, panting with impatience and a vague alarm. + But she answered him distinctly: + </p> + <p> + “On the Twenty-fifth of last month, just an hour after he was made + manager. He fell in a faint at the Works.” + </p> + <p> + The day—the very day of Miss Challoner’s death! + </p> + <p> + “Had he heard—did you tell him then or afterwards what happened in + New York on that very date?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, we have not told him. It would have killed him—and may + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith! Edith!” came again through the hush, a hush so deep that + Sweetwater received the impression that the house was empty save for + patient and nurse. + </p> + <p> + This discovery had its effects upon him. Why should he subject this young + and loving girl to further pain? He had already learned more than he had + expected to. The rest would come with time. But at the first intimation he + gave of leaving, she lost her abstracted air and turned with absolute + eagerness towards him. + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said she. “You are a stranger and I do not know your name or + your purpose here. But I cannot let you go without begging you not to + mention to any one in this town that Mr. Brotherson has any interest in + the lady whose name we must not speak. Do not repeat that delirious cry + you have heard or betray in any way our intense and fearful interest in + this young lady’s strange death. You have shown me a letter. Do not speak + of that letter, I entreat you. Help us to retain our secret a little + longer. Only the doctor and myself know what awaits Mr. Brotherson if he + lives. I had to tell the doctor, but a doctor reveals nothing. Promise + that you will not either, at least till this crisis is passed. It will + help my father and it will help me; and we need all the help we can get.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater allowed himself one minute of thought, then he earnestly + replied: + </p> + <p> + “I will keep your secret for to-day, and longer, if possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she cried; “thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your + face.” And she again prepared to close the door. + </p> + <p> + But Sweetwater had one more question to ask. “Pardon me,” said he, as he + stepped down on the walk, “you say that this is a critical day with your + patient. Is that why every one whom I have seen so far wears such a look + of anxiety?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” she cried, giving him one other glimpse of her lovely, + agitated face. “There’s but one feeling in town to-day, but one hope, and, + as I believe, but one prayer. That the man whom every one loves and every + one trusts may live to run these Works.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith! Edith!” rose in ceaseless reiteration from within. + </p> + <p> + But it rang but faintly now in the ears of our detective. The door had + fallen to, and Sweetwater’s share in the anxieties of that household was + over. + </p> + <p> + Slowly he moved away. He was in a confused yet elated condition of mind. + Here was food for a thousand new thoughts and conjectures. An Orlando + Brotherson and an Oswald Brotherson—relatives possibly, strangers + possibly; but whether relatives or strangers, both given to signing their + letters with their initials simply; and both the acknowledged admirers of + the deceased Miss Challoner. But she had loved only one, and that one, + Oswald. It not difficult to recognise the object of this high hearted + woman’s affections in this man whose struggle with the master-destroyer + had awakened the solicitude of a whole town. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIV. SUSPENSE + </h2> + <p> + Ten minutes after Sweetwater’s arrival in the village streets, he was at + home with the people he found there. His conversation with Doris in the + doorway of her home had been observed by the curious and far-sighted, and + the questions asked and answered had made him friends at once. Of course, + he could tell them nothing, but that did not matter, he had seen and + talked with Doris and their idolised young manager was no worse and might + possibly soon be better. + </p> + <p> + Of his own affairs—of his business with Doris and the manager, they + asked nothing. All ordinary interests were lost in the stress of their + great suspense. + </p> + <p> + It was the same in the bar-room of the one hotel. Without resorting to + more than a question or two, he readily learned all that was generally + known of Oswald Brotherson. Every one was talking about him, and each had + some story to tell illustrative of his kindness, his courage and his quick + mind. The Works had never produced a man of such varied capabilities and + all round sympathies. To have him for manager meant the greatest good + which could befall this little community. + </p> + <p> + His rise had been rapid. He had come from the east three years before, new + to the work. Now, he was the one man there. Of his relationships east, + family or otherwise, nothing was said. For them his life began and ended + in Derby, and Sweetwater could see, though no actual expression was given + to the feeling, that there was but one expectation in regard to him and + Doris, to whose uncommon beauty and sweetness they all seemed fully alive. + And Sweetwater wondered, as many of us have wondered, at the gulf + frequently existing between fancy and fact. + </p> + <p> + Later there came a small excitement. The doctor was seen riding by on his + way to the sick man. From the window where he sat, Sweetwater watched him + pass up the street and take the road he had himself so lately traversed. + It was so straight a one and led so directly northward that he could + follow with his eye the doctor’s whole course, and even get a glimpse of + his figure as he stepped from the buggy and proceeded to tie up the horse. + There was an energy about him pleasing to Sweetwater. He might have much + to do with this doctor. If Oswald Brotherson died—but he was not + willing to consider this possibility—yet. His personal sympathies, + to say nothing of his professional interest in the mystery to which this + man—and this man only—possibly held the key, alike forbade. He + would hope, as these others were hoping, and if he did not count the + minutes, he at least saw every move of the old horse waiting with drooping + head and the resignation of long custom for the re-appearance of his + master with his news of life or death. + </p> + <p> + And so an hour—two hours passed. Others were watching the old horse + now. The street showed many an eager figure with head turned northward. + From the open door-ways women stepped, looked in the direction of their + anxiety and retreated to their work again. Suspense was everywhere; the + moments dragged like hours; it became so keen at last that some impatient + hearts could no longer stand it. A woman put her baby into another woman’s + arms and hurried up the road; another followed, then another; then an old + man, bowed with years and of tottering steps, began to go that way, + halting a dozen times before he reached the group now collected in the + dusty highway, near but not too near that house. As Sweetwater’s own + enthusiasm swelled at this sight, he thought of the other Brotherson with + his theories and active advocacy for reform, and wondered if men and women + would forego their meals and stand for hours in the keen spring wind just + to be the first to hear if he were to live or die. He knew that he himself + would not. But he had suffered much both in his pride and his purse at the + hands of the Brooklyn inventor; and such despoliation is not a reliable + basis for sympathy. He was questioning his own judgment in this matter and + losing himself in the mazes of past doubts and conjectures when a sudden + change took place in the aspect of the street; he saw people running, and + in another moment saw why. The doctor had shown himself on the porch which + all were watching. Was he coming out? No, he stands quite still, runs his + eye over the people waiting quietly in the road, and beckons to one of the + smaller boys. The child, with upturned face, stands listening to what he + has to say, then starts on a run for the village. He is stopped, pulled + about, questioned, and allowed to run on. Many rush forth to meet him. He + is panting, but gleeful. Mr. Brotherson has waked up conscious, and the + doctor says, HE WILL LIVE. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXV. THE OVAL HUT + </h2> + <p> + That night Dr. Fenton had a visitor. We know that visitor and we almost + know what his questions were, if not the answers of the good doctor. + Nevertheless, it may be better to listen to a part at least of their + conversation. Sweetwater, who knew when to be frank and open, as well as + when to be reserved and ambiguous, made no effort to disguise the nature + of his business or his chief cause of interest in Oswald Brotherson. The + eye which met his was too penetrating not to detect the smallest attempt + at subterfuge; besides, Sweetwater had no need to hide his errand; it was + one of peace, and it threatened nobody—“the more’s the pity,” + thought he in uneasy comment to himself, as he realised the hopelessness + of the whole situation. + </p> + <p> + His first word, therefore, was a plain announcement. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Fenton, my name is Sweetwater. I am from New York, and represent for + the nonce, Mr. Challoner, whose name I have simply to mention, for you to + understand that my business is with Mr. Brotherson whom I am sorry to find + seriously, if not dangerously, ill. Will you tell me how long you think it + will be before I can have a talk with him on a subject which I will not + disguise from you may prove a very exciting one?” + </p> + <p> + “Weeks, weeks,” returned the doctor. “Mr. Brotherson has been a very sick + man and the only hope I have of his recovery is the fact that he is + ignorant of his trouble or that he has any cause for doubt or dread. Were + this happy condition of things to be disturbed,—were the faintest + rumour of sorrow or disaster to reach him in his present weakened state, I + should fear a relapse, with all its attendant dangers. What then, if any + intimation should be given him of the horrible tragedy suggested by the + name you have mentioned? The man would die before your eyes. Mr. + Challoner’s business will have to wait.” + </p> + <p> + “That I see; but if I knew when I might speak—” + </p> + <p> + “I can give you no date. Typhoid is a treacherous complaint; he has the + best of nurses and the chances are in favour of a quick recovery; but we + never can be sure. You had better return to New York. Later, you can write + me if you wish, or Mr. Challoner can. You may have confidence in my reply; + it will not mislead you.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater muttered his thanks and rose. Then he slowly sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Fenton,” he began, “you are a man to be trusted. I’m in a devil of a + fix, and there is just a possibility that you may be able to help me out. + It is the general opinion in New York, as you may know, that Miss + Challoner committed suicide. But the circumstances do not fully bear out + this theory, nor can Mr. Challoner be made to accept it. Indeed, he is so + convinced of its falsehood, that he stands ready to do anything, pay + anything, suffer anything, to have this distressing blight removed from + his daughter’s good name. Mr. Brotherson was her dearest friend, and as + such may have the clew to this mystery, but Mr. Brotherson may not be in a + condition to speak for several weeks. Meanwhile, Mr. Challoner must suffer + from great suspense unless—” a pause during which he searched the + doctor’s face with a perfectly frank and inquiring expression—“unless + some one else can help us out. Dr. Fenton, can you?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor did not need to speak; his expression conveyed his answer. + </p> + <p> + “No more than another,” said he. “Except for what Doris felt compelled to + tell me, I know as little as yourself. Mr. Brotherson’s delirium took the + form of calling continually upon one name. I did not know this name, but + Doris did, also the danger lurking in the fact that he had yet to hear of + the tragedy which had robbed him of this woman to whom he was so deeply + attached. So she told me just this much. That the Edith whose name rung so + continuously in our ears was no other than the Miss Challoner of New York + of whose death and its tragic circumstances the papers have been full; + that their engagement was a secret one unshared so far as she knew by any + one but herself. That she begged me to preserve this secret and to give + her all the help I could when the time came for him to ask questions. + Especially did she entreat me to be with her at the crisis. I was, but his + waking was quite natural. He did not ask for Miss Challoner; he only + inquired how long he had been ill and whether Doris had received a letter + during that time. She had not received one, a fact which seemed to + disappoint him; but she carried it off so gaily (she is a wonderful girl, + Mr. Sweetwater—the darling of all our hearts), saying that he must + not be so egotistical as to think that the news of his illness had gone + beyond Derby, that he soon recovered his spirits and became a very + promising convalescent. That is all I know about the matter; little more, + I take it, than you know yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater nodded; he had expected nothing from the doctor, and was not + disappointed at his failure. There were two strings to his bow, and the + one proving valueless, he proceeded to test the other. + </p> + <p> + “You have mentioned Miss Scott, as the confidante—and only + confidante of this unhappy pair,” said he. “Would it be possible—can + you make it possible for me to see her?” + </p> + <p> + It was a daring proposition; he understood this at once from the doctor’s + expression; and, fearing a hasty rebuff, he proceeded to supplement his + request with a few added arguments, urged with such unexpected address and + show of reason that Dr. Fenton’s aspect visibly softened and in the end he + found himself ready to promise that he would do what he could to secure + his visitor the interview he desired if he would come to the house the + next day at the time of his own morning visit. + </p> + <p> + This was as much as the young detective could expect, and having expressed + his thanks, he took his leave in anything but a discontented frame of + mind. With so powerful an advocate as the doctor, he felt confident that + he should soon be able to conquer this young girl’s reticence and learn + all that was to be learned from any one but Mr. Brotherson himself. In the + time which must elapse between that happy hour and the present, he would + circulate and learn what he could about the prospective manager. But he + soon found that he could not enter the Works without a permit, and this he + was hardly in a position to demand; so he strolled about the village + instead, and later wandered away into the forest. + </p> + <p> + Struck by the inviting aspect of a narrow and little used road opening + from the highway shortly above the house where his interests were just + then centred, he strolled into the heart of the spring woods till he came + to a depression where a surprise awaited him, in the shape of a peculiar + structure rising from its midst where it just fitted, or so nearly fitted + that one could hardly walk about it without brushing the surrounding tree + trunks. Of an oval shape, with its door facing the approach, it nestled + there, a wonder to the eye and the occasion of considerable speculation to + his inquiring mind. It had not been long built, as was shown very plainly + by the fresh appearance of the unpainted boards of which it was + constructed; and while it boasted of a door, as I’ve already said, there + were no evidences visible of any other break in the smooth, neatly + finished walls. A wooden ellipse with a roof but no windows; such it + appeared and such it proved to be. A mystery to Sweetwater’s eyes, and + like all mysteries, interesting. For what purpose had it been built and + why this isolation? It was too flimsy for a reservoir and too expensive + for the wild freak of a crank. + </p> + <p> + A nearer view increased his curiosity. In the projection of the roof over + the curving sides he found fresh food for inquiry. As he examined it in + the walk he made around the whole structure, he came to a place where + something like a hinge became visible and further on another. The roof was + not simply a roof; it was also a lid capable of being raised for the air + and light which the lack of windows necessitated. This was an odd + discovery indeed, giving to the uncanny structure the appearance of a huge + box, the cover of which could be raised or lowered at pleasure. And again + he asked himself for what it could be intended? What enterprise, even of + the great Works, could demand a secrecy so absolute that such pains as + these should be taken to shut out all possibility of a prying eye. Nothing + in his experience supplied him with an answer. + </p> + <p> + He was still looking up at these hinges, with a glance which took in at + the same time the nearness and extreme height of the trees by which this + sylvan mystery was surrounded, when a sound from the road on the opposite + side of the hollow brought his conjectures to a standstill and sent him + hurrying on to the nearest point from which that road became visible. + </p> + <p> + A team was approaching. He could hear the heavy tread of horses working + their laborious way through trees whose obstructing branches swished + before and behind them. They were bringing in a load for this shed, whose + uses he would consequently soon understand. Grateful for his good luck—for + his was a curiosity which could not stand defeat—he took a few steps + into the wood, and from the vantage point of a concealing cluster of + bushes, fixed his eyes upon the spot where the road opened into the + hollow. + </p> + <p> + Something blue moved there, and in another moment, to his great amazement, + there stepped into view the spirited form of Doris Scott, who if he had + given the matter a thought he would have supposed to be sitting just then + by the bedside of her patient, a half mile back on the road. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed for the woods in a blue skirt and jacket and moved like a + leader in front of a heavily laden wagon now coming to a standstill before + the closely shut shed—if such we may call it. + </p> + <p> + “I have a key,” so she called out to the driver who had paused for orders. + “When I swing the doors wide, drive straight in.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater took a look at the wagon. It was piled high with large wooden + boxes on more than one of which he could see scrawled the words: O. + Brotherson, Derby, Pa. + </p> + <p> + This explained her presence, but the boxes told nothing. They were of all + sizes and shapes, and some of them so large that the assistance of another + man was needed to handle them. Sweetwater was about to offer his services + when a second man appeared from somewhere in the rear, and the detective’s + attention being thus released from the load out of which he could make + nothing, he allowed it to concentrate upon the young girl who had it in + charge and who, for many reasons, was the one person of supreme importance + to him. + </p> + <p> + She had swung open the two wide doors, and now stood waiting for horse and + wagon to enter. With locks flying free—she wore no bonnet—she + presented a picture of ever increasing interest to Sweetwater. Truly she + was a very beautiful girl, buoyant, healthy and sweet; as unlike as + possible his preconceived notions of Miss Challoner’s humble little + protegee. Her brown hair of a rich chestnut hue, was in itself a wonder. + On no head, even in the great city he had just left, had he seen such + abundance, held in such modest restraint. Nature had been partial to this + little working girl and given her the chevelure of a queen. + </p> + <p> + But this was nothing. No one saw this aureole when once the eye had rested + on her features and caught the full nobility of their expression and the + lurking sweetness underlying her every look. She herself made the charm + and whether placed high or placed low, must ever attract the eye and + afterwards lure the heart, by an individuality which hardly needed perfect + features in which to express itself. + </p> + <p> + Young yet, but gifted, as girls of her class often are, with the nicest + instincts and purest aspirations, she showed the elevation of her thoughts + both in her glance and the poise with which she awaited events. Sweetwater + watched her with admiration as she superintended the unloading of the + wagon and the disposal of the various boxes on the floor within; but as + nothing she said during the process was calculated to afford the least + enlightenment in regard to their contents, he presently wearied of his + inaction and turned back towards the highway, comforting himself with the + reflection that in a few short hours he would have her to himself when + nothing but a blunder on his part should hinder him from sounding her + young mind and getting such answers to his questions as the affair in + which he was so deeply interested, demanded. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS + </h2> + <p> + “You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday’s intrusion has not + prejudiced you against me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no prejudices,” was her simple but firm reply. “I am only hurried + and very anxious. The doctor is with Mr. Brotherson just now; but he has + several other equally sick patients to visit and I dare not keep him here + too long.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will welcome my abruptness. Miss Scott, here is a letter from + Mr. Challoner. It will explain my position. As you will see, his only + desire is to establish the fact that his daughter did not commit suicide. + She was all he had in the world, and the thought that she could, for any + reason, take her own life is unbearable to him. Indeed, he will not + believe she did so, evidence or no evidence. May I ask if you agree with + him? You have seen Miss Challoner, I believe. Do you think she was the + woman to plunge a dagger in her heart in a place as public as a hotel + reception room?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Sweetwater. I’m a poor working girl, with very little education + and almost no knowledge of the world and such ladies as she. But something + tells me for all that, that she was too nice to do this. I saw her once + and it made me want to be quiet and kind and beautiful like her. I never + shall think she did anything so horrible. Nor will Mr. Brotherson ever + believe it. He could not and live. You see, I am talking to you as if you + knew him,—the kind of man he is and just how he feels towards Miss + Challoner. He is—” Her voice trailed off and a look, uncommon and + almost elevated, illumined her face. “I will not tell you what he is; you + will know, if you ever see him.” + </p> + <p> + “If the favourable opinion of a whole town makes a good fellow, he ought + to be of the best,” returned Sweetwater, with his most honest smile. “I + hear but one story of him wherever I turn.” + </p> + <p> + “There is but one story to tell,” she smiled, and her head drooped softly, + but with no air of self-consciousness. + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater watched her for a moment, and then remarked: “I’m going to take + one thing for granted; that you are as anxious as we are to clear Miss + Challoner’s memory.” + </p> + <p> + “O yes, O yes.” + </p> + <p> + “More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your very looks + show that.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right; I would do anything to help you. But what can a girl like + me do? Nothing; nothing. I know too little. Mr. Challoner must see that + when you tell him I’m only the daughter of a foreman.” + </p> + <p> + “And a friend of Mr. Brotherson,” supplemented Sweetwater. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she smiled, “he would want me to say so. But that’s his goodness. I + don’t deserve the honour.” + </p> + <p> + “His friend and therefore his confidante,” Sweetwater continued. “He has + talked to you about Miss Challoner?” + </p> + <p> + “He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, I had + seen her and could understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you see her?” + </p> + <p> + “In New York. I was there once with father, who took me to see her. I + think she had asked Mr. Brotherson to send his little friend to her hotel + if ever we came to New York.” + </p> + <p> + “That was some time ago?” + </p> + <p> + “We were there in June.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have corresponded ever since with Miss Challoner?” + </p> + <p> + “She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times to answer + her.” + </p> + <p> + The suspicion which might have come to some men found no harbour in + Sweetwater’s mind. This young girl was beautiful, there was no denying + that, beautiful in a somewhat startling and quite unusual way; but there + was nothing in her bearing, nothing in Miss Challoner’s letters to + indicate that she had been a cause for jealousy in the New York lady’s + mind. He, therefore, ignored this possibility, pursuing his inquiry along + the direct lines he had already laid out for himself. Smiling a little, + but in a very earnest fashion, he pointed to the letter she still held and + quietly said: + </p> + <p> + “Remember that I’m not speaking for myself, Miss Scott, when I seem a + little too persistent and inquiring. You have corresponded with Miss + Challoner; you have been told the fact of her secret engagement to Mr. + Brotherson and you have been witness to his conduct and manner for the + whole time he has been separated from her. Do you, when you think of it + carefully, recall anything in the whole story of this romance which would + throw light upon the cruel tragedy which has so unexpectedly ended it? + Anything, Miss Scott? Straws show which way the stream flows.” + </p> + <p> + She was vehement, instantly vehement, in her disclaimer. + </p> + <p> + “I can answer at once,” said she, “because I have thought of nothing else + for all these weeks. Here all was well. Mr. Brotherson was hopeful and + happy and believed in her happiness and willingness to wait for his + success. And this success was coming so fast! Oh, how can we ever tell + him! How can we ever answer his questions even, or keep him satisfied and + calm until he is strong enough to hear the truth. I’ve had to acknowledge + already that I have had no letter from her for weeks. She never wrote to + him directly, you know, and she never sent him messages, but he knew that + a letter to me, was also a letter to him and I can see that he is troubled + by this long silence, though he says I was right not to let her know of + his illness and that I must continue to keep her in ignorance of it till + he is quite well again and can write to her himself. It is hard to hear + him talk like this and not look sad or frightened.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner’s last letter, and wished he had it + here to give her. In default of this, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps this not hearing may act in the way of a preparation for the + shock which must come to him sooner or later. Let us hope so, Miss Scott.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes filled. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can prepare him,” said she. Then added, with a yearning accent, + “I wish I were older or had more experience. I should not feel so + helpless. But the gratitude I owe him will give me strength when I need it + most. Only I wish the suffering might be mine rather than his.” + </p> + <p> + Unconscious of any self-betrayal, she lifted her eyes, startling + Sweetwater by the beauty of her look. “I don’t think I’m so sorry for + Oswald Brotherson,” he murmured to himself as he left her. “He’s a more + fortunate man than he knows, however deeply he may feel the loss of his + first sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + That evening the disappointed Sweetwater took the train for New York. He + had failed to advance the case in hand one whit, yet the countenance he + showed Mr. Gryce at their first interview was not a wholly gloomy one. + </p> + <p> + “Fifty dollars to the bad!” was his first laconic greeting. “All I have + learned is comprised in these two statements. The second O. B. is a fine + fellow; and not intentionally the cause of our tragedy. He does not even + know about it. He’s down with the fever at present and they haven’t told + him. When he’s better we may hear something; but I doubt even that.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about it.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater complied; and such is the unconsciousness with which we often + encounter the pivotal circumstance upon which our future or the future of + our most cherished undertaking hangs, he omitted from his story, the sole + discovery which was of any real importance in the unravelling of the + mystery in which they were so deeply concerned. He said nothing of his + walk in the woods or of what he saw there. + </p> + <p> + “A meagre haul,” he remarked at the close. + </p> + <p> + “But that’s as it should be, if you and I are right in our impressions and + the clew to this mystery lies here in the character and daring of Orlando + Brotherson. That’s why I’m not down in the mouth. Which goes to show what + a grip my prejudices have on me.” + </p> + <p> + “As prejudiced as a bulldog.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly. By the way, what news of the gentleman I’ve just mentioned? Is + he as serene in my absence as when under my eye?” + </p> + <p> + “More so; he looks like a man on the verge of triumph. But I fear the + triumph he anticipates has nothing to do with our affairs. All his time + and thought is taken up with his invention.” + </p> + <p> + “You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small comfort can I + carry him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD + </h2> + <p> + In the comfortable little sitting-room of the Scott cottage Doris stood, + looking eagerly from the window which gave upon the road. Behind her on + the other side of the room, could be seen through a partly opened door, a + neatly spread bed, with a hand lying quietly on the patched coverlet. It + was a strong looking hand which, even when quiescent, conveyed the idea of + purpose and vitality. As Doris said, the fingers never curled up + languidly, but always with the hint of a clench. Several weeks had passed + since the departure of Sweetwater and the invalid was fast gaining + strength. To-morrow, he would be up. + </p> + <p> + Was Doris thinking of him? Undoubtedly, for her eyes often flashed his + way; but her main attention was fixed upon the road, though no one was in + sight at the moment. Some one had passed for whose return she looked; some + one whom, if she had been asked to describe, she would have called a tall, + fine-looking man of middle age, of a cultivated appearance seldom seen in + this small manufacturing town; seldom seen, possibly, in any town. He had + glanced up at the window as he went by, in a manner too marked not to + excite her curiosity. Would he look up again when he came back? She was + waiting there to see. Why, she did not know. She was not used to indulging + in petty suppositions of this kind; her life was too busy, her anxieties + too keen. The great dread looming ever before her,—the dread of that + hour when she must speak,—left her very little heart for anything + dissociated with this coming event. For a girl of seventeen she was + unusually thoughtful. Life had been hard in this little cottage since her + mother died, or rather she had felt its responsibilities keenly. + </p> + <p> + Life itself could not be hard where Oswald Brotherson lived; neither to + man, nor woman. The cheer of some natures possesses a divine faculty. If + it can help no other way, it does so by the aid of its own light. Such was + the character of this man’s temperament. The cottage was a happy place; + only—she never fathomed the depths of that only. If in these days + she essayed at times to do so, she gave full credit to the Dread which + rose ever before her—rose like a ghost! She, Doris, led by + inscrutable Fate, was waiting to hurt him who hurt nobody; whose mere + presence was a blessing. + </p> + <p> + But her interest had been caught to-day, caught by this stranger, and when + during her eager watch the small messenger from the Works came to the door + with the usual daily supply of books and magazines for the patient, she + stepped out on the porch to speak to him and to point out the gentleman + who was now rapidly returning from his stroll up the road. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that, Johnny?” she asked. “You know everybody who comes to town. + What is the name of the gentleman you see coming?” + </p> + <p> + The boy looked, searched his memory, not without some show of misgiving. + </p> + <p> + “A queer name,” he admitted at last. “I never heard the likes of it here + before. Shally something. Shally—Shally—” + </p> + <p> + “Challoner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s it. How could you guess? He’s from New York. Nobody knows why + he’s here. Don’t seem to have no business.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind. Run on, Johnny. And don’t forget to come earlier + to-morrow; Mr. Brotherson gets tired waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he? I’ll come quick then; quick as I can run.” And he sped off at a + pace which promised well for the morrow. + </p> + <p> + Challoner! There was but one Challoner in the world for Doris Scott,—Edith’s + father. Was this he? It must be, or why this haunting sense of something + half remembered as she caught a glimpse of his face. Edith’s father! and + he was approaching, approaching rapidly, on his way back to town. Would he + stop this time? As the possibility struck her, she trembled and drew back, + entering the house, but pausing in the hall with her ear turned to the + road. She had not closed the door; something within—a hope or a + dread—had prevented that. Would he take it as an invitation to come + in? No, no; she was not ready for such an encounter yet. He might speak + Edith’s name; Oswald might hear and—with a gasp she recognised the + closeness of his step; heard it lag, almost halt just where the path to + the house ran into the roadside. But it passed on. He was not going to + force an interview yet. She could hear him retreating further and further + away. The event was not for this day, thank God! She would have one night + at least in which to prepare herself. + </p> + <p> + With a sense of relief so great that she realised, for one shocked moment, + the full extent of her fears, she hastened back into the sitting-room, + with her collection of books and pamphlets. A low voice greeted her. It + came from the adjoining room. + </p> + <p> + “Doris, come here, sweet child. I want you.” + </p> + <p> + How she would have bounded joyously at the summons, had not that Dread + raised its bony finger in every call from that dearly loved voice. As it + was, her feet moved slowly, lingering at the sound. But they carried her + to his side at last, and once there, she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “See what an armful,” she cried in joyous greeting, as she held out the + bundle she had brought. “You will be amused all day. Only, do not tire + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want the papers, Doris; not yet. There’s something else which + must come first. Doris, I have decided to let you write to her. I’m so + much better now, she will not feel alarmed. I must—must get a word + from her. I’m starving for it. I lie here and can think of nothing else. A + message—one little message of six short words would set me on my + feet again. So get your paper and pen, dear child, and write her one of + your prettiest letters.” + </p> + <p> + Had he loved her, he would have perceived the chill which shook her whole + body, as he spoke. But his first thought, his penetrating thought, was not + for her and he saw only the answering glance, the patient smile. She had + not expected him to see more. She knew that she was quite safe from the + divining look; otherwise, he would have known her secret long ago. + </p> + <p> + “I’m ready,” said she. But she did not lay down her bundle. She was not + ready for her task, poor child. She quailed before it. She quailed so much + that she feared to stir lest he should see that she had no command over + her movements. + </p> + <p> + The man who watched without seeing wondered that she stood so still and + spoke so briefly. But only for a moment. He thought he understood her + hesitation, and a look of great earnestness replaced his former one of + grave decision. + </p> + <p> + “I know that in doing this I am going beyond my sacred compact with Miss + Challoner,” he said. “I never thought of illness,—at least, of + illness on my part. I never dreamt that I, always so well, always so full + of life, could know such feebleness as this, feebleness which is all of + the body, Doris, leaving the mind free to dream and long. Talk of her, + child. Tell me all over again just how she looked and spoke that day you + saw her in New York.” + </p> + <p> + “Would it not be better for me to write my letter first? Papa will be + coming soon and Truda can never cook your bird as you like it.” + </p> + <p> + Surprised now by something not quite natural in her manner, he caught at + her hand and held her as she was moving away. + </p> + <p> + “You are tired,” said he. “I’ve wearied you with my commission and + complaints. Forgive me, dear child, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken,” she interrupted softly. “I am not tired; I only wished + to do the important thing first. Shall I get my desk? Do you really wish + me to write?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, softly dropping her hand. “I wish you to write. It will + ensure me good sleep, and sleep will make me strong. A few words, Doris; + just a few words.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded; turning quickly away to hide her tears. His smile had gone to + her very soul. It was always a beautiful one, his chief personal + attraction, but at this moment it seemed to concentrate within it the + unspoken fervours and the boundless expectations of a great love, and she + who was the aim and cause of all this sweetness lay in unresponsive + silence in a distant tomb! + </p> + <p> + But Doris’ own smile was not lacking in encouragement and beauty when she + came back a few minutes later and sat down by his side to write. His + melted before it, leaving his eyes very earnest as he watched her bending + figure and the hard-worked little hand at its unaccustomed task. + </p> + <p> + “I must give her daily exercises,” he decided within himself. “That look + of pain shows how difficult this work is for her. It must be made easy at + any cost to my time. Such beauty calls for accomplishment. I must not + neglect so plain a duty.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime, she was struggling to find words in face of that great Dread. + She had written Dear Miss Challoner and was staring in horror at the + soulless words. Only her sense of duty upheld her. Gladly would she have + torn the sheet in two and rushed away. How could she add sentences to this + hollow phrase, the mere employment of which seemed a sacrilege. Dear Miss + Challoner. Oh, she was dear, but— + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously the young head drooped, and the pen slid from her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” she murmured, “I cannot think what to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I help you?” came softly from the bed. “I’ll try and not forget + that it is Doris writing.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will be so good,” she answered, with renewed courage. “I can put + the words down if you will only find them for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Write then. ‘Dear Miss Challoner!” + </p> + <p> + “I have already written that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you shudder?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m cold. I’ve been cold all day. But never mind that, Mr. Brotherson. + Tell me how to begin my letter.” + </p> + <p> + “This way. ‘I’ve not been able to answer your kind letter, because I have + had to play nurse for some three or four weeks to a very fretful and + exacting patient.’ Have you written that?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Doris, bending over her desk till her curls fell in a tangle + over her white cheeks. “I do not like to,” she protested at last, with an + attempt at naivete which seemed real enough to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, leave out the fretful if you must, but keep in the exacting. I have + been exacting, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Silence, broken only by the scratching of the stubborn, illy-directed pen. + </p> + <p> + “It’s down,” she whispered. She said, afterward, that it was like writing + with a ghost looking over one’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Then add, ‘Mr. Brotherson has had a slight attack of fever, but he is + getting well fast, and will soon—, Do I run on too quickly?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I can follow.” + </p> + <p> + “But not without losing breath; eh, Doris?” + </p> + <p> + As he laughed, she smiled. There was a heroism in that smile, Oswald + Brotherson, of which you knew nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You might speak a little more slowly,” she admitted. + </p> + <p> + Quietly he repeated the last phrase. “‘But he is getting well fast and + will soon be ready to take up the management of the Works which was given + him just before he was taken ill.’ That will show her that I am working + up,” he brightly remarked as Doris carefully penned the last word. “Of + myself you need say nothing more, unless—” he paused and his face + took on a wistful look which Doris dared not meet; “unless—but no, + no, she must think it has been only a passing indisposition. If she knew I + had been really ill, she would suffer, and perhaps act imprudently or + suffer and not dare to act at all, which might be sadder for her still. + Leave it where it is and begin about yourself. Write a good deal about + yourself, so that she will see that you are not worried and that all is + well with us here. Cannot you do that without assistance? Surely you can + tell her about that last piece of embroidery you showed me. She will be + glad to hear—why, Doris!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Brotherson,” the poor child burst out, “you must let me cry! I’m + so glad to see you better and interested in all sorts of things. These are + not tears of grief. I—I—but I’m forgetting what the doctor + told me. You are growing excited, and I was to see that you were calm, + always calm. I will take my desk away. I will write the rest in the other + room, while you look at the magazines.” + </p> + <p> + “But bring your letter back for me to seal. I want to see it in its + envelope. Oh, Doris, you are a good little girl!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and hastened to hide herself from him in the other + room; and it was a long time before she came back with the letter folded + and in its envelope. When she did, her face was composed and her manner + natural. She had quite made up her mind what her duty was and how she was + going to perform it. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the letter,” said she, laying it in his outstretched hand. Then + she turned her back. She knew, with a woman’s unerring instinct why he + wished to handle it before it went. She felt that kiss he folded away in + it, in every fibre of her aroused and sympathetic heart, but the hardest + part of the ordeal was over and her eyes beamed softly when she turned + again to take it from his hand and affix the stamp. + </p> + <p> + “You will mail it yourself?” he asked. “I should like to have you put it + into the box with your own hand.” + </p> + <p> + “I will put it in to-night, after supper,” she promised him. + </p> + <p> + His smile of contentment assured her that this trial of her courage and + self-control was not without one blessed result. He would rest for several + days in the pleasure of what he had done or thought he had done. She need + not cringe before that image of Dread for two, three days at least. + Meanwhile, he would grow strong in body, and she, perhaps, in spirit. Only + one precaution she must take. No hint of Mr. Challoner’s presence in town + must reach him. He must be guarded from a knowledge of that fact as + certainly as from the more serious one which lay behind it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXVIII. I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + </h2> + <p> + That this would be a difficult thing to do, Doris was soon to realise. Mr. + Challoner continued to pass the house twice a day and the time finally + came when he ventured up the walk. + </p> + <p> + Doris was in the window and saw him coming. She slipped softly out and + intercepted him before he had stepped upon the porch. She had caught up + her hat as she passed through the hall, and was fitting it to her head as + he looked up and saw her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Scott?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “You know me?” he went on, one foot on the step and one still on the walk. + </p> + <p> + Before replying she closed the door behind her. Then as she noted his + surprise she carefully explained: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson, our boarder, is just recovering from typhoid. He is still + weak and acutely susceptible to the least noise. I was afraid that our + voices might disturb him. Do you mind walking a little way up the road? + That is, if your visit was intended for me.” + </p> + <p> + Her flush, the beauty which must have struck even him, but more than all + else her youth, seemed to reconcile him to this unconventional request. + Bowing, he took his foot from the step, saying, as she joined him: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are the one I wanted to see; that is, to-day. Later, I hope to + have the privilege of a conversation with Mr. Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him one quick look, trembling so that he offered her his arm with + a fatherly air. + </p> + <p> + “I see that you understand my errand here,” he proceeded, with a grave + smile, meant as she knew for her encouragement. “I am glad, because we can + go at once to the point. Miss Scott,” he continued in a voice from which + he no longer strove to keep back the evidences of deep feeling, “I have + the strongest interest in your patient that one man can have in another, + where there is no personal acquaintanceship. You who have every reason to + understand my reasons for this, will accept the statement, I hope, as + frankly as it is made.” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. Her eyes were full of tears, but she did not hesitate to raise + them. She had the greatest desire to see the face of the man who could + speak like this to-day, and yet of whose pride and sense of superiority + his daughter had stood in such awe, that she had laid a seal upon the + impulses of her heart, and imposed such tasks and weary waiting upon her + lover. Doris forgot, in meeting his softened glance and tender, almost + wistful, expression, the changes which can be made by a great grief, and + only wondered why her sweet benefactress had not taken him into her + confidence and thus, possibly, averted the doom which Doris felt had in + some way grown out of this secrecy. + </p> + <p> + “Why should she have feared the disapproval of this man?” she inwardly + queried, as she cast him a confiding look which pleased him greatly, as + his tone now showed. + </p> + <p> + “When I lost my daughter, I lost everything,” he declared, as they walked + slowly up the road. “Nothing excites my interest, save that which once + excited hers. I am told that the deepest interest of her life lay here. I + am also told that it was an interest quite worthy of her. I expect to find + it so. I hope with all my heart to find it so, and that is why I have come + to this town and expect to linger till Mr. Brotherson has recovered + sufficiently to see me. I hope that this will be agreeable to him. I hope + that I am not presuming too much in cherishing these expectations.” + </p> + <p> + Doris turned her candid eyes upon him. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell; I do not know,” said she. “Nobody knows, not even the + doctor, what effect the news we so dread to give him will have upon Mr. + Brotherson. You will have to wait—we all shall have to wait the + results of that revelation. It cannot be kept from him much longer. When I + return, I shall shrink from his first look, in the fear of seeing it + betray this dreadful knowledge. Yet I have a faithful woman there to keep + every one out of his room.” + </p> + <p> + “You have had much to carry for one so young,” was Mr. Challoner’s + sympathetic remark. “You must let me help you when that awful moment + comes. I am at the hotel and shall stay there till Mr. Brotherson is + pronounced quite well. I have no other duty now in life but to sustain him + through his trouble and then, with what aid he can give, search out and + find the cause of my daughter’s death which I will never admit without the + fullest proof, to have been one of suicide.” + </p> + <p> + Doris trembled. + </p> + <p> + “It was not suicide,” she declared, vehemently. “I have always felt sure + that it was not; but to-day I KNOW.” + </p> + <p> + Her hand fell clenched on her breast and her eyes gleamed strangely. Mr. + Challoner was himself greatly startled. What had happened—what could + have happened since yesterday that she should emphasise that now? + </p> + <p> + “I’ve not told any one,” she went on, as he stopped short in the road, in + his anxiety to understand her. “But I will tell you. Only, not here, not + with all these people driving past; most of whom know me. Come to the + house later—this evening, after Mr. Brotherson’s room is closed for + the night. I have a little sitting-room on the other side of the hall + where we can talk without being heard. Would you object to doing that? Am + I asking too much of you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not at all,” he assured her. “Expect me at eight. Will that be too + early?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. Oh, how those people stared! Let us hasten back or they may + connect your name with what we want kept secret.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled at her fears, but gave in to her humour; he would see her soon + again and possibly learn something which would amply repay him, both for + his trouble and his patience. + </p> + <p> + But when evening came and she turned to face him in that little + sitting-room where he had quietly followed her, he was conscious of a + change in her manner which forbade these high hopes. The gleam was gone + from her eyes; the tremulous eagerness from her mobile and sensitive + mouth. She had been thinking in the hours which had passed, and had lost + the confidence of that one impetuous moment. Her greeting betrayed + embarrassment and she hesitated painfully before she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you will think of me,” she ventured at last, motioning + to a chair but not sitting herself. “You have had time to think over what + I said and probably expect something real,—something you could tell + people. But it isn’t like that. It’s a feeling—a belief. I’m so sure—” + </p> + <p> + “Sure of what, Miss Scott?” + </p> + <p> + She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer. He had not taken + the chair she preferred. + </p> + <p> + “Sure that I have seen the face of the man who murdered her. It was in a + dream,” she whisperingly completed, her great eyes misty with awe. + </p> + <p> + “A dream, Miss Scott?” He tried to hide his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I knew that it would sound foolish to you; it sounds foolish to me. + But listen, sir. Listen to what I have to tell and then you can judge. I + was very much agitated yesterday. I had to write a letter at Mr. + Brotherson’s dictation—a letter to her. You can understand my horror + and the effort I made to hide my emotion. I was quite unnerved. I could + not sleep till morning, and then—and then—I saw—I hope I + can describe it.” + </p> + <p> + Grasping at a near-by chair, she leaned on it for support, closing her + eyes to all but that inner vision. A breathless moment followed, then she + murmured in strained monotonous tones: + </p> + <p> + “I see it again—just as I saw it in the early morning—but even + more plainly, if that is possible. A hall—(I should call it a hall, + though I don’t remember seeing any place like it before), with a little + staircase at the side, up which there comes a man, who stops just at the + top and looks intently my way. There is fierceness in his face—a + look which means no good to anybody—and as his hand goes to his + overcoat pocket, drawing out something which I cannot describe, but which + he handles as if it were a pistol, I feel a horrible fear, and—and—” + The child was staggering, and the hand which was free had sought her heart + where it lay clenched, the knuckles showing white in the dim light. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner watched her with dilated eyes, the spell under which she + spoke falling in some degree upon him. Had she finished? Was this all? No; + she is speaking again, but very low, almost in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “There is music—a crash—but I plainly see his other hand + approach the object he is holding. He takes something from the end—the + object is pointed my way—I am looking into—into—what? I + do not know. I cannot even see him now. The space where he stood is empty. + Everything fades, and I wake with a loud cry in my ears and a sense of + death here.” She had lifted her hand and struck at her heart, opening her + eyes as she did so. “Yet it was not I who had been shot,” she added + softly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner shuddered. This was like the reopening of his daughter’s + grave. But he had entered upon the scene with a full appreciation of the + ordeal awaiting him and he did not lose his calmness, or the control of + his judgment. + </p> + <p> + “Be seated, Miss Scott,” he entreated, taking a chair himself. “You have + described the spot and some of the circumstances of my daughter’s death as + accurately as if you had been there. But you have doubtless read a full + account of those details in the papers; possibly seen pictures which would + make the place quite real to you. The mind is a strange storehouse. We do + not always know what lies hidden within it.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true,” she admitted. “But the man! I had never seen the man, or + any picture of him, and his face was clearest of all. I should know it if + I saw it anywhere. It is imprinted on my memory as plainly as yours. Oh, I + hope never to see that man!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner sighed; he had really anticipated something from the + interview. The disappointment was keen. A moment of expectation; the + thrill which comes to us all under the shadow of the supernatural, and + then—this! a young and imaginative girl’s dream, convincing to + herself but supplying nothing which had not already been supplied both by + the facts and his own imagination! A man had stood at the staircase, and + this man had raised his arm. She said that she had seen something like a + pistol in his hand, but his daughter had not been shot. This he thought it + well to point out to her. + </p> + <p> + Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention, he waited till + her eyes met his, then quietly asked: + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever named this man to yourself?” + </p> + <p> + She started and dropped her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I do not dare to,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I’ve read in the papers that the man who stood there had the same + name as—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Miss Scott.” + </p> + <p> + “As Mr. Brotherson’s brother.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not think it was his brother?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve never seen his brother?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor his picture?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Brotherson has none.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren’t they friends? Does he never mention Orlando?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, very rarely. But I’ve no reason to think they are not on good + terms. I know they correspond.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Scott?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Challoner.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not rely too much upon your dream.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flashed to his and then fell again. + </p> + <p> + “Dreams are not revelations; they are the reproduction of what already + lies hidden in the mind. I can prove that your dream is such.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” She looked startled. + </p> + <p> + “You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you think + of a pistol.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was looking directly into it.” + </p> + <p> + “But my daughter was not shot. She died from a stab.” + </p> + <p> + Doris’ lovely face, with its tender lines and girlish curves, took on a + strange look of conviction which deepened, rather than melted under his + indulgent, but penetrating gaze. + </p> + <p> + “I know that you think so;—but my dream says no. I saw this object. + It was pointed directly towards me—above all, I saw his face. It was + the face of one whose finger is on the trigger and who means death; and I + believe my dream.” + </p> + <p> + Well, it was useless to reason further. Gentle in all else, she was + immovable so far as this idea was concerned and, seeing this, he let the + matter go and prepared to take his leave. + </p> + <p> + She seemed to be quite ready for this. Anxiety about her patient had + regained its place in her mind and her glance sped constantly toward the + door. Taking her hand in his, he said some kind words, then crossed to the + door and opened it. Instantly her finger flew to her lips and, obedient to + its silent injunction, he took up his hat in silence, and was proceeding + down the hall, when the bell rang, startling them both and causing him to + step quickly back. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” she asked. “Father’s in and visitors seldom come so late.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I see?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, revealing + the tall, strong figure of a man facing them from the porch. + </p> + <p> + “A stranger,” formed itself upon her lips, and she was moving forward, + when the man suddenly stepped into the glare of the light, and she + stopped, with a murmur of dismay which pierced Mr. Challoner’s heart and + prepared him for the words which now fell shudderingly from her lips: + </p> + <p> + “It is he! it is he! I said that I should know him wherever I saw him.” + Then with a quiet turn towards the intruder, “Oh, why, why, did you come + here!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER + </h2> + <p> + Her hands were thrust out to repel, her features were fixed; her beauty + something wonderful. Orlando Brotherson, thus met, stared for a moment at + the vision before him, then slowly and with effort withdrawing his gaze, + he sought the face of Mr. Challoner with the first sign of open + disturbance that gentleman had ever seen in him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said he, “my welcome is readily understood. I see you far from home, + sir.” And with an ironical bow he turned again to Doris, who had dropped + her hands, but in whose cheeks the pallor still lingered in a way to check + the easy flow of words with which he might have sought to carry off the + situation. “Am I in Oswald Brotherson’s house?” he asked. “I was directed + here. But possibly there may be some mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “It is here he lives,” said she; moving back automatically till she stood + again by the threshold of the small room in which she had received Mr. + Challoner. “Do you wish to see him to-night? If so, I fear it is + impossible. He has been very ill and is not allowed to receive visits from + strangers.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a stranger,” announced the newcomer, with a smile few could see + unmoved, it offered such a contrast to his stern and dominating figure. “I + thought I heard some words of recognition which would prove your knowledge + of that fact.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. Her lips had parted, but her thought or at least the + expression of her thought hung suspended in the terror of this meeting for + which she was not at all prepared. He seemed to note this terror, whether + or not he understood its cause, and smiled again, as he added: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, Miss + Scott. Will you let me come in now?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes sought those of Mr. Challoner, who quietly nodded. Immediately + she stepped from before the door which her figure had guarded and, + motioning him to enter, she begged Mr. Challoner, with an imploring look, + to sustain her in the interview she saw before her. He had no desire for + this encounter, especially as Mr. Brotherson’s glance in his direction had + been anything but conciliatory. He was quite convinced that nothing was to + be gained by it, but he could not resist her appeal, and followed them + into the little room whose limited dimensions made the tall Orlando look + bigger and stronger and more lordly in his self-confidence than ever. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry it is so late,” she began, contemplating his intrusive figure + with forced composure. “We have to be very quiet in the evenings so as not + to disturb your brother’s first sleep which is of great importance to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’m not to see him to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “I pray you to wait. He’s—he’s been a very sick man.” + </p> + <p> + “Dangerously so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando continued to regard her with a peculiar awakening gaze, showing, + Mr. Challoner thought, more interest in her than in his brother, and when + he spoke it was mechanically and as if in sole obedience to the + proprieties of the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know he was ill till very lately. His last letter was a + cheerful one, and I supposed that all was right till chance revealed the + truth. I came on at once. I was intending to come anyway. I have business + here, as you probably know, Miss Scott.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “I know very little about business,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “My brother has not told you why he expected me?” + </p> + <p> + “He has not even told me that he expected you.” + </p> + <p> + “No?” The word was highly expressive; there was surprise in it and a touch + of wonder, but more than all, satisfaction. “Oswald was always + close-mouthed,” he declared. “It’s a good fault; I’m obliged to the boy.” + </p> + <p> + These last words were uttered with a lightness which imposed upon his two + highly agitated hearers, causing Mr. Challoner to frown and Doris to + shrink back in indignation at the man who could indulge in a sportive + suggestion in presence of such fears, if not of such memories, as the + situation evoked. But to one who knew the strong and self-contained man—to + Sweetwater possibly, had he been present,—there was in this very + attempt—in his quiet manner and in the strange and fitful flash of + his ordinarily quick eye, that which showed he was labouring—and had + been labouring almost from his first entrance, under an excitement of + thought and feeling which in one of his powerfully organised nature must + end and that soon in an outburst of mysterious passion which would carry + everything before it. But he did not mean that it should happen here. He + was too accustomed to self-command to forget himself in this presence. He + would hold these rampant dogs in leash till the hour of solitude; then—a + glittering smile twisted his lips as he continued to gaze, first at the + girl who had just entered his life, and then at the man he had every + reason to distrust, and with that firm restraint upon himself still in + full force, remarked, with a courteous inclination: + </p> + <p> + “The hour is late for further conversation. I have a room at the hotel and + will return to it at once. In the morning I hope to see my brother.” + </p> + <p> + He was going, Doris not knowing what to say, Mr. Challoner not desirous of + detaining him, when there came the sound of a little tinkle from the other + side of the hall, blanching the young girl’s cheeks and causing Orlando + Brotherson’s brows to rise in peculiar satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “My brother?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” came in faltering reply. “He has heard our voices; I must go to + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Say that Orlando wishes him a good night,” smiled her heart’s enemy, with + a bow of infinite grace. + </p> + <p> + She shuddered, and was hastening from the room when her glance fell on Mr. + Challoner. He was pale and looked greatly disturbed. The prospect of being + left alone with a man whom she had herself denounced to him as his + daughter’s murderer, might prove a tax to his strength to which she had no + right to subject him. Pausing with an appealing air, she made him a slight + gesture which he at once understood. + </p> + <p> + “I will accompany you into the hall,” said he. “Then if anything is wrong, + you have but to speak my name.” + </p> + <p> + But Orlando Brotherson, displeased by this move, took a step which brought + him between the two. + </p> + <p> + “You can hear her from here if she chooses to speak. There’s a point to be + settled between us before either of us leaves this house, and this + opportunity is as good as another. Go to my brother, Miss Scott; we will + await your return.” + </p> + <p> + A flash from the proud banker’s eye; but no demur, rather a gesture of + consent. Doris, with a look of deep anxiety, sped away, and the two men + stood face to face. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those moments which men recognise as memorable. What had the + one to say or the other to hear, worthy of this preamble and the more than + doubtful relation in which they stood each to each? Mr. Challoner had more + time than he expected in which to wonder and gird himself for whatever + suffering or shock awaited him. For, Orlando Brotherson, unlike his usual + self, kept him waiting while he collected his own wits, which, strange to + say, seemed to have vanished with the girl. + </p> + <p> + But the question finally came. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Challoner, do you know my brother?” + </p> + <p> + “I have never seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him? Does he know you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. We are strangers.” + </p> + <p> + It was said honestly. They did not know each other. Mr. Challoner was + quite correct in his statement. + </p> + <p> + But the other had his doubts. Why shouldn’t he have? The coincidence of + finding this mourner if not avenger of Edith Challoner, in his own direct + radius again, at a spot so distant, so obscure and so disconnected with + any apparent business reason, was certainly startling enough unless the + tie could be found in his brother’s name and close relationship to + himself. + </p> + <p> + He, therefore, allowed himself to press the question: + </p> + <p> + “Men sometimes correspond who do not know each other. You knew that a + Brotherson lived here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And hoped to learn something about me?” + </p> + <p> + “No; my interest was solely with your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “With my brother? With Oswald? What interest can you have in him apart + from me? Oswald is—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a thought came—an unimaginable one; one with power to + blanch even his hardy cheek and shake a soul unassailable by all small + emotions. + </p> + <p> + “Oswald Brotherson!” he repeated; adding in unintelligible tones to + himself—“O. B. The same initials! They are following up these + initials. Poor Oswald.” Then aloud: “It hardly becomes me, perhaps, to + question your motives in this attempt at making my brother’s acquaintance. + I think I can guess them; but your labour will be wasted. Oswald’s + interests do not extend beyond this town; they hardly extend to me. We are + strangers, almost. You will learn nothing from him on the subject which + naturally engrosses you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner simply bowed. “I do not feel called upon,” said he, “to + explain my reasons for wishing to know your brother. I will simply satisfy + you upon a point which may well rouse your curiosity. You remember that—that + my daughter’s last act was the writing of a letter to a little protegee of + hers. Miss Scott was that protegee. In seeking her, I came upon him. Do + you require me to say more on this subject? Wait till I have seen Mr. + Oswald Brotherson and then perhaps I can do so.” + </p> + <p> + Receiving no answer to this, Mr. Challoner turned again to the man who was + the object of his deepest suspicions, to find him still in the daze of + that unimaginable thought, battling with it, scoffing at it, succumbing to + it and all without a word. Mr. Challoner was without clew to this + struggle, but the might of it and the mystery of it, drove him in extreme + agitation from the room. Though proof was lacking, though proof might + never come, nothing could ever alter his belief from this moment on that + Doris was right in her estimate of this man’s guilt, however unsubstantial + her reasoning might appear. + </p> + <p> + How far he might have been carried by this new conviction; whether he + would have left the house without seeing Doris again or exchanging another + word with the man whose very presence stifled him, he had no opportunity + to show, for before he had taken another step, he encountered the hurrying + figure of Doris, who was returning to her guests with an air of marked + relief. + </p> + <p> + “He does not know that you are here,” she whispered to Mr. Challoner, as + she passed him. Then, as she again confronted Orlando who hastened to + dismiss his trouble at her approach, she said quite gaily, “Mr. Brotherson + heard your voice, and is glad to know that you’re here. He bade me give + you this key and say that you would have found things in better shape if + he had been in condition to superintend the removal of the boxes to the + place he had prepared for you before he became ill. I was the one to do + that,” she added, controlling her aversion with manifest effort. “When Mr. + Brotherson came to himself he asked if I had heard about any large boxes + having arrived at the station shipped to his name. I said that several + notices of such had come to the house. At which he requested me to see + that they were carried at once to the strange looking shed he had had put + up for him in the woods. I thought that they were for him, and I saw to + the thing myself. Two or three others have come since and been taken to + the same place. I think you will find nothing broken or disturbed; Mr. + Brotherson’s wishes are usually respected.” + </p> + <p> + “That is fortunate for me,” was the courteous reply. + </p> + <p> + But Orlando Brotherson was not himself, not at all himself as he bowed a + formal adieu and withdrew past the drawn-up sentinel-like figure of Mr. + Challoner, without a motion on his part or on the part of that gentleman + to lighten an exit which had something in it of doom and dread presage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXX. CHAOS + </h2> + <p> + It is not difficult to understand Mr. Challoner’s feelings or even those + of Doris at the moment of Mr. Brotherson’s departure. But why this change + in Brotherson himself? Why this sense of something new and terrible rising + between him and the suddenly beclouded future? Let us follow him to his + lonely hotel-room and see if we can solve the puzzle. + </p> + <p> + But first, does he understand his own trouble? He does not seem to. For + when, his hat thrown aside, he stops, erect and frowning under the flaring + gas-jet he had no recollection of lighting, his first act was to lift his + hand to his head in a gesture of surprising helplessness for him, while + snatches of broken sentences fell from his lips among which could be + heard: + </p> + <p> + “What has come to me? Undone in an hour! Doubly undone! First by a face + and then by this thought which surely the devils have whispered to me. Mr. + Challoner and Oswald! What is the link between them? Great God! what is + the link? Not myself? Who then or what?” + </p> + <p> + Flinging himself into a chair, he buried his face in his hands. There were + two demons to fight—the first in the guise of an angel. Doris! + Unknown yesterday, unknown an hour ago; but now! Had there ever been a day—an + hour—when she had not been as the very throb of his heart, the light + of his eyes, and the crown of all imaginable blisses? + </p> + <p> + He was startled at his own emotion as he contemplated her image in his + fancy and listened for the lost echo of the few words she had spoken—words + so full of music when they referred to his brother, so hard and cold when + she simply addressed himself. + </p> + <p> + This was no passing admiration of youth for a captivating woman. This was + not even the love he had given to Edith Challoner. This was something + springing full-born out of nothing! a force which, for the first time in + his life, made him complaisant to the natural weaknesses of man! a dream + and yet a reality strong enough to blot out the past, remake the present, + change the aspect of all his hopes, and outline a new fate. He did not + know himself. There was nothing in his whole history to give him an + understanding of such feelings as these. + </p> + <p> + Can a man be seized as it were by the hair, and swung up on the slopes of + paradise or down the steeps of hell—without a forewarning, without + the chance even to say whether he wished such a cataclysm in his life or + no? + </p> + <p> + He, Orlando Brotherson, had never thought much of love. Science had been + his mistress; ambition his lode-star. Such feeling as he had acknowledged + to had been for men—struggling men, men who were down-trodden and + gasping in the narrow bounds of poverty and helplessness. Miss Challoner + had roused—well, his pride. He could see that now. The might of this + new emotion made plain many things he had passed by as useless, puerile, + unworthy of a man of mental calibre and might. He had never loved Edith + Challoner at any moment of their acquaintanceship, though he had been + sincere in thinking that he did. Doris’ beauty, the hour he had just + passed with her, had undeceived him. + </p> + <p> + Did he hail the experience? It was not likely to bring him joy. This young + girl whose image floated in light before his eyes, would never love him. + She loved his brother. He had heard their names mentioned together before + he had been in town an hour. Oswald, the cleverest man, Doris, the most + beautiful girl in Western Pennsylvania. + </p> + <p> + He had accepted the gossip then; he had not seen her and it all seemed + very natural;—hardly worth a moment’s thought. But now! + </p> + <p> + And here, the other Demon sprang erect and grappled with him before the + first one had let go his hold. Oswald and Challoner! The secret, unknown + something which had softened that hard man’s eye when his brother’s name + was mentioned! He had noted it and realised the mystery; a mystery before + which sleep and rest must fly; a mystery to which he must now give his + thought, whatever the cost, whatever the loss to those heavenly dreams the + magic of which was so new it seemed to envelope him in the balm of + Paradise. Away, then, image of light! Let the faculties thou hast dazed, + act again. There is more than Fate’s caprice in Challoner’s interest in a + man he never saw. Ghosts of old memories rise and demand a hearing. Facts, + trivial and commonplace enough to have been lost in oblivion with the day + which gave them birth, throng again from the past, proving that nought + dies without a possibility of resurrection. Their power over this brooding + man is shown by the force with which his fingers crush against his bowed + forehead. Oswald and Challoner! Had he found the connecting link? Had it + been—could it have been Edith? The preposterous is sometimes true; + could it be true in this case? + </p> + <p> + He recalled the letters read to him as hers in that room of his in + Brooklyn. He had hardly noted them then, he was so sure of their being + forgeries, gotten up by the police to mislead him. Could they have been + real, the effusions of her mind, the breathings of her heart, directed to + an actual O. B., and that O. B., his brother? They had not been meant for + him. He had read enough of the mawkish lines to be sure of that. None of + the allusions fitted in with the facts of their mutual intercourse. But + they might with those of another man; they might with the possible acts + and affections of Oswald whose temperament was wholly different from his + and who might have loved her, should it ever be shown that they had met + and known each other. And this was not an impossibility. Oswald had been + east, Oswald had even been in the Berkshires before himself. Oswald—Why + it was Oswald who had suggested that he should go there—go where she + still was. Why this second coincidence, if there were no tie—if the + Challoners and Oswald were as far apart as they seemed and as + conventionalities would naturally place them. Oswald was a sentimentalist, + but very reserved about his sentimentalities. If these suppositions were + true, he had had a sentimentalist’s motive for what he did. As Orlando + realised this, he rose from his seat, aghast at the possibilities + confronting him from this line of thought. Should he contemplate them? + Risk his reason by dwelling on a supposition which might have no + foundation in fact? No. His brain was too full—his purposes too + important for any unnecessary strain to be put upon his faculties. No + thinking! investigation first. Mr. Challoner should be able to settle this + question. He would see him. Even at this late hour he ought to be able to + find him in one of the rooms below; and, by the force of an irresistible + demand, learn in a moment whether he had to do with a mere chimera of his + own overwrought fancy, or with a fact which would call into play all the + resources of an hitherto unconquered and undaunted nature. + </p> + <p> + There was a wood-fire burning in the sitting-room that night, and around + it was grouped a number of men with their papers and pipes. Mr. + Brotherson, entering, naturally looked that way for the man he was in + search of, and was disappointed not to find him there; but on casting his + glances elsewhere, he was relieved to see him standing in one of the + windows overlooking the street. His back was to the room and he seemed to + be lost in a fit of abstraction. + </p> + <p> + As Orlando crossed to him, he had time to observe how much whiter was this + man’s head than in the last interview he had held with him in the + coroner’s office in New York. But this evidence of grief in one with whom + he had little, if anything, in common, neither touched his feelings nor + deterred his step. The awakening of his heart to new and profound emotions + had not softened him towards the sufferings of others if those others + stood without the pale he had previously raised as the legitimate boundary + of a just man’s sympathies. + </p> + <p> + He was, as I have said, an extraordinary specimen of manly vigour in body + and in mind, and his presence in any company always attracted attention + and roused, if it never satisfied, curiosity. Conversation accordingly + ceased as he strode up to Mr. Challoner’s side, so that his words were + quite audible as he addressed that gentleman with a somewhat curt: + </p> + <p> + “You see me again, Mr. Challoner. May I beg of you a few minutes’ further + conversation? I will not detain you long.” + </p> + <p> + The grey head turned, and the many eyes watching showed surprise at the + expression of dislike and repulsion with which this New York gentleman met + the request thus emphatically urged. But his answer was courteous enough. + If Mr. Brotherson knew a place where they would be left undisturbed, he + would listen to him if he would be very brief. + </p> + <p> + For reply, the other pointed to a small room quite unoccupied which opened + out of the one in which they then stood. Mr. Challoner bowed and in an + other moment the door closed upon them, to the infinite disappointment of + the men about the hearth. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish to ask?” was Mr. Challoner’s immediate inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “This; I make no apologies and expect in answer nothing more than an + unequivocal yes or no. You tell me that you have never met my brother. Can + that be said of the other members of your family—of your deceased + daughter, in fact?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “She was acquainted with Oswald Brotherson?” + </p> + <p> + “She was.” + </p> + <p> + “Without your knowledge?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely so.” + </p> + <p> + “Corresponded with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “How, not exactly?” + </p> + <p> + “He wrote to her—occasionally. She wrote to him frequently—but + she never sent her letters.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + The exclamation was sharp, short and conveyed little. Yet with its escape, + the whole scaffolding of this man’s hold upon life and his own fate went + down in indistinguishable chaos. Mr. Challoner realised a sense of havoc, + though the eyes bent upon his countenance had not wavered, nor the + stalwart figure moved. + </p> + <p> + “I have read some of those letters,” the inventor finally acknowledged. + “The police took great pains to place them under my eye, supposing them to + have been meant for me because of the initials written on the wrapper. But + they were meant for Oswald. You believe that now?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why I found you in the same house with him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is. Providence has robbed me of my daughter; if this brother of yours + should prove to be the man I am led to expect, I shall ask him to take + that place in my heart and life which was once hers.” + </p> + <p> + A quick recoil, a smothered exclamation on the part of the man he + addressed. A barb had been hidden in this simple statement which had + reached some deeply-hidden but vulnerable spot in Brotherson’s breast, + which had never been pierced before. His eye which alone seemed alive, + still rested piercingly upon that of Mr. Challoner, but its light was fast + fading, and speedily became lost in a dimness in which the other seemed to + see extinguished the last upflaring embers of those inner fires which feed + the aspiring soul. It was a sight no man could see unmoved. Mr. Challoner + turned sharply away, in dread of the abyss which the next word he uttered + might open between them. + </p> + <p> + But Orlando Brotherson possessed resources of strength of which, possibly, + he was not aware himself. When Mr. Challoner, still more affected by the + silence than by the dread I have mentioned, turned to confront him again, + it was to find his features composed and his glance clear. He had + conquered all outward manifestation of the mysterious emotion which for an + instant had laid his proud spirit low. + </p> + <p> + “You are considerate of my brother,” were the words with which he + re-opened this painful conversation. “You will not find your confidence + misplaced. Oswald is a straightforward fellow, of few faults.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it. No man can be so universally beloved without some very + substantial claims to regard. I am glad to see that your opinion, though + given somewhat coldly, coincides with that of his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not given to exaggeration,” was the even reply. + </p> + <p> + The flush which had come into Mr. Challoner’s cheek under the effort he + had made to sustain with unflinching heroism this interview with the man + he looked upon as his mortal enemy, slowly faded out till he looked the + wraith of himself even to the unsympathetic eyes of Orlando Brotherson. A + duty lay before him which would tax to its utmost extent his already + greatly weakened self-control. Nothing which had yet passed showed that + this man realised the fact that Oswald had been kept in ignorance of Miss + Challoner’s death. If these brothers were to meet on the morrow, it must + be with the full understanding that this especial topic was to be + completely avoided. But in what words could he urge such a request upon + this man? None suggested themselves, yet he had promised Miss Scott that + he would ensure his silence in this regard, and it was with this + difficulty and no other he had been struggling when Mr. Brotherson came + upon him in the other room. + </p> + <p> + “You have still something to say,” suggested the latter, as an oppressive + silence swallowed up that icy sentence I have already recorded. + </p> + <p> + “I have,” returned Mr. Challoner, regaining his courage under the + exigencies of the moment. “Miss Scott is very anxious to have your promise + that you will avoid all disagreeable topics with your brother till the + doctor pronounces him strong enough to meet the trouble which awaits him.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—” + </p> + <p> + “He is not as unhappy as we. He knows nothing of the affliction which has + befallen him. He was taken ill—” The rest was almost inaudible. + </p> + <p> + But Orlando Brotherson had no difficulty in understanding him, and for the + second time in this extraordinary interview, he gave evidences of + agitation and of a mind shaken from its equipoise. But only for an + instant. He did not shun the other’s gaze or even maintain more than a + momentary silence. Indeed, he found strength to smile, in a curious, + sardonic way, as he said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I should be apt to broach this subject with any one, let + alone with him, whose connection with it I shall need days to realise? I’m + not so given to gossip. Besides, he and I have other topics of interest. I + have an invention ready with which I propose to experiment in a place he + has already prepared for me. We can talk about that.” + </p> + <p> + The irony, the hardy self-possession with which this was said struck Mr. + Challoner to the heart. Without a word he wheeled about towards the door. + Without a word, Brotherson stood, watching him go till he saw his hand + fall on the knob when he quietly prevented his exit by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy truths cannot be long concealed. How soon does the doctor think + my brother can bear these inevitable revelations?” + </p> + <p> + “He said this morning that if his patient were as well to-morrow as his + present condition gives promise of, he might be told in another week.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando bowed his appreciation of this fact, but added quickly: + </p> + <p> + “Who is to do the telling?” + </p> + <p> + “Doris. Nobody else could be trusted with so delicate a task.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to be present.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner looked up, surprised at the feeling with which this request + was charged. + </p> + <p> + “As his brother—his only remaining relative, I have that right. Do + you think that Dor—that Miss Scott, can be trusted not to forestall + that moment by any previous hint of what awaits him?” + </p> + <p> + “If she so promises. But will you exact this from her? It surely cannot be + necessary for me to say that your presence will add infinitely to the + difficulty of her task.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet it is a duty I cannot shirk. I will consult the doctor about it. I + will make him see that I both understand and shall insist upon my rights + in this matter. But you may tell Miss Doris that I will sit out of sight, + and that I shall not obtrude myself unless my name is brought up in an + undesirable way.” + </p> + <p> + The hand on the door-knob made a sudden movement. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson, I can bear no more to-night. With your permission, I will + leave this question to be settled by others.” And with a repetition of his + former bow, the bereaved father withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Orlando watched him till the door closed, then he too dropped his mask. + </p> + <p> + But it was on again, when in a little while he passed through the + sitting-room on his way upstairs. + </p> + <p> + No other day in his whole life had been like this to the hardy inventor; + for in it both his heart and his conscience had been awakened, and up to + this hour he had not really known that he possessed either. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING + </h2> + <p> + Other boxes addressed to O. Brotherson had been received at the station, + and carried to the mysterious shed in the woods; and now, with locked door + and lifted top, the elder brother contemplated his stores and prepared + himself for work. + </p> + <p> + He had been allowed a short interview with Oswald, and he had indulged + himself in a few words with Doris. But he had left those memories behind + with other and more serious matters. Nothing that could unnerve his hand + or weaken his insight should enter this spot sacred to his great hope. + Here genius reigned. Here he was himself wholly and without flaw;—a + Titan with his grasp on a mechanical idea by means of which he would soon + rule the world. + </p> + <p> + Not so happy were the other characters in this drama. Oswald’s thoughts, + disturbed for a short time by the somewhat constrained interview he had + held with his brother, had flown eastward again, in silent love and + longing; while Doris, with a double dread now in her heart, went about her + daily tasks, praying for strength to endure the horrors of this week, + without betraying the anxieties secretly devouring her. And she was only + seventeen and quite alone in her trouble. She must bear it all unassisted + and smile, which she did with heavenly sweetness, when the magic threshold + was passed and she stood in her invalid’s presence, overshadowed though it + ever was by the great Dread. + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Challoner? Let those endless walks of his through the woods and + over the hills tell his story if they can; or his rapidly whitening hair, + and lagging step. He had been a strong man before his trouble, and had the + stroke which laid him low been limited to one quick, sharp blow he might + have risen above it after a while and been ready to encounter life again. + But this long drawn out misery was proving too much for him. The sight of + Brotherson, though they never really met, acted like acid upon a wound, + and it was not till six days had passed and the dreaded Sunday was at + hand, that he slept with any sense of rest or went his way about the town + without that halting at the corners which betrayed his perpetual + apprehension of a most undesirable encounter. + </p> + <p> + The reason for this change will be apparent in the short conversation he + held with a man he had come upon one evening in the small park just beyond + the workmen’s dwellings. + </p> + <p> + “You see I am here,” was the stranger’s low greeting. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” was Mr. Challoner’s reply. “I could not have faced to-morrow + alone and I doubt if Miss Scott could have found the requisite courage. + Does she know that you are here?” + </p> + <p> + “I stopped at her door.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that safe?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. Mr. Brotherson—the Brooklyn one,—is up in his + shed. He sleeps there now, I am told, and soundly too I’ve no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “What is he making?” + </p> + <p> + “What half the inventors on both sides of the water are engaged upon just + now. A monoplane, or a biplane, or some machine for carrying men through + the air. I know, for I helped him with it. But you’ll find that if he + succeeds in this undertaking, and I believe he will, nothing short of fame + awaits him. His invention has startling points. But I’m not going to give + them away. I’ll be true enough to him for that. As an inventor he has my + sympathy; but—Well, we will see what we shall see, to-morrow. You + say that he is bound to be present when Miss Scott relates her tragic + story. He won’t be the only unseen listener. I’ve made my own arrangements + with Miss Scott. If he feels the need of watching her and his brother + Oswald, I feel the need of watching him.” + </p> + <p> + “You take a burden of intolerable weight from my shoulders. Now I shall + feel easier about that interview. But I should like to ask you this: Do + you feel justified in this continued surveillance of a man who has so + frequently, and with such evident sincerity, declared his innocence?” + </p> + <p> + “I do that. If he’s as guiltless as he says he is, my watchfulness won’t + hurt him. If he’s not, then, Mr. Challoner, I’ve but one duty; to match + his strength with my patience. That man is the one great mystery of the + day, and mysteries call for solution. At least, that’s the way a detective + looks at it.” + </p> + <p> + “May Heaven help your efforts!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall need its assistance,” was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater was by no + means blind to the difficulties awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXII. TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + </h2> + <p> + The day was a grey one, the first of the kind in weeks. As Doris stepped + into the room where Oswald sat, she felt how much a ray of sunshine would + have encouraged her and yet how truly these leaden skies and this dismal + atmosphere expressed the gloom which soon must fall upon this hopeful, + smiling man. + </p> + <p> + He smiled because any man must smile at the entrance of so lovely a woman, + but it was an abstracted smile, and Doris, seeing it, felt her courage + falter for a moment, though her steps did not, nor her steady + compassionate gaze. Advancing slowly, and not answering because she did + not hear some casual remark of his, she took her stand by his side and + then slowly and with her eyes on his face, sank down upon her knees, still + without speaking, almost without breathing. + </p> + <p> + His astonishment was evident, for her air was strange and full of presage,—as, + indeed, she had meant it to be. But he remained as silent as she, only + reached out his emaciated hand and, laying it on her head, smiled again + but this time far from abstractedly. Then, as he saw her cheeks pale in + terror of the task before her, he ventured to ask gently: + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, child? So weary, eh? Nothing worse than that, I + hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite strong this morning? Strong enough to listen to my + troubles; strong enough to bear your own if God sees fit to send them?” + came hesitatingly from her lips as she watched the effect of each word, in + breathless anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Troubles? There can be but one trouble for me,” was his unexpected reply. + “That I do not fear—will not fear in my hour of happy recovery. So + long as Edith is well—Doris! Doris! You alarm me. Edith is not ill;—not + ill?” + </p> + <p> + The poor child could not answer save with her sympathetic look and + halting, tremulous breath; and these signs, he would not, could not read, + his own words had made such an echo in his ears. + </p> + <p> + “Ill! I cannot imagine Edith ill. I always see her in my thoughts, as I + saw her on that day of our first meeting; a perfect, animated woman with + the joyous look of a glad, harmonious nature. Nothing has ever clouded + that vision. If she were ill I would have known it. We are so truly one + that—Doris, Doris, you do not speak. You know the depth of my love, + the terror of my thoughts. Is Edith ill?” + </p> + <p> + The eyes gazing wildly into his, slowly left his face and raised + themselves aloft, with a sublime look. Would he understand? Yes, he + understood, and the cry which rang from his lips stopped for a moment the + beating of more than one heart in that little cottage. + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” he shrieked out, and fell back fainting in his chair, his lips + still murmuring in semi-unconsciousness, “Dead! dead!” + </p> + <p> + Doris sprang to her feet, thinking of nothing but his wavering, slipping + life till she saw his breath return, his eyes refill with light. Then the + horror of what was yet to come—the answer which must be given to the + how she saw trembling on his lips, caused her to sink again upon her knees + in an unconscious appeal for strength. If that one sad revelation had been + all! + </p> + <p> + But the rest must be told; his brother exacted it and so did the + situation. Further waiting, further hiding of the truth would be + insupportable after this. But oh, the bitterness of it! No wonder that she + turned away from those frenzied, wildly-demanding eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Doris?” + </p> + <p> + She trembled and looked behind her. She had not recognised his voice. Had + another entered? Had his brother dared—No, they were alone; + seemingly so, that is. She knew,—no one better—that they were + not really alone, that witnesses were within hearing, if not within sight. + </p> + <p> + “Doris,” he urged again, and this time she turned in his direction and + gazed, aghast. If the voice were strange, what of the face which now + confronted her. The ravages of sickness had been marked, but they were + nothing to those made in an instant by a blasting grief. She was startled, + although expecting much, and could only press his hands while she waited + for the question he was gathering strength to utter. It was simple when it + came; just two words: + </p> + <p> + “How long?” + </p> + <p> + She answered them as simply. + </p> + <p> + “Just as long as you have been ill,” said she; then, with no attempt to + break the inevitable shock, she went on: “Miss Challoner was struck dead + and you were taken down with typhoid on the self-same day.” + </p> + <p> + “Struck dead! Why do you use that word, struck? Struck dead! she, a young + woman. Oh, Doris, an accident! My darling has been killed in an accident!” + </p> + <p> + “They do not call it accident. They call it what it never was. What it + never was,” she insisted, pressing him back with frightened hands, as he + strove to rise. “Miss Challoner was—” How nearly the word shot had + left her lips. How fiercely above all else, in that harrowing moment had + risen the desire to fling the accusation of that word into the ears of him + who listened from his secret hiding-place. But she refrained out of + compassion for the man she loved, and declared instead, “Miss Challoner + died from a wound; how given, why given, no one knows. I had rather have + died myself than have to tell you this. Oh, Mr. Brotherson, speak, sob, do + anything but—” + </p> + <p> + She started back, dropping his hands as she did so. With quick intuition + she saw that he must be left to himself if he were to meet this blow + without succumbing. The body must have freedom if the spirit would not go + mad. Conscious, or perhaps not conscious, of his release from her + restraining hand, albeit profiting by it, he staggered to his feet, + murmuring that word of doom: “Wound! wound! my darling died of a wound! + What kind of a wound?” he suddenly thundered out. “I cannot understand + what you mean by wound. Make it clear to me. Make it clear to me at once. + If I must bear this grief, let me know its whole depth. Leave nothing to + my imagination or I cannot answer for myself. Tell it all, Doris.” + </p> + <p> + And Doris told him: + </p> + <p> + “She was on the mezzanine floor of the hotel where she lives. She was + seemingly happy and had been writing a letter—a letter to me which + they never forwarded. There was no one else by but some strangers—good + people whom one must believe. She was crossing the floor when suddenly she + threw up her hands and fell. A thin, narrow paper-cutter was in her grasp; + and it flew into the lobby. Some say she struck herself with that cutter; + for when they picked her up they found a wound in her breast which that + cutter might have made.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith? never!” + </p> + <p> + The words were chokingly said; he was swaying, almost falling, but he + steadied himself. + </p> + <p> + “Who says that?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It was the coroner’s verdict.” + </p> + <p> + “And she died that way—died?” + </p> + <p> + “Immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “After writing to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What was in that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of threat, they say. Only just cheer and expressions of hope. + Just like the others, Mr. Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + “And they accuse her of taking her own life? Their verdict is a lie. They + did not know her.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after some moments of wild and confused feeling, he declared, with a + desperate effort at self-control: “You said that some believe this. Then + there must be others who do not. What do they say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. They simply feel as you do. They see no reason for the act and + no evidence of her having meditated it. Her father and her friend insist + besides, that she was incapable of such a horror. The mystery of it is + killing us all; me above others, for I’ve had to show you a cheerful face, + with my brain reeling and my heart like lead in my bosom.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hands. She tried to draw his attention to herself; not + from any sentiment of egotism, but to break, if she could, the strain of + these insupportable horrors where so short a time before Hope sang and + Life revelled in re-awakened joys. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps some faint realisation of this reached him, for presently he + caught her by the hands and bowed his head upon her shoulder and finally + let her seat him again, before he said: + </p> + <p> + “Do they know of—of my interest in this?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; they know about the two O. B.s.” + </p> + <p> + “The two—” He was on his feet again, but only for a moment; his + weakness was greater than his will power. + </p> + <p> + “Orlando and Oswald Brotherson,” she explained, in answer to his broken + appeal. “Your brother wrote letters to her as well as you, and signed them + just as you did, with his initials only. These letters were found in her + desk, and he was supposed, for a time, to have been the author of all that + were so signed. But they found out the difference after awhile. Yours were + easily recognised after they learned there was another O. B. who loved + her.” + </p> + <p> + The words were plain enough, but the stricken listener did not take them + in. They carried no meaning to him. How should they? The very idea she + sought to impress upon him by this seemingly careless allusion was an + incredible one. She found it her dreadful task to tell him the hard, bare + truth. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother,” said she, “was devoted to Miss Challoner, too. He even + wanted to marry her. I cannot keep back this fact. It is known everywhere, + and by everybody but you.” + </p> + <p> + “Orlando?” His lips took an ironical curve, as he uttered the word. This + was a young girl’s imaginative fancy to him. “Why Orlando never knew her, + never saw her, never—” + </p> + <p> + “He met her at Lenox.” + </p> + <p> + The name produced its effect. He stared, made an effort to think, repeated + Lenox over to himself; then suddenly lost his hold upon the idea which + that word suggested, struggled again for it, seized it in an instant of + madness and shouted out: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I remember. I sent him there—” and paused, his mind blank + again. + </p> + <p> + Poor Doris, frightened to her very soul, looked blindly about for help; + but she did not quit his side; she did not dare to, for his lips had + reopened; the continuity of his thoughts had returned; he was going to + speak. + </p> + <p> + “I sent him there.” The words came in a sort of shout. “I was so hungry to + hear of her and I thought he might mention her in his letter. Insane! + Insane! He saw her and—What’s that you said about his loving her? He + couldn’t have loved her; he’s not of the loving sort. They’ve deceived you + with strange tales. They’ve deceived the whole world with fancies and mad + dreams. He may have admired her, but loved her,—no! or if he had, he + would have respected my claims.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not know them.” + </p> + <p> + A laugh; a laugh which paled Doris’ cheek; then his tones grew even again, + memory came back and he muttered faintly: + </p> + <p> + “That is true. I said nothing to him. He had the right to court her—and + he did, you say; wrote to her; imposed himself upon her, drove her mad + with importunities she was forced to rebuke; and—and what else? + There is something else. Tell me; I will know it all.” + </p> + <p> + He was standing now, his feebleness all gone, passion in every lineament + and his eye alive and feverish, with emotion. “Tell me,” he repeated, with + unrestrained vehemence. “Tell me all. Kill me with sorrow but save me from + being unjust.” + </p> + <p> + “He wrote her a letter; it frightened her. He followed it up by a visit—” + </p> + <p> + Doris paused; the sentence hung suspended. She had heard a step—a + hand on the door. + </p> + <p> + Orlando had entered the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIII. ALONE + </h2> + <p> + Oswald had heard nothing, seen nothing. But he took note of Doris’ + silence, and turning towards her in frenzy saw what had happened, and so + was in a measure prepared for the stern, short sentence which now rang + through the room: + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Miss Scott! you tell the story badly. Let him listen to me. From my + mouth only shall he hear the stern and seemingly unnatural part I played + in this family tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + The face of Oswald hardened. Those pliant features—beloved for their + gracious kindliness—set themselves in lines which altered them + almost beyond recognition; but his voice was not without some of its + natural sweetness, as, after a long and hollow look at the other’s + composed countenance, he abruptly exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Speak! I am bound to listen; you are my brother.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando turned towards Doris. She was slipping away. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go,” said he. + </p> + <p> + But she was gone. + </p> + <p> + Slowly he turned back. + </p> + <p> + Oswald raised his hand and checked the words with which he would have + begun his story. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the beginnings,” said he. “Doris has told all that. You saw + Miss Challoner in Lenox—admired her—offered yourself to her + and afterwards wrote her a threatening letter because she rejected you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true. Other men have followed just such unworthy impulses—and + been ashamed and sorry afterwards. I was sorry and I was ashamed, and as + soon as my first anger was over went to tell her so. But she mistook my + purpose and—” + </p> + <p> + “And what?” + </p> + <p> + Orlando hesitated. Even his iron nature trembled before the misery he saw—a + misery he was destined to augment rather than soothe. With pains + altogether out of keeping with his character, he sought in the recesses of + his darkened mind for words less bitter and less abrupt than those which + sprang involuntarily to his lips. But he did not find them. Though he + pitied his brother and wished to show that he did, nothing but the stern + language suitable to the stern fact he wished to impart, would leave his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “And ended the pitiful struggle of the moment with one quick, + unpremeditated blow,” was what he said. “There is no other explanation + possible for this act, Oswald. Bitter as it is for me to acknowledge it, I + am thus far guilty of this beloved woman’s death. But, as God hears me, + from the moment I first saw her, to the moment I saw her last, I did not + know, nor did I for a moment dream that she was anything to you or to any + other man of my stamp and station. I thought she despised my country + birth, my mechanical attempts, my lack of aristocratic pretensions and + traditions.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith?” + </p> + <p> + “Now that I know she had other reasons for her contempt—that the + words she wrote were in rebuke to the brother rather than to the man, I + feel my guilt and deplore my anger. I cannot say more. I should but insult + your grief by any lengthy expressions of regret and sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + A groan of intolerable anguish from the sick man’s lips, and then the + quick thrust of his re-awakened intelligence rising superior to the + overthrow of all his hopes. + </p> + <p> + “For a woman of Edith’s principle to seek death in a moment of + desperation, the provocation must have been very great. Tell me if I’m to + hate you through life—yea through all eternity—or if I must + seek in some unimaginable failure of my own character or conduct the cause + of her intolerable despair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oswald!” The tone was controlling, and yet that of one strong man to + another. “Is it for us to read the heart of any woman, least of all of a + woman of her susceptibilities and keen inner life? The wish to end all + comes to some natures like a lightning flash from a clear sky. It comes, + it goes, often without leaving a sign. But if a weapon chances to be near—(here + it was in hand)—then death follows the impulse which, given an + instant of thought, would have vanished in a back sweep of other emotions. + Chance was the real accessory to this death by suicide. Oswald, let us + realise it as such and accept our sorrow as a mutual burden and turn to + what remains to us of life and labour. Work is grief’s only consolation. + Then let us work.” + </p> + <p> + But of all this Oswald had caught but the one word. + </p> + <p> + “Chance?” he repeated. “Orlando, I believe in God.” + </p> + <p> + “Then seek your comfort there. I find it in harnessing the winds; in + forcing the powers of nature to do my bidding.” + </p> + <p> + The other did not speak, and the silence grew heavy. It was broken, when + it was broken, by a cry from Oswald: + </p> + <p> + “No more,” said he, “no more.” Then, in a yearning accent, “Send Doris to + me.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando started. This name coming so close upon that word comfort produced + a strange effect upon him. But another look at Oswald and he was ready to + do his bidding. The bitter ordeal was over; let him have his solace if it + was in her power to give it to him. + </p> + <p> + Orlando, upon leaving his brother’s room, did not stop to deliver that + brother’s message directly to Doris; he left this for Truda to do, and + retired immediately to his hangar in the woods. Locking himself in, he + slightly raised the roof and then sat down before the car which was + rapidly taking on shape and assuming that individuality and appearance of + sentient life which hitherto he had only seen in dreams. But his eye, + which had never failed to kindle at this sight before, shone dully in the + semi-gloom. The air-car could wait; he would first have his hour in this + solitude of his own making. The gaze he dreaded, the words from which he + shrank could not penetrate here. He might even shout her name aloud, and + only these windowless walls would respond. He was alone with his past, his + present and his future. + </p> + <p> + Alone! + </p> + <p> + He needed to be. The strongest must pause when the precipice yawns before + him. The gulf can be spanned; he feels himself forceful enough for that; + but his eyes must take their measurement of it first; he must know its + depths and possible dangers. Only a fool would ignore these steeps of + jagged rock; and he was no fool, only a man to whom the unexpected had + happened, a man who had seen his way clear to the horizon and then had + come up against this! Love, when he thought such folly dead! Remorse, when + Glory called for the quiet mind and heart! + </p> + <p> + He recognised its mordant fang, and knew that its ravages, though only + just begun, would last his lifetime. Nothing could stop them now, nothing, + nothing. And he laughed, as the thought went home; laughed at the irony of + fate and its inexorableness; laughed at his own defeat and his nearness to + a barred Paradise. Oswald loved Edith, loved her yet, with a flame time + would take long to quench. Doris loved Oswald and he Doris; and not one of + them would ever attain the delights each was so fitted to enjoy. Why + shouldn’t he laugh? What is left to man but mockery when all props fall? + Disappointment was the universal lot; and it should go merrily with him if + he must take his turn at it. But here the strong spirit of the man + re-asserted itself; it should be but a turn. A man’s joys are not bounded + by his loves or even by the satisfaction of a perfectly untrammelled mind. + Performance makes a world of its own for the capable and the strong, and + this was still left to him. He, Orlando Brotherson, despair while his + great work lay unfinished! That would be to lay stress on the inevitable + pains and fears of commonplace humanity. He was not of that ilk. Intellect + was his god; ambition his motive power. What would this casual blight upon + his supreme contentment be to him, when with the wings of his air-car + spread, he should spurn the earth and soar into the heaven of fame + simultaneously with his flight into the open. + </p> + <p> + He could wait for that hour. He had measured the gulf before him and found + it passable. Henceforth no looking back. + </p> + <p> + Rising, he stood for a moment gazing, with an alert eye now, upon such + sections of his car as had not yet been fitted into their places; then he + bent forward to his work, and soon the lips which had uttered that + sardonic laugh a few minutes before, parted in gentler fashion, and song + took the place of curses—a ballad of love and fondest truth. But + Orlando never knew what he sang. He had the gift and used it. + </p> + <p> + Would his tones, however, have rung out with quite so mellow a sweetness + had he seen the restless figure even then circling his retreat with eyes + darting accusation and arms lifted towards him in wild but impotent + threat? + </p> + <p> + Yes, I think they would; for he knew that the man who thus expressed his + helplessness along with his convictions, was no nearer the end he had set + himself to attain than on the day he first betrayed his suspicions. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIV. THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + </h2> + <p> + That night Oswald was taken very ill. For three days his life hung in the + balance, then youth and healthy living triumphed over shock and + bereavement, and he came slowly back to his sad and crippled existence. + </p> + <p> + He had been conscious for a week or more of his surroundings, and of his + bitter sorrows as well, when one morning he asked Doris whose face it was + he had seen bending over him so often during the last week: “Have you a + new doctor? A man with white hair and a comforting smile? Or have I + dreamed this face? I have had so many fancies this might easily be one of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not a fancy,” was the quiet reply. “Nor is it the face of a + doctor. It is that of friend. One whose heart is bound up in your + recovery; one for whom you must live, Mr. Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know him, Doris. It’s a strange face to me. And yet, it’s not + altogether strange. Who is this man and why should he care for me so + deeply?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you share one love and one grief. It is Edith’s father whom you + see at your bedside. He has helped to nurse you ever since you came down + this second time.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith’s father! Doris, it cannot be. Edith’s father!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Challoner has been in Derby for the last two weeks. He has only + one interest now; to see you well again.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Doris caught the note of pain, if not suspicion, in this query, and smiled + as she asked in turn: + </p> + <p> + “Shall he answer that question himself? He is waiting to come in. Not to + talk. You need not fear his talking. He’s as quiet as any man I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + The sick man closed his eyes, and Doris watching, saw the flush rise to + his emaciated cheek, then slowly fade away again to a pallor that + frightened her. Had she injured where she would heal? Had she pressed too + suddenly and too hard on the ever gaping wound in her invalid’s breast? + She gasped in terror at the thought, then she faintly smiled, for his eyes + had opened again and showed a calm determination as he said: + </p> + <p> + “I should like to see him. I should like him to answer the question I have + just put you. I should rest easier and get well faster—or not get + well at all.” + </p> + <p> + This latter he half whispered, and Doris, tripping from the room may not + have heard it, for her face showed no further shadow as she ushered in Mr. + Challoner, and closed the door behind him. She had looked forward to this + moment for days. To Oswald, however, it was an unexpected excitement and + his voice trembled with something more than physical weakness as he + greeted his visitor and thanked him for his attentions. + </p> + <p> + “Doris says that you have shown me this kindness from the desire you have + to see me well again Mr. Challoner. Is this true?” + </p> + <p> + “Very true. I cannot emphasise the fact too strongly.” + </p> + <p> + Oswald’s eyes met his again, this time with great earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “You must have serious reasons for feeling so—reasons which I do not + quite understand. May I ask why you place such value upon a life which, if + ever useful to itself or others, has lost and lost forever, the one + delight which gave it meaning?” + </p> + <p> + It was for Mr. Challoner’s voice to tremble now, as reaching out his hand, + he declared, with unmistakable feeling: + </p> + <p> + “I have no son. I have no interest left in life, outside this room and the + possibilities it contains for me. Your attachment to my daughter has + created a bond between us, Mr. Brotherson, which I sincerely hope to see + recognised by you.” + </p> + <p> + Startled and deeply moved, the young man stretched out a shaking hand + towards his visitor, with the feeble but exulting cry: + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not blame me for her wretched and mysterious death. You hold + me guiltless of the misery which nerved her despairing arm?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite guiltless.” + </p> + <p> + Oswald’s wan and pinched features took on a beautiful expression and Mr. + Challoner no longer wondered at his daughter’s choice. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” fell from the sick man’s lips, and then there was a silence + during which their two hands met. + </p> + <p> + It was some minutes before either spoke and then it was Oswald who said: + </p> + <p> + “I must confide to you certain facts. I honoured your daughter and + realised her position fully. Our plight was never made in words, nor + should I have presumed to advance any claim to her hand if I had not made + good my expectations, Mr. Challoner. I meant to win both her regard and + yours by acts, not words. I felt that I had a great deal to do and I was + prepared to work and wait. I loved her—” He turned away his head and + the silence which filled up the gap, united those two hearts, as the old + and young are seldom united. + </p> + <p> + But when a little later, Mr. Challoner rejoined Doris, in her little + sitting-room, he nevertheless showed a perplexity she had hoped to see + removed by this understanding with the younger Brotherson. + </p> + <p> + The cause became apparent as soon as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “These brothers hold by each other,” said he. “Oswald will hear nothing + against Orlando. He says that he has redeemed his fault. He does not even + protest that his brother’s word is to be believed in this matter. He does + not seem to think that necessary. He evidently regards Orlando’s + personality as speaking as truly and satisfactorily for itself, as his own + does. And I dared not undeceive him.” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know all our reasons for distrust. He has heard nothing about + the poor washerwoman.” + </p> + <p> + “No, and he must not,—not for weeks. He has borne all that he can.” + </p> + <p> + “His confidence in his older brother is sublime. I do not share it; but I + cannot help but respect him for it.” + </p> + <p> + It was warmly said, and Mr. Challoner could not forbear casting an anxious + look at her upturned face. What he saw there made him turn away with a + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “This confidence has for me a very unhappy side,” he remarked. “It shows + me Oswald’s thought. He who loved her best, accepts the cruel verdict of + an unreasoning public.” + </p> + <p> + Doris’ large eyes burned with a weird light upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “He has not had my dream,” she murmured, with all the quiet of an unmoved + conviction. + </p> + <p> + Yet as the days went by, even her manner changed towards the busy + inventor. It was hardly possible for it not to. The high stand he took; + the regard accorded him on every side; his talent; his conversation, which + was an education in itself, and, above all, his absorption in a work daily + advancing towards completion, removed him so insensibly and yet so + decidedly, from the hideous past of tragedy with which his name, if not + his honour, was associated, that, unconsciously to herself, she gradually + lost her icy air of repulsion and lent him a more or less attentive ear, + when he chose to join their small company of an evening. The result was + that he turned so bright a side upon her that toleration merged from day + to day into admiration and memory lost itself in anticipation of the event + which was to prove him a man of men, if not one of the world’s greatest + mechanical geniuses. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, Oswald was steadily improving in health, if not in spirits. He + had taken his first walk without any unfavourable results, and Orlando + decided from this that the time had come for an explanation of his device + and his requirements in regard to it. Seated together in Oswald’s room, he + broached the subject thus: + </p> + <p> + “Oswald, what is your idea about what I’m making up there?” + </p> + <p> + “That it will be a success.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; but its character, its use? What do you think it is?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve an idea; but my idea don’t fit the conditions.” + </p> + <p> + “How’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “The shed is too closely hemmed in. You haven’t room—” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “To start an aeroplane.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet it is certainly a device for flying.” + </p> + <p> + “I supposed so; but—” + </p> + <p> + “It is an air-car with a new and valuable idea—the idea for which + the whole world has been seeking ever since the first aeroplane found its + way up from the earth. My car needs no room to start in save that which it + occupies. If it did, it would be but the modification of a hundred + others.” + </p> + <p> + “Orlando!” + </p> + <p> + As Oswald thus gave expression to his surprise, their two faces were a + study: the fire of genius in the one; the light of sympathetic + understanding in the other. + </p> + <p> + “If this car, now within three days of its completion,” Orlando proceeded, + “does not rise from the oval of my hangar like a bird from its nest, and + after a wide and circling flight descend again into the self same spot + without any swerving from its direct course, then have I failed in my + endeavour and must take a back seat with the rest. But it will not fail. + I’m certain of success, Oswald. All I want just now is a sympathetic + helper—you, for instance; someone who will aid me with the final + fittings and hold his peace to all eternity if the impossible occurs and + the thing proves a failure.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you such pride as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “So much that you cannot face failure?” + </p> + <p> + “Not when attached to my name. You can see how I feel about that by the + secrecy I have worked under. No other person living knows what I have just + communicated to you. Every part shipped here came from different + manufacturing firms; sometimes a part of a part was all I allowed to be + made in any one place. My fame, like my ship, must rise with one bound + into the air, or it must never rise at all. It was not made for petty + accomplishment, or the slow plodding of commonplace minds. I must startle, + or remain obscure. That is why I chose this place for my venture, and you + for my helper and associate.” + </p> + <p> + “You want me to ascend with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “At the end of three days?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Orlando, I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot? Not strong enough yet? I’ll wait then,—three days + more.” + </p> + <p> + “The time’s too short. A month is scarcely sufficient. It would be folly, + such as you never show, to trust a nerve so undermined as mine till time + has restored its power. For an enterprise like this you need a man of + ready strength and resources; not one whose condition you might be obliged + to consider at a very critical moment.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando, balked thus at the outset, showed his displeasure. + </p> + <p> + “You do not do justice to your will. It is strong enough to carry you + through anything.” + </p> + <p> + “It was.” + </p> + <p> + “You can force it to act for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear not, Orlando.” + </p> + <p> + “I counted on you and you thwart me at the most critical moment of my + life.” + </p> + <p> + Oswald smiled; his whole candid and generous nature bursting into view, in + one quick flash. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he assented; “but you will thank me when you realise my + weakness. Another man must be found—quick, deft, secret, yet + honourably alive to the importance of the occasion and your rights as a + great original thinker and mechanician.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know such a man?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t; but there must be many such among our workmen.” + </p> + <p> + “There isn’t one; and I haven’t time to send to Brooklyn. I reckoned on + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you wait a month?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “A fortnight, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not ten days.” + </p> + <p> + Oswald looked surprised. He would like to have asked why such + precipitation was necessary, but the tone in which this ultimatum was + given was of that decisive character which admits of no argument. He, + therefore, merely looked his query. But Orlando was not one to answer + looks; besides, he had no reply for the same importunate question urged by + his own good sense. He knew that he must make the attempt upon which his + future rested soon, and without risk of the sapping influence of + lengthened suspense and weeks of waiting. He could hold on to those two + demons leagued in attack against him, for a definite seven days, but not + for an indeterminate time. If he were to be saved from folly,—from + himself—events must rush. + </p> + <p> + He, therefore, repeated his no, with increased vehemence, adding, as he + marked the reproach in his brother’s eye, “I cannot wait. The test must be + made on Saturday evening next, whatever the conditions; whatever the + weather. An air-car to be serviceable must be ready to meet lightning and + tempest, and what is worse, perhaps, an insufficient crew.” Then rising, + he exclaimed, with a determination which rendered him majestic, “If help + is not forthcoming, I’ll do it all myself. Nothing shall hold me back; + nothing shall stop me; and when you see me and my car rise above the + treetops, you’ll feel that I have done what I could to make you forget—” + </p> + <p> + He did not need to continue. Oswald understood and flashed a grateful look + his way before saying: + </p> + <p> + “You will make the attempt at night?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “And on Saturday?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve said it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will run over in my mind the qualifications of such men as I know and + acquaint you with the result to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “There are adjustments to be made. A man of accuracy is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “I will remember.” + </p> + <p> + “And he must be likable. I can do nothing with a man with whom I’m not + perfectly in accord.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night then.” A moment of hesitancy, then, “I wish not only yourself + but Miss Scott to be present at this test. Prepare her for the spectacle; + but not yet, not till within an hour or two of the occasion.” + </p> + <p> + And with a proud smile in which flashed a significance which startled + Oswald, he gave a hurried nod and turned away. + </p> + <p> + When in an hour afterwards, Doris looked in through the open door, she + found Oswald sitting with face buried in his hands, thinking so deeply + that he did not hear her. He had sat like this, immovable and absorbed, + ever since his brother had left him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXV. SILENCE—AND A KNOCK + </h2> + <p> + Oswald did not succeed in finding a man to please Orlando. He suggested + one person after another to the exacting inventor, but none were + satisfactory to him and each in turn was turned down. It is not every one + we want to have share a world-wide triumph or an ignominious defeat. And + the days were passing. + </p> + <p> + He had said in a moment of elation, “I will do it alone;” but he knew even + then that he could not. Two hands were necessary to start the car; + afterwards, he might manage it alone. Descent was even possible, but to + give the contrivance its first lift required a second mechanician. Where + was he to find one to please him? And what was he to do if he did not? + Conquer his prejudices against such men as he had seen, or delay the + attempt, as Oswald had suggested, till he could get one of his old cronies + on from New York. He could do neither. The obstinacy of his nature was + such as to offer an invincible barrier against either suggestion. One + alternative remained. He had heard of women aviators. If Doris could be + induced to accompany him into the air, instead of clinging sodden-like to + the weight of Oswald’s woe, then would the world behold a triumph which + would dwarf the ecstasy of the bird’s flight and rob the eagle of his + kingly pride. But Doris barely endured him as yet, and the thought was not + one to be considered for a moment. Yet what other course remained? He was + brooding deeply on the subject, in his hangar one evening—(it was + Thursday and Saturday was but two days off) when there came a light knock + at the door. + </p> + <p> + This had never occurred before. He had given strict orders, backed by his + brother’s authority, that he was never to be intruded upon when in this + place; and though he had sometimes encountered the prying eyes of the + curious flashing from behind the trees encircling the hangar, his door had + never been approached before, or his privacy encroached upon. He started + then, when this low but penetrating sound struck across the turmoil of his + thoughts, and cast one look in the direction from which it came; but he + did not rise, or even change his position on his workman’s stool. + </p> + <p> + Then it came again, still low but with an insistence which drew his brows + together and made his hand fall from the wire he had been unconsciously + holding through the mental debate which was absorbing him. Still he made + no response, and the knocking continued. Should he ignore it entirely, + start up his motor and render himself oblivious to all other sounds? At + every other point in his career he would have done this, but an unknown, + and as yet unnamed, something had entered his heart during this fatal + month, which made old ways impossible and oblivion a thing he dared not + court too recklessly. Should this be a summons from Doris! Should + (inconceivable idea, yet it seized upon him relentlessly and would not + yield for the asking) should it be Doris herself! + </p> + <p> + Taking advantage of a momentary cessation of the ceaseless tap tap, he + listened. Silence was never profounder than in this forest on that + windless night. Earth and air seemed, to his strained ear, emptied of all + sound. The clatter of his own steady, unhastened heart-beat was all that + broke upon the stillness. He might be alone in the Universe for all token + of life beyond these walls, or so he was saying to himself, when sharp, + quick, sinister, the knocking recommenced, demanding admission, insisting + upon attention, drawing him against his own will to his feet, and finally, + though he made more than one stand against it, to the very door. + </p> + <p> + “Who’s there?” he asked, imperiously and with some show of anger. + </p> + <p> + No answer, but another quiet knock. + </p> + <p> + “Speak! or go from my door. No one has the right to intrude here. What is + your name and business?” + </p> + <p> + Continued knocking—nothing more. + </p> + <p> + With an outburst of wrath, which made the hangar ring, Orlando lifted his + fist to answer this appeal in his own fierce fashion from his own side of + the door, but the impulse paused at fulfilment, and he let his arm fall + again in a rush of self-hatred which it would have pained his worst enemy, + even little Doris, to witness. As it reached his side, the knock came + again. + </p> + <p> + It was too much. With an oath, Orlando reached for his key. But before + fitting it into the lock, he cast a look behind him. The car was in plain + sight, filling the central space from floor to roof. A single glance from + a stranger’s eye, and its principal secret would be a secret no longer. He + must not run such a risk. Before he answered this call, he must drop the + curtain he had rigged up against such emergencies as these. He had but to + pull a cord and a veil would fall before his treasure, concealing it as + effectually as an Eastern bride is concealed behind her yashmak. + </p> + <p> + Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient sigh, + returned to the door. + </p> + <p> + Another quiet but insistent knock greeted him. In no fury now, but with a + vague sense of portent which gave an aspect of farewell to the one quick + glance he cast about the well-known spot, he fitted the key in the lock, + and stood ready to turn it. + </p> + <p> + “I ask again your name and your business,” he shouted out in loud command. + “Tell them or—” He meant to say, “or I do not turn this key.” But + something withheld the threat. He knew that it would perish in the + utterance; that he could not carry it out. He would have to open the door + now, response or no response. “Speak!” was the word with which he finished + his demand. + </p> + <p> + A final knock. + </p> + <p> + Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned the key + with his right. + </p> + <p> + The door remained unopened. + </p> + <p> + Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a moment, then + he spoke up quietly, almost courteously: + </p> + <p> + “Enter.” + </p> + <p> + But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only the + slightest tap was heard. + </p> + <p> + With a bound he reached forward and pulled the door open. Then a great + silence fell upon him and a rigidity as of the grave seized and stiffened + his powerful frame. + </p> + <p> + The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + </h2> + <p> + An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, + Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly + remarked: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Challoner and other men at the hotel are acquainted with my purpose + and await my return. I have come—” here he cast a glowing look at + the huge curtain cutting off the greater portion of the illy-lit interior—“to + offer you my services, Mr. Brotherson. I have no other motive for this + intrusion than to be of use. I am deeply interested in your invention, to + the development of which I have already lent some aid, and can bring to + the test you propose a sympathetic help which you could hardly find in any + other person living.” + </p> + <p> + The silence which settled down at the completion of these words had a + weight which made that of the previous moment seem light and all athrob + with sound. The man within had not yet caught his breath; the man without + held his, in an anxiety which had little to do with the direction of the + weapon, into which he looked. Then an owl hooted far away in the forest, + and Orlando, slowly lowering his arm, asked in an oddly constrained tone: + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been in town?” + </p> + <p> + The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great + misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that business as + unprofitable.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for a rise + sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits.” + </p> + <p> + The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow back into + the heart of the midnight woods. + </p> + <p> + But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead. “I have buried the + business. You will never resuscitate it through me.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there was + lightness in his tone as said: + </p> + <p> + “Then let us go back to the matter in hand. You need a helper; where are + you going to find one if you don’t take me?” + </p> + <p> + A growl from Brotherson’s set lips. Never had he looked more dangerous + than in the one burning instant following this daring repetition of the + detective’s outrageous request. But as he noted how slight was the figure + opposing him from the other side of the threshold, he was swayed by his + natural admiration of pluck in the physically weak, and lost his + threatening attitude, only to assume one which Sweetwater secretly found + it even harder to meet. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool,” was the stinging remark he heard flung at him. “Do you + want to play the police-officer here and arrest me in mid air?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brotherson, you understand me as little as I am supposed to + understand you. Humble as my place is in society and, I may add, in the + Department whose interests I serve, there are in me two men. One you know + passably well—the detective whose methods, only indifferently clever + show that he has very much to learn. Of the other—the workman + acquainted with hammer and saw, but with some knowledge too of higher + mathematics and the principles upon which great mechanical inventions + depend, you know little, and must imagine much. I was playing the gawky + when I helped you in the old house in Brooklyn. I was interested in your + air-ship—Oh, I recognised it for what it was, notwithstanding its + oddity and lack of ostensible means for flying—but I was not caught + in the whirl of its idea; the idea by which you doubtless expect, and with + very good reason too, to revolutionise the science of aviation. But since + then I’ve been thinking it over, and am so filled with your own hopes that + either I must have a hand in the finishing and sailing of the one you have + yourself constructed, or go to work myself on the hints you have + unconsciously given me, and make a car of my own.” + </p> + <p> + Audacity often succeeds where subtler means fail. Orlando, with a curious + twist of his strong lip, took hold of the detective’s arm and drew him in, + shutting and locking the door carefully behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said he, “you shall tell me what you think you have discovered, to + make any ideas of your own available in the manufacture of a superior + self-propelling air-ship.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater who had been so violently wheeled about in entering that he + stood with his back to the curtain concealing the car, answered without + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “You have a device, entirely new so far as I can judge, by which this car + can leap at once into space, hold its own in any direction, and alight + again upon any given spot without shock to the machine or danger to the + people controlling it.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain the device.” + </p> + <p> + “I will draw it.” + </p> + <p> + “You can?” + </p> + <p> + “As I see it.” + </p> + <p> + “As you see it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It’s a brilliant idea; I could never have conceived it.” + </p> + <p> + “You believe—” + </p> + <p> + “I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit here. Let’s see what you know.” + </p> + <p> + Sweetwater sat down at the table the other pointed out, and drawing + forward a piece of paper, took up a pencil with an easy air. Brotherson + approached and stood at his shoulder. He had taken up his pistol again, + why he hardly knew, and as Sweetwater began his marks, his fingers + tightened on its butt till they turned white in the murky lamplight. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” came in easy tones from the stooping draughtsman, “I have an + imagination which only needs a slight fillip from a mind like yours to + send it in the desired direction. I shall not draw an exact reproduction + of your idea, but I think you will see that I understand it very well. + How’s that for a start?” + </p> + <p> + Brotherson looked and hastily drew back. He did not want the other to note + his surprise. + </p> + <p> + “But that is a portion you never saw,” he loudly declared. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I saw this,” returned Sweetwater, working busily on some curves; + “and these gave me the fillip I mentioned. The rest came easily.” + </p> + <p> + Brotherson, in dread of his own anger, threw his pistol to the other end + of the shed: + </p> + <p> + “You knave! You thief!” he furiously cried. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked Sweetwater smilingly, rising and looking him calmly in the + face. “A thief is one who appropriates another man’s goods, or, let us + say, another man’s ideas. I have appropriated nothing yet. I’ve only shown + you how easily I could do so. Mr. Brotherson, take me in as your + assistant. I will be faithful to you, I swear it. I want to see that + machine go up.” + </p> + <p> + “For how many people have you drawn those lines?” thundered the inexorable + voice. + </p> + <p> + “For nobody; not for myself even. This is the first time they have left + their hiding-place in my brain.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you swear to that?” + </p> + <p> + “I can and will, if you require it. But you ought to believe my word, sir. + I am square as a die in all matters not connected—well, not + connected with my profession,” he smiled in a burst of that whimsical + humour, which not even the seriousness of the moment could quite suppress. + </p> + <p> + “And what surety have I that you do not consider this very matter of mine + as coming within the bounds you speak of?” + </p> + <p> + “None. But you must trust me that far.” + </p> + <p> + Brotherson surveyed him with an irony which conveyed a very different + message to the detective than any he had intended. Then quickly: + </p> + <p> + “To how many have you spoken, dilating upon this device, and publishing + abroad my secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I have spoken to no one, not even to Mr. Gryce. That shows my honesty as + nothing else can.” + </p> + <p> + “You have kept my secret intact?” + </p> + <p> + “Entirely so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “So that no one, here or elsewhere, shares our knowledge of the new points + in this mechanism?” + </p> + <p> + “I say so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then if I should kill you,” came in ferocious accents, “now—here—” + </p> + <p> + “You would be the only one to own that knowledge. But you won’t kill me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Need I go into reasons?” + </p> + <p> + “Why? I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the burden + of another unprovoked crime.” + </p> + <p> + Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man who + dared to face him with such an accusation. + </p> + <p> + “God! why didn’t I shoot you on entrance!” he cried. “Your courage is + certainly colossal.” + </p> + <p> + A fine smile, without even the hint of humour now, touched the daring + detective’s lip. Brotherson’s anger seemed to grow under it, and he loudly + repeated: + </p> + <p> + “It’s more than colossal; it’s abnormal and—” A moment’s pause, then + with ironic pauses—“and quite unnecessary save as a matter of + display, unless you think you need it to sustain you through the ordeal + you are courting. You wish to help me finish and prepare for flight?” + </p> + <p> + “I sincerely do.” + </p> + <p> + “You consider yourself competent?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + Brotherson’s eyes fell and he walked once to the extremity of the oval + flooring and back. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will grant that. But that’s not all that is necessary. My + requirements demand a companion in my first flight. Will you go up in the + car with me on Saturday night?” + </p> + <p> + A quick affirmative was on Sweetwater’s lips but the glimpse which he got + of the speaker’s face glowering upon him from the shadows into which + Brotherson had withdrawn, stopped its utterance, and the silence grew + heavy. Though it may not have lasted long by the clock, the instant of + breathless contemplation of each other’s features across the intervening + space was of incalculable moment to Sweetwater, and, possibly, to + Brotherson. As drowning men are said to live over their whole history + between their first plunge and their final rise to light and air, so + through the mind of the detective rushed the memories of his past and the + fast fading glories of his future; and rebelling at the subtle peril he + saw in that sardonic eye, he vociferated an impulsive: + </p> + <p> + “No! I’ll not—” and paused, caught by a new and irresistible + sensation. + </p> + <p> + A breath of wind—the first he had felt that night—had swept in + through some crevice in the curving wall, flapping the canvas enveloping + the great car. It acted like a peal to battle. After all, a man must take + some risks in his life, and his heart was in this trial of a redoubtable + mechanism in which he had full faith. He could not say no to the prospect + of being the first to share a triumph which would send his name to the + ends of the earth; and, changing the trend of his sentence, he repeated + with a calmness which had the force of a great decision. + </p> + <p> + “I will not fail you in anything. If she rises—” here his trembling + hand fell on the curtain shutting off his view of the ship, “she shall + take me with her, so that when she descends I may be the first to + congratulate the proud inventor of such a marvel.” + </p> + <p> + “So be it!” shot from the other’s lips, his eyes losing their threatening + look, and his whole countenance suddenly aglow with the enthusiasm of + awakened genius. + </p> + <p> + Coming from the shadows, he laid his hand on the cord regulating the rise + and fall of the concealing curtain. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is!” he cried and drew the cord. + </p> + <p> + The canvas shook, gathered itself into great folds and disappeared in the + shadows from which he had just stepped. + </p> + <p> + The air-car stood revealed—a startling, because wholly unique, + vision. + </p> + <p> + Long did Sweetwater survey it, then turning with beaming face upon the + watchful inventor, he uttered a loud Hurrah. + </p> + <p> + Next moment, with everything forgotten between them save the glories of + this invention, both dropped simultaneously to the floor and began that + minute examination of the mechanism necessary to their mutual work. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVII. HIS GREAT HOUR + </h2> + <h3> + Saturday night at eight o’clock. + </h3> + <p> + So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account of + weather. + </p> + <p> + As Oswald came from his supper and took a look at the heavens from the + small front porch, he was deeply troubled that Orlando had remained so + obstinate on this point. For there were ominous clouds rolling up from the + east, and the storms in this region of high mountains and abrupt valleys + were not light, nor without danger even to those with feet well planted + upon mother earth. + </p> + <p> + If the tempest should come up before eight! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner, who, from some mysterious impulse of bravado on the part of + Brotherson, was to be allowed to make the third in this small band of + spectators, was equally concerned at this sight, but not for Brotherson. + His fears were for Oswald, whose slowly gathering strength could illy bear + the strain which this additional anxiety for his brother’s life must + impose upon him. As for Doris, she was in a state of excitement more + connected with the past than with the future. That afternoon she had laid + her hand in that of Orlando Brotherson, and wished him well. She! in whose + breast still lingered reminiscences of those old doubts which had + beclouded his image for her at their first meeting. She had not been able + to avoid it. His look was a compelling one, and it had demanded thus much + from her; and—a terrible thought to her gentle spirit—he might + be going to his death! + </p> + <p> + It had been settled by the prospective aviator that they were to watch for + the ascent from the mouth of the grassy road leading in to the hangar. The + three were to meet there at a quarter to eight and await the stroke and + the air-cars rise. That time was near, and Mr. Challoner, catching a + glimpse of Oswald’s pallid and unnaturally drawn features, as he set down + the lantern he carried, shuddered with foreboding and wished the hour + passed. + </p> + <p> + Doris’ watchful glance never left the face whose lightest change was more + to her than all Orlando’s hopes. But the result upon her was not to weaken + her resolution, but to strengthen it. Whatever the outcome of the next few + minutes, she must stand ready to sustain her invalid through it. That the + darkness of early evening had deepened to oppression, was unnoticed for + the moment. The fears of an hour past had been forgotten. Their attention + was too absorbed in what was going on before them, for even a glance + overhead. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mr. Challoner spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the man whom Mr. Brotherson has asked to go up with him?” + </p> + <p> + It was Oswald who answered. + </p> + <p> + “He has never told me. He has kept his own counsel about that as about + everything else connected with this matter. He simply advised me that I + was not to bother about him any more; that he had found the assistant he + wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Such reticence seems unpardonable. You have—displayed great + patience, Oswald.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I understand Orlando. He reads men’s natures like a book. The man + he trusts, we may trust. To-morrow, he will speak openly enough. All cause + for reticence will be gone.” + </p> + <p> + “You have confidence then in the success of this undertaking?” + </p> + <p> + “If I hadn’t, I should not be here. I could hardly bear to witness his + failure, even in a secret test like this. I should find it too hard to + face him afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Orlando has great pride. If this enterprise fails I cannot answer for + him. He would be capable of anything. Why, Doris! what is the matter, + child? I never saw you look like that before.” + </p> + <p> + She had been down on her knees regulating the lantern, and the sudden + flame, shooting up, had shown him her face turned up towards his in an + apprehension which verged on horror. + </p> + <p> + “Do I look frightened?” she asked, remembering herself and lightly rising. + “I believe that I am a little frightened. If—if anything should go + wrong! If an accident-” But here she remembered herself again and quickly + changed her tone. “But your confidence shall be mine. I will believe in + his good angel or—or in his self-command and great resolution. I’ll + not be frightened any more.” + </p> + <p> + But Oswald did not seem satisfied. He continued to look at her in vague + concern. + </p> + <p> + He hardly knew what to make of the intense feeling she had manifested. Had + Orlando touched her girlish heart? Had this cold-blooded nature, with its + steel-like brilliancy and honourable but stern views of life, moved this + warm and sympathetic soul to more than admiration? The thought disturbed + him so he forgot the nearness of the moment they were all awaiting till a + quick rasping sound from the hangar, followed by the sudden appearance of + an ever-widening band of light about its upper rim, drew his attention and + awakened them all to a breathless expectation. + </p> + <p> + The lid was rising. Now it was half-way up, and now, for the first time, + it was lifted to its full height and stood a broad oval disc against the + background of the forest. The effect was strange. The hangar had been made + brilliant by many lamps, and their united glare pouring from its top and + illuminating not only the surrounding treetops but the broad face of this + uplifted disc, roused in the awed spectator a thrill such as in + mythological times might have greeted the sudden sight of Vulcan’s smithy + blazing on Olympian hills. But the clang of iron on iron would have + attended the flash and gleam of those unexpected fires, and here all was + still save for that steady throb never heard in Olympus or the halls of + Valhalla, the pant of the motor eager for flight in the upper air. + </p> + <p> + As they listened in a trance of burning hope which obliterated all else, + this noise and all others near and distant, was suddenly lost in a loud + clatter of writhing and twisting boughs which set the forest in a roar and + seemed to heave the air about them. + </p> + <p> + A wind had swooped down from the east, bending everything before it and + rattling the huge oval on which their eyes were fixed as though it would + tear it from its hinges. + </p> + <p> + The three caught at each other’s hands in dismay. The storm had come just + on the verge of the enterprise, and no one might guess the result. + </p> + <p> + “Will he dare? Will he dare?” whispered Doris, and Oswald answered, though + it seemed next to impossible that he could have heard her: + </p> + <p> + “He will dare. But will he survive it? Mr. Challoner,” he suddenly shouted + in that gentleman’s ear, “what time is it now?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner, disengaging himself from their mutual grasp, knelt down by + the lantern to consult his watch. + </p> + <p> + “One minute to eight,” he shouted back. + </p> + <p> + The forest was now a pandemonium. Great boughs, split from their parent + trunks, fell crashing to the ground in all directions. The scream of the + wind roused echoes which repeated themselves, here, there and everywhere. + No rain had fallen yet, but the sight of the clouds skurrying pell-mell + through the glare thrown up from the shed, created such havoc in the + already overstrained minds of the three onlookers, that they hardly + heeded, when with a clatter and crash which at another time would have + startled them into flight, the swaying oval before them was whirled from + its hinges and thrown back against the trees already bending under the + onslaught of the tempest. Destruction seemed the natural accompaniment of + the moment, and the only prayer which sprang to Oswald’s lips was that the + motor whose throb yet lingered in their blood though no longer taken in by + the ear, would either refuse to work or prove insufficient to lift the + heavy car into this seething tumult of warring forces. His brother’s life + hung in the balance against his fame, and he could not but choose life for + him. Yet, as the multitudinous sounds about him yielded for a moment to + that brother’s shout, and he knew that the moment had come, which would + soon settle all, he found himself staring at the elliptical edge of the + hangar, with an anticipation which held in it as much terror as joy, for + the end of a great hope or the beginning of a great triumph was compressed + into this trembling instant and if— + </p> + <p> + Great God! he sees it! They all see it! Plainly against that portion of + the disc which still lifted itself above the further wall, a curious + moving mass appears, lengthens, takes on shape, then shoots suddenly + aloft, clearing the encircling tops of the bending, twisting and tormented + trees, straight into the heart of the gale, where for one breathless + moment it whirls madly about like a thing distraught, then in slow but + triumphant obedience to the master hand that guides it, steadies and + mounts majestically upward till it is lost to their view in the depths of + impenetrable darkness. + </p> + <p> + Orlando Brotherson has accomplished his task. He has invented a mechanism + which can send an air-car straight up from its mooring place. As the three + watchers realise this, Oswald utters a cry of triumph, and Doris throws + herself into Mr. Challoner’s arms. Then they all stand transfixed again, + waiting for a descent which may never come. + </p> + <p> + But hark! a new sound, mingling its clatter with all the others. It is the + rain. Quick, maddening, drenching, it comes; enveloping them in wet in a + moment. Can they hold their faces up against it? + </p> + <p> + And the wind! Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before it and + fling it back to earth, a broken and despised toy. + </p> + <p> + “Orlando?” went up in a shriek. “Orlando?” Oh, for a ray of light in those + far-off heavens For a lull in the tremendous sounds shivering the heavens + and shaking the earth! But the tempest rages on, and they can only wait, + five minutes, ten minutes, looking, hoping, fearing, without thought of + self and almost without thought of each other, till suddenly as it had + come, the rain ceases and the wind, with one final wail of rage and + defeat, rushes away into the west, leaving behind it a sudden silence + which, to their terrified hearts, seems almost more dreadful to bear than + the accumulated noises of the moment just gone. + </p> + <p> + Orlando was in that shout of natural forces, but he is not in this + stillness. They look aloft, but the heavens are void. Emptiness is where + life was. Oswald begins to sway, and Doris, remembering him now and him + only, has thrown her strong young arm about him, when—What is this + sound they hear high up, high up, in the rapidly clearing vault of the + heavens! A throb—a steady pant,—drawing near and yet nearer,—entering + the circlet of great branches over their heads—descending, slowly + descending,—till they catch another glimpse of those hazy outlines + which had no sooner taken shape than the car disappeared from their sight + within the elliptical wall open to receive it. + </p> + <p> + It had survived the gale! It has re-entered its haven, and that, too, + without colliding with aught around or any shock to those within, just as + Orlando had promised; and the world was henceforth his! Hail to Orlando + Brotherson! + </p> + <p> + Oswald could hardly restrain his mad joy and enthusiasm. Bounding to the + door separating him from this conqueror of almost invincible forces, he + pounded it with impatient fist. + </p> + <p> + “Let me in!” he cried. “You’ve done the trick, Orlando, you’ve done the + trick.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have satisfied myself,” came back in studied self-control from the + other side of the door; and with a quick turning of the lock, Orlando + stood before them. + </p> + <p> + They never forgot him as he looked at that moment. He was drenched, + battered, palpitating with excitement; but the majesty of success was in + his eye and in the bearing of his incomparable figure. + </p> + <p> + As Oswald bounded towards him, he reached out his hand, but his glance was + for Doris. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he went on, in tones of suppressed elation, “there’s no flaw in my + triumph. I have done all that I set out to do. Now—” + </p> + <p> + Why did he stop and look hurriedly back into the hangar? He had remembered + Sweetwater. Sweetwater, who at that moment was stepping carefully from his + seat in some remote portion of the car. The triumph was not complete. He + had meant— + </p> + <p> + But there his thought stopped. Nothing of evil, nothing even of regret + should mar his great hour. He was a conqueror, and it was for him now to + reap the joy of conquest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXVIII. NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Three days had passed, and Orlando Brotherson sat in his room at the hotel + before a table laden with telegrams, letters and marked newspapers. The + news of his achievement had gone abroad, and Derby was, for the moment, + the centre of interest for two continents. + </p> + <p> + His success was an established fact. The second trial which he had made + with his car, this time with the whole town gathered together in the + streets as witnesses, had proved not only the reliability of its + mechanism, but the great advantages which it possessed for a direct flight + to any given point. Already he saw Fortune beckoning to him in the shape + of an unconditional offer of money from a first-class source; and better + still,—for he was a man of untiring energy and boundless resource—that + opportunity for new and enlarged effort which comes with the recognition + of one’s exceptional powers. + </p> + <p> + All this was his and more. A sweeter hope, a more enduring joy had + followed hard upon gratified ambition. Doris had smiled on him;—Doris! + She had caught the contagion of the universal enthusiasm and had given him + her first ungrudging token of approval. It had altered his whole outlook + on life in an instant, for there was an eagerness in this demonstration + which proclaimed the relieved heart. She no longer trusted either + appearances or her dream. He had succeeded in conquering her doubts by the + very force of his personality, and the shadow which had hitherto darkened + their intercourse had melted quite away. She was ready to take his word + now and Oswald’s, after which the rest must follow. Love does not lag far + behind an ardent admiration. + </p> + <p> + Fame! Fortune! Love! What more could a man desire? What more could this + man, with his strenuous past and an unlimited capacity for an enlarged + future, ask from fate than this. Yet, as he bends over his letters, + fingering some, but reading none beyond a line or two, he betrays but a + passing elation, and hardly lifts his head when a burst of loud acclaim + comes ringing up to his window from some ardent passer-by: “Hurrah for + Brotherson! He has put our town on the map!” + </p> + <p> + Why this despondency? Have those two demons seized him again? It would + seem so and with new and overmastering fury. After the hour of triumph + comes the hour of reckoning. Orlando Brotherson in his hour of proud + attainment stands naked before his own soul’s tribunal and the pleader is + dumb and the judge inexorable. There is but one Witness to such struggles; + but one eye to note the waste and desolation of the devastated soul, when + the storm is over past. + </p> + <p> + Orlando Brotherson has succumbed; the attack was too keen, his forces too + shaken. But as the heavy minutes pass, he slowly re-gathers his strength + and rises, in the end, a conqueror. Nevertheless, he knows, even in that + moment of regained command, that the peace he had thus bought with strain + and stress is but momentary; that the battle is on for life: that the days + which to other eyes would carry a sense of brilliancy—days teeming + with work and outward satisfaction—would hold within their hidden + depths a brooding uncertainty which would rob applause of its music and + even overshadow the angel face of Love. + </p> + <p> + He quailed at the prospect, materialist though he was. The days—the + interminable days! In his unbroken strength and the glare of the noonday + sun, he forgot to take account of the nights looming in black and endless + procession before him. It was from the day phantom he shrank, and not from + the ghoul which works in the darkness and makes a grave of the heart while + happier mortals sleep. + </p> + <p> + And the former terror seemed formidable enough to him in this his hour of + startling realisation, even if he had freed himself for the nonce from its + controlling power. To escape all further contemplation of it he would + work. These letters deserved attention. He would carry them to Oswald, and + in their consideration find distraction for the rest of the day, at least. + Oswald was a good fellow. If pleasure were to be gotten from these tokens + of good-will, he should have his share of it. A gleam of Oswald’s old + spirit in Oswald’s once bright eye, would go far towards throttling one of + those demons whose talons he had just released from his throat; and if + Doris responded too, he would deserve his fate, if he did not succeed in + gaining that mastery of himself which would make such hours as these but + episodes in a life big with interest and potent with great emotions. + </p> + <p> + Rising with a resolute air, he made a bundle of his papers and, with them + in hand, passed out of his room and down the hotel stairs. + </p> + <p> + A man stood directly in his way, as he made for the front door. It was Mr. + Challoner. + </p> + <p> + Courtesy demanded some show of recognition between them, and Brotherson + was passing with his usual cold bow, when a sudden impulse led him to + pause and meet the other’s eye, with the sarcastic remark: + </p> + <p> + “You have expressed, or so I have been told, some surprise at my choice of + mechanician. A man of varied accomplishments, Mr. Challoner, but one for + whom I have no further use. If, therefore, you wish to call off your + watch-dog, you are at liberty to do so. I hardly think he can be + serviceable to either of us much longer.” + </p> + <p> + The older gentleman hesitated, seeking possibly for composure, and when he + answered it was not only without irony but with a certain forced respect: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sweetwater has just left for New York, Mr. Brotherson. He will carry + with him, no doubt, the full particulars of your great success.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando bowed, this time with distinguished grace. Not a flicker of relief + had disturbed the calm serenity of his aspect, yet when a moment later, he + stepped among his shouting admirers in the street, his air and glance + betrayed a bounding joy for which another source must be found than that + of gratified pride. A chain had slipped from his spirit, and though the + people shrank a little, even while they cheered, it was rather from awe of + his bearing and the recognition of that sense of apartness which underlay + his smile than from any perception of the man’s real nature or of the + awesome purpose which at that moment exalted it. But had they known—could + they have seen into this tumultuous heart—what a silence would have + settled upon these noisy streets; and in what terror and soul-confusion + would each man have slunk away from his fellows into the quiet and + solitude of his own home. + </p> + <p> + Brotherson himself was not without a sense of the incongruity underlying + this ovation; for, as he slowly worked himself along, the brightness of + his look became dimmed with a tinge of sarcasm which in its turn gave way + to an expression of extreme melancholy—both quite unbefitting the + hero of the hour in the first flush of his new-born glory. Had he seen + Doris’ youthful figure emerge for a moment from the vine-hung porch he was + approaching, bringing with it some doubt of the reception awaiting him? + Possibly, for he made a stand before he reached the house, and sent his + followers back; after which he advanced with an unhurrying step, so that + several minutes elapsed before he finally drew up before Mr. Scott’s door + and entered through the now empty porch into his brother’s sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + He had meant to see Doris first, but his mind had changed. If all passed + off well between himself and Oswald, if he found his brother responsive + and wide-awake to the interests and necessities of the hour, he might + forego his interview with her till he felt better prepared to meet it. For + call it cowardice or simply a reasonable precaution, any delay seemed + preferable to him in his present mood of discouragement, to that final + casting of the die upon which hung so many and such tremendous issues. It + was the first moment of real halt in his whole tumultuous life! Never, as + daring experimentalist or agitator, had he shrunk from danger seen or + unseen or from threat uttered or unuttered, as he shrank from this young + girl’s no; and something of the dread he had felt lest he should encounter + her unaware in the hall and so be led on to speak when his own judgment + bade him be silent, darkened his features as he entered his brother’s + presence. + </p> + <p> + But Oswald was sunk in a bitter revery of his own, and took no heed of + these signs of depression. In the re-action following these days of great + excitement, the past had re-asserted itself, and all was gloom in his once + generous soul. This, Orlando had time to perceive, quick as the change + came when his brother really realised who his visitor was. The glad + “Orlando!” and the forced smile did not deceive him, and his voice + quavered a trifle as he held out his packet with the words: + </p> + <p> + “I have come to show you what the world says of my invention. We will soon + be great men,” he emphasised, as Oswald opened the letters. “Money has + been offered me and—Read! read!” he urged, with an unconscious + dictatorialness, as Oswald paused in his task. “See what the fates have + prepared for us; for you shall share all my honours, as you will from this + day share my work and enter into all my experiments. Cannot you enthuse a + little bit over it? Doesn’t the prospect contain any allurement for you? + Would you rather stay locked up in this petty town—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; or—die. Don’t look like that, Orlando. It was a cowardly + speech and I ask your pardon. I’m hardly fit to talk to-day. Edith—” + </p> + <p> + Orlando frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Not that name!” he harshly interrupted. “You must not hamper your life + with useless memories. That dream of yours may be sacred, but it belongs + to the past, and a great reality confronts you. When you have fully + recovered your health, your own manhood will rebel at a weakness unworthy + one of our name. Rouse yourself, Oswald. Take account of our prospects. + Give me your hand and say, ‘Life holds something for me yet. I have a + brother who needs me if I do not need him. Together, we can prove + ourselves invincible and wrench fame and fortune from the world.’” + </p> + <p> + But the hand he reached for did not rise at his command, though Oswald + started erect and faced him with manly earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “I should have to think long and deeply,” he said, “before I took upon + myself responsibilities like these. I am broken in mind and heart, + Orlando, and must remain so till God mercifully delivers me. I should be a + poor assistant to you—a drag, rather than a help. Deeply as I + deplore it, hard as it may be for one of your temperament to understand so + complete an overthrow, I yet must acknowledge my condition and pray you + not to count upon me in any plans you may form. I know how this looks—I + know that as your brother and truest admirer, I should respond, and + respond strongly, to such overtures as these, but the motive for + achievement is gone. She was my all; and while I might work, it would be + mechanically. The lift, the elevating thought is gone.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando stood a moment studying his brother’s face; then he turned shortly + about and walked the length of the room. When he came back, he took up his + stand again directly before Oswald, and asked, with a new note in his + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Did you love Edith Challoner so much as that?” + </p> + <p> + A glance from Oswald’s eye, sadder than any tear. + </p> + <p> + “So that you cannot be reconciled?” + </p> + <p> + A gesture. Oswald’s words were always few. + </p> + <p> + Orlando’s frown deepened. + </p> + <p> + “Such grief I partly understand,” said he. “But time will cure it. Some + day another lovely face—” + </p> + <p> + “We’ll not talk of that, Orlando.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we’ll not talk of that,” acquiesced the inventor, walking away again, + this time to the window. “For you there’s but one woman;—and she’s a + memory.” + </p> + <p> + “Killed!” broke from his brother’s lips. “Slain by her own hand under an + impulse of wildness and terror! Can I ever forget that? Do not expect it, + Orlando.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you do blame me?” Orlando turned and was looking full at Oswald. + </p> + <p> + “I blame your unreasonableness and your overweening pride.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando stood a moment, then moved towards the door. The heaviness of his + step smote upon Oswald’s ear and caused him to exclaim: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Orlando.” But the other cut him short with an imperative: + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for your candour! If her spirit is destined to stand like an + immovable shadow between you and me, you do right to warn me. But this + interview must end all allusion to the subject. I will seek and find + another man to share my fortunes; (as he said this he approached suddenly, + and took his papers from the other’s hand) or—” Here he hastily + retraced his steps to the door which he softly opened. “Or” he repeated—But + though Oswald listened for the rest, it did not come. While he waited, the + other had given him one deeply concentrated look and passed out. + </p> + <p> + No heartfelt understanding was possible between these two men. + </p> + <p> + Crossing the hall, Orlando knocked at the door of Doris’ little + sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + No answer, yet she was there. He knew it in every throbbing fibre of his + body. She was there and quite aware of his presence; of this he felt sure; + yet she did not bid him enter. Should he knock again? Never! but he would + not quit the threshold, not if she kept him waiting there for hours. + Perhaps she realised this. Perhaps she had meant to open the door to him + from the very first, who can tell? What avails is that she did ultimately + open it, and he, meeting her soft eye, wished from his very heart that his + impulse had led him another way, even if that way had been to the edge of + the precipice—and over. + </p> + <p> + For the face he looked upon was serene, and there was no serenity in him; + rather a confusion of unloosed passions fearful of barrier and yearning + tumultuously for freedom. But, whatever his revolt, the secret revolt + which makes no show in look or movement, he kept his ground and forced a + smile of greeting. If her face was quiet, it was also lovely;—too + lovely, he felt, for a man to leave it, whatever might come of his + lingering. + </p> + <p> + Nothing in all his life had ever affected him like it. For him there was + no other woman in the past, the present or the future, and, realising this—taking + in to the full what her affection and her trust might be to him in those + fearsome days to come, he so dreaded a rebuff—he, who had been the + courted of women and the admired of men ever since he could remember,—that + he failed to respond to her welcome and the simple congratulations she + felt forced to repeat. He could neither speak the commonplace, nor listen + to it. This was his crucial hour. He must find support here, or yield + hopelessly to the maelstrom in whose whirl he was caught. + </p> + <p> + She saw his excitement and faltered back a step—a move which she + regretted the next minute, for he took advantage of it to enter and close + behind him the door which she would never have shut of her own accord. + Then he spoke, abruptly, passionately, but in those golden tones which no + emotion could render other than alluring: + </p> + <p> + “I am an unhappy man, Miss Scott. I see that my presence here is not + welcome, yet am sure that it would be so if it were not for a prejudice + which your generous nature should be the first to cast aside, in face of + the outspoken confidence of my brother: Oswald. Doris, little Doris, I + love you. I have loved you from the moment of our first meeting. Not to + many men is it given to find his heart so late, and when he does, it is + for his whole life; no second passion can follow it. I know that I am + premature in saying this; that you are not prepared to hear such words + from me and that it might be wiser for me to withhold them, but I must + leave Derby soon, and I cannot go until I know whether there is the least + hope that you will yet lend a light to my career or whether that career + must burn itself to ashes at your feet. Oswald—nay, hear me out—Oswald + lives in his memories; but I must have an active hope—a tangible + expectation—if I am to be the man I was meant to be. Will you, then, + coldly dismiss me, or will you let my whole future life prove to you the + innocence of my past? I will not hasten anything; all I ask is some + indulgence. Time will do the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + But that was a word for which he had no ear. He saw that she was moved, + unexpectedly so; that while her eyes wandered restlessly at times towards + the door, they ever came back in girlish wonder, if not fascination, to + his face, emboldening him so that he ventured at last, to add: + </p> + <p> + “Doris, little Doris, I will teach you a marvellous lesson, if you will + only turn your dainty ear my way. Love such as mine carries infinite + treasure with it. Will you have that treasure heaped, piled before your + feet? Your lips say no, but your eyes—the truest eyes I ever saw—whisper + a different language. The day will come when you will find your joy in the + breast of him you are now afraid to trust.” And not waiting for disclaimer + or even a glance of reproach from the eyes he had so wilfully misread, he + withdrew with a movement as abrupt as that with which he had entered. + </p> + <p> + Why, then, with the memory of this exultant hour to fend off all shadows, + did the midnight find him in his solitary hangar in the moonlit woods, a + deeply desponding figure again. Beside him, swung the huge machine which + represented a life of power and luxury; but he no longer saw it. It called + to him with many a creak and quiet snap,—sounds to start his blood + and fire his eye a week—nay, a day ago. But he was deaf to this + music now; the call went unheeded; the future had no further meaning, for + him, nor did he know or think whether he sat in light or in darkness; + whether the woods were silent about him, or panting with life and sound. + His demon had gripped him again and the final battle was on. There would + never be another. Mighty as he felt himself to be, there were limits even + to his capacity for endurance. He could sustain no further conflict. How + then would it end? He never had a doubt himself! Yet he sat there. + </p> + <p> + Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable small + things without a name, skurried from lair to lair. + </p> + <p> + He heard them not. + </p> + <p> + Above, the moon rode, flecking the deepest shadows with the silver from + her half-turned urn, but none of the soft and healing drops fell upon him. + Nature was no longer a goddess, but an avenger; light a revealer, not a + solace. Darkness the only boon. + </p> + <p> + Nor had time a meaning. From early eve to early morn he sat there and knew + not if it were one hour or twelve. Earth was his no longer. He roused, + when the sun made everything light about him, but he did not think about + it. He rose, but was not conscious that he rose. He unlocked the door and + stepped out into the forest; but he could never remember doing this. He + only knew later that he had been in the woods and now was in his room at + the hotel; all the rest was phantasmagoria, agony and defeat. + </p> + <p> + He had crossed the Rubicon of this world’s hopes and fears, but he had + been unconscious of the passage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXXIX. THE AVENGER + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear Mr. Challoner: + + “With every apology for the intrusion, may I request + a few minutes of private conversation with you this evening + at seven o’clock? Let it be in your own room. + + “Yours truly, + + “ORLANDO BROTHERSON.” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and heartrending + duties since the blow which had desolated his home fell upon him. + </p> + <p> + But from none of them had he shrunk as he did from the interview thus + demanded. He had supposed himself rid of this man. He had dismissed him + from his life when he had dismissed Sweetwater. His face, accordingly, + wore anything but a propitiatory look, when promptly at the hour of seven, + Orlando Brotherson entered his apartments. + </p> + <p> + His pleasure or his displeasure was, however, a matter of small + consequence to his self-invited visitor. He had come there with a set + purpose, and nothing in heaven or earth could deter him from it now. + Declining the offer of a seat, with the slightest of acknowledgments in + the way of a bow, he took a careful survey of the room before saying: + </p> + <p> + “Are we alone, Mr. Challoner, or is that man Sweetwater lurking somewhere + within hearing?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sweetwater is gone, as I had the honour of telling you yesterday,” + was the somewhat stiff reply. “There are no witnesses to this conference, + if that is what you wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, but you will pardon my insistence if I request the privilege + of closing that door.” He pointed to the one communicating with the + bedroom. “The information I have to give you is not such as I am willing + to have shared, at least for the present.” + </p> + <p> + “You may close the door,” said Mr. Challoner coldly. “But is it necessary + for you to give me the information you mention, to-night? If it is of such + a nature that you cannot accord me the privilege of sharing it, as yet, + with others, why not spare me till you can? I have gone through much, Mr. + Brotherson.” + </p> + <p> + “You have,” came in steady assent as the man thus addressed stepped to the + door he had indicated and quietly closed it. “But,” he continued, as he + crossed back to his former position, “would it be easier for you to go + through the night now in anticipation of what I have to reveal than to + hear it at once from my lips while I am in the mood to speak?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was slow in coming. The courage which had upheld this rapidly + aging man through so many trying interviews, seemed inadequate for the + test put so cruelly upon it. He faltered and sank heavily into a chair, + while the stern man watching him, gave no signs of responsive sympathy or + even interest, only a patient and icy-tempered resolve. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot live in uncertainty;” such were finally Mr. Challoner’s words. + “What you have to say concerns Edith?” The pause he made was infinitesimal + in length, but it was long enough for a quick disclaimer. But no such + disclaimer came. “I will hear it,” came in reluctant finish. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brotherson took a step forward. His manner was as cold as the heart + which lay like a stone in his bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Will you pardon me if I ask you to rise?” said he. “I have my weaknesses + too.” (He gave no sign of them.) “I cannot speak down from such a height + to the man I am bound to hurt.” + </p> + <p> + As if answering to the constraint of a will quite outside his own, Mr. + Challoner rose. Their heads were now more nearly on a level and Mr. + Brotherson’s voice remained low, as he proceeded, with quiet intensity. + </p> + <p> + “There has been a time—and it may exist yet, God knows—when + you thought me in some unknown and secret way the murderer of your + daughter. I do not quarrel with the suspicion; it was justified, Mr. + Challoner. I did kill your daughter, and with this hand! I can no longer + deny it.” + </p> + <p> + The wretched father swayed, following the gesture of the hand thus held + out; but he did not fall, nor did a sound leave his lips. + </p> + <p> + Brotherson went coldly on: + </p> + <p> + “I did it because I regarded her treatment of my suit as insolent. I have + no mercy for any such display of intolerance on the part of the rich and + the fortunate. I hated her for it; I hated her class, herself and all she + stood for. To strike the dealer of such a hurt I felt to be my right. + Though a man of small beginnings and of a stock which such as you call + common, I have a pride which few of your blood can equal. I could not + work, or sleep or eat with such a sting in my breast as she had planted + there. To rid myself of it, I determined to kill her, and I did. How? Oh, + that was easy, though it has proved a great stumbling-block to the + detectives, as I knew it would! I shot her—but not with an ordinary + bullet. My charge was a small icicle made deliberately for the purpose. It + had strength enough to penetrate, but it left no trace behind it. ‘A + bullet of ice for a heart of ice,’ I had said in the torment of my rage. + But the word was without knowledge, Mr. Challoner. I see it now; I have + seen it for two whole weeks. I did not misjudge her condemnation of me, + but I misjudged its cause. It was not to the comparatively poor, the + comparatively obscure man she sought to show contempt, but to the brother + of Oswald whose claims she saw insulted. A woman I should have respected, + not killed. A woman of no pride of station; a woman who loved a man not + only of my own class but of my own blood—a woman, to avenge whose + unmerited death I stand here before you a self-condemned criminal. That is + but justice, Mr. Challoner. That is the way I look at things. Though no + sentimentalist; and dead to all beliefs save the eternal truths of + science, I have that in me which will not let me profit, now that I know + myself unworthy, by the great success I have earned. Hence this + confession, Mr. Challoner. It has not come easily, nor do I shut my eyes + in the least to the results which must follow. But I can not do + differently. To-morrow, you may telegraph to New York. Till then I desire + to be left undisturbed. I have many things to dispose of in the interim.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner, very white by now, pointed to the door before he sank again + into his chair. Brotherson took it for dismissal and stepped slowly back. + Then their eyes met again and Mr. Challoner spoke his first word: + </p> + <p> + “There was another—a poor woman—she died suddenly—and + her wound was not unlike that inflicted upon Edith. Did you—” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” The answer came without a tremour. “You may say and so may others + that I was less justified in this attack than in the other; but I do not + see it that way. A theory does not always work in practice. I wished to + test the unusual means I contemplated, and the woman I saw before me + across the court was hard-working and with nothing in life to look forward + to, so—” + </p> + <p> + A cry of bitter execration from Mr. Challoner cut him short. Turning with + a shrug he was about to lift his hand to the door, when he gave a violent + start and fell hastily back before a quickly entering figure of such + passion and fury as neither of these men had ever seen before. + </p> + <p> + It was Oswald! Oswald, the kindly! Oswald, the lover of men and the adorer + of women! Oswald, with the words of the dastardly confession he had partly + overheard searing hot within his brain! Oswald, raised in a moment from + the desponding invalid to a terrifying ministrant of retributive justice. + </p> + <p> + Orlando could scarcely raise his hand before the other’s was upon his + throat. + </p> + <p> + “Murderer! doubly-dyed murderer of innocent women!” was hissed in the + strong man’s ears. “Not with the law but with me you must reckon, and may + God and the spirit of my mother nerve my arm!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XL. DESOLATE + </h2> + <p> + The struggle was fierce but momentary. Oswald with his weakened powers + could not long withstand the steady exertion of Orlando’s giant strength, + and ere long sank away from the contest into Mr. Challoner’s arms. + </p> + <p> + “You should not have summoned the shade of our mother to your aid,” + observed the other with a smile, in which the irony was lost in terrible + presage. “I was always her favourite.” + </p> + <p> + Oswald shuddered. Orlando had spoken truly; she had always been blindly, + arrogantly trustful of her eldest son. No fault could she see in him; and + now— + </p> + <p> + Impetuously Oswald struggled with his weakness, raised himself in Mr. + Challoner’s arms and cried in loud revolt: + </p> + <p> + “But God is just. He will not let you escape. If He does, I will not. I + will hound you to the ends of this earth and, if necessary, into the + eternities. Not with the threat of my arm—you are my master there, + but with the curse of a brother who believed you innocent of his darling’s + blood and would have believed you so in face of everything but your own + word.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace!” adjured Orlando. “There is no account I am not ready to settle. I + have robbed you of the woman you love, but I have despoiled myself. I + stand desolate in the world, who but an hour ago could have chosen my seat + among the best and greatest. What can your curses do after that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” The word came slowly like a drop wrung from a nearly spent + heart. “Nothing; nothing. Oh, Orlando, I wish we were both dead and buried + and that there were no further life for either of us.” + </p> + <p> + The softened tone, the wistful prayer which would blot out an immortality + of joy for the one, that it might save the other from an immortality of + retribution, touched some long unsounded chord in Orlando’s extraordinary + nature. + </p> + <p> + Advancing a step, he held out his hand—the left one. “We’ll leave + the future to itself, Oswald, and do what we can with the present,” said + he. “I’ve made a mess of my life and spoiled a career which might have + made us both kings. Forgive me, Oswald. I ask for nothing else from God or + man. I should like that. It would strengthen me for to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + But Oswald, ever kindly, generous and more ready to think of others than + of himself, had yet some of Orlando’s tenacity. He gazed at that hand and + a flush swept up over his cheek which instantly became ghastly again. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” said he—“not even the left one. May God forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + Orlando, struck silent for a moment, dropped his hand and slowly turned + away. Mr. Challoner felt Oswald stiffen in his arms, and break suddenly + away, only to stop short before he had taken one of the half dozen steps + between himself and his departing brother. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” he demanded in tones which made Orlando turn. + </p> + <p> + “I might say, To the devil,” was the sarcastic reply. “But I doubt if he + would receive me. No,” he added, in more ordinary tones as the other + shivered and again started forward, “you will have no trouble in finding + me in my own room to-night. I have letters to write and—other + things. A man like me cannot drop out without a ripple. You may go to bed + and sleep. I will keep awake for two.” + </p> + <p> + “Orlando!” Visions were passing before Oswald’s eyes, soul-crushing + visions such as in his blameless life he never thought could enter into + his consciousness or blast his tranquil outlook upon life. “Orlando!” he + again appealed, covering his eyes in a frenzied attempt to shut out these + horrors, “I cannot let you go like this. To-morrow—” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, in every niche and corner of this world, wherever Edith + Challoner’s name has gone, wherever my name has gone, it will be known + that the discoverer of a practical air-ship, is a man whom they can no + longer honour. Do you think that is not hell enough for me; or that I do + not realise the hell it will be for you? I’ve never wearied you or any man + with my affection; but I’m not all demon. I would gladly have spared you + this additional anguish; but that was impossible. You are my brother and + must suffer from the connection whether we would have it so or not. If it + promises too much misery—and I know no misery like that of shame—come + with me where I go to-morrow. There will be room for two.” + </p> + <p> + Oswald, swaying with weakness, but maddened by the sight of an overthrow + which carried with it the stifled affections and the admiration of his + whole life, gave a bound forward, opened his arms and—fell. + </p> + <p> + Orlando stopped short. Gazing down on his prostrate brother, he stood for + a moment with a gleam of something like human tenderness showing through + the flare of dying passions and perishing hopes; then he swung open the + door and passed quietly out, and Mr. Challoner could hear the laughing + remark with which he met and dismissed the half-dozen men and women who + had been drawn to this end of the hall by what had sounded to them like a + fracas between angry men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLI. FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING + </h2> + <p> + The clock in the hotel office struck three. Orlando Brotherson counted the + strokes; then went on writing. His transom was partly open and he had just + heard a step go by his door. This was nothing new. He had already heard it + several times before that night. It was Mr. Challoner’s step, and every + time it passed, he had rustled his papers or scratched vigorously with his + pen. “He is keeping watch for Oswald,” was his thought. “They fear a + sudden end to this. No one, not the son of my mother knows me. Do I know + myself?” + </p> + <p> + Four o’clock! The light was still burning, the pile of letters he was + writing increasing. + </p> + <p> + Five o’clock! A rattling shade betrays an open window. No other sound + disturbs the quiet of the room. It is empty now; but Mr. Challoner, long + since satisfied that all was well, goes by no more. Silence has settled + upon the hotel;—that heavy silence which precedes the dawn. + </p> + <p> + There was silence in the streets also. The few who were abroad, crept + quietly along. An electric storm was in the air and the surcharged clouds + hung heavy and low, biding the moment of outbreak. A man who had left a + place of many shadows for the more open road, paused and looked up at + these clouds; then went calmly on. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the shriek of an approaching train tears through the valley. Has + it a call for this man? No. Yet he pauses in the midst of the street he is + crossing and watches, as a child might watch, for the flash of its lights + at the end of the darkened vista. It comes—filling the empty space + at which he stares with moving life—engine, baggage car and a long + string of Pullmans. Then all is dark again and only the noise of its + slackening wheels comes to him through the night. It has stopped at the + station. A minute longer and it has started again, and the quickly + lessening rumble of its departure is all that remains of this vision of + man’s activity and ceaseless expectancy. When it is quite gone and all is + quiet, a sigh falls from the man’s lips and he moves on, but this time, + for some unexplainable reason, in the direction of the station. With + lowered head he passes along, noting little till he arrives within sight + of the depot where some freight is being handled, and a trunk or two + wheeled down the platform. No sight could be more ordinary or + unsuggestive, but it has its attraction for him, for he looks up as he + goes by and follows the passage of that truck down the platform till it + has reached the corner and disappeared. Then he sighs again and again + moves on. + </p> + <p> + A cluster of houses, one of them open and lighted, was all which lay + between him now and the country road. He was hurrying past, for his step + had unconsciously quickened as he turned his back upon the station, when + he was seized again by that mood of curiosity and stepped up to the door + from which a light issued and looked in. A common eating-room lay before + him, with rudely spread tables and one very sleepy waiter taking orders + from a new arrival who sat with his back to the door. Why did the lonely + man on the sidewalk start as his eye fell on the latter’s commonplace + figure, a hungry man demanding breakfast in a cheap, country restaurant? + His own physique was powerful while that of the other looked slim and + frail. But fear was in the air, and the brooding of a tempest affects some + temperaments in a totally unexpected manner. As the man inside turns + slightly and looks up, the master figure on the sidewalk vanishes, and his + step, if any one had been interested enough to listen, rings with a new + note as it turns into the country road it has at last reached. + </p> + <p> + But no one heeded. The new arrival munches his roll and waits impatiently + for his coffee, while without, the clouds pile soundlessly in the sky, one + of them taking the form of a huge hand with clutching fingers reaching + down into the hollow void beneath. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XLII. AT SIX + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Challoner had been honest in his statement regarding the departure of + Sweetwater. He had not only paid and dismissed our young detective, but he + had seen him take the train for New York. And Sweetwater had gone away in + good faith, too, possibly with his convictions undisturbed, but + acknowledging at last that he had reached the end of his resources. But + the brain does not loose its hold upon its work as readily as the hand + does. He was halfway to New York and had consciously bidden farewell to + the whole subject, when he suddenly startled those about him by rising + impetuously to his feet. He sat again immediately, but with a light in his + small grey eye which Mr. Gryce would have understood and revelled in. The + idea for which he had searched industriously for months had come at last, + unbidden; thrown up from some remote recess of the mind which had + seemingly closed upon the subject forever. + </p> + <p> + “I have it. I have it,” he murmured in ceaseless reiteration to himself. + “I will go back to Mr. Challoner and let him decide if the idea is worth + pursuing. Perhaps an experiment may be necessary. It was bitter cold that + night; I wish it were icy weather now. But a chemist can help us out. Good + God! if this should be the explanation of the mystery, alas for Orlando + and alas for Oswald!” + </p> + <p> + But his sympathies did not deter him. He returned to Derby at once, and as + soon as he dared, presented himself at the hotel and asked for Mr. + Challoner. + </p> + <p> + He was amazed to find that gentleman already up and in a state of + agitation that was very disquieting. But he brightened wonderfully at + sight of his visitor, and drawing him inside the room, observed with + trembling eagerness: + </p> + <p> + “I do not know why you have come back, but never was man more welcome. Mr. + Brotherson has confessed.” + </p> + <p> + “Confessed!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he killed both women; my daughter and his neighbour, the + washerwoman, with a—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” broke in Sweetwater, eagerly, “let me tell you.” And stooping, he + whispered something in the other’s ear. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner stared at him amazed, then slowly nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “How came you to think—” he began; but Sweetwater in his great + anxiety interrupted him with a quick: + </p> + <p> + “Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? Where is + he? That’s the important thing now.” + </p> + <p> + “He was in his room till early this morning writing letters, but he is not + there now. The door is unlocked and I went in. From appearances I fear the + worst. That is why your presence relieves me so. Where do you think he + is?” + </p> + <p> + “In his hangar in the woods. Where else would he go to—” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought of that. Shall we start out alone or take witnesses with + us?” + </p> + <p> + “We will go alone. Does Oswald anticipate—” + </p> + <p> + “He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in there. + Doris and her father are with him.” + </p> + <p> + “We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it will hold + off for another hour.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner made no reply. He had spoken because he felt compelled to + speak, but it had not been easy for him, nor could any trifles move him + now. + </p> + <p> + The town was up by this time and, though they chose the least frequented + streets, they had to suffer from some encounters. It was a good half hour + before they found themselves in the forest and in sight of the hangar. One + look that way, and Sweetwater turned to see what the effect was upon Mr. + Challoner. + </p> + <p> + A murmur of dismay greeted him. The oval of that great lid stood up + against the forest background. + </p> + <p> + “He has escaped,” cried Mr. Challoner. + </p> + <p> + But Sweetwater, laying a finger on his lip, advanced and laid his ear + against the door. Then he cast a quick look aloft. Nothing was to be seen + there. The darkness of storm in the heavens but nothing more.—Yes! + now, a flash of vivid and destructive lightning! + </p> + <p> + The two men drew back and their glances crossed. + </p> + <p> + “Let us return to the highroad,” whispered Sweetwater; “we can see nothing + here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner, trembling very much, wheeled slowly about. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” enjoined Sweetwater. “First let me take a look inside.” + </p> + <p> + Running to the nearest tree, he quickly climbed it, worked himself along a + protruding branch and looked down into the open hangar. It was now so dark + that details escaped him, but one thing was certain. The air-ship was not + there. + </p> + <p> + Descending, he drew Mr. Challoner hastily along. “He’s gone,” said he. + “Let us reach the high ground as quickly as we can. I’m glad that Mr. + Oswald Brotherson is not with us or—or Miss Doris.” + </p> + <p> + But this expression of satisfaction died on his lips. At the point where + the forest road debouches into the highway, he had already caught a + glimpse of their two figures. They were waiting for news, and the brother + spoke up the instant he saw Sweetwater: + </p> + <p> + “Where is he? You’ve not found him or you wouldn’t be coming alone. He + cannot have gone up. He cannot manage it without an assistant. We must + seek him somewhere else; in the forest or in our house at home. Ah!” The + lightning had forked again. + </p> + <p> + “He’s not in the forest and he’s not in your home,” returned Sweetwater. + “He’s aloft; the air-ship is not in the shed. And he can go up alone now.” + Then more slowly: “But he cannot come down.” + </p> + <p> + They strained their eyes in a maddening search of the heavens. But the + darkness had so increased that they could be sure of nothing. Doris sank + upon her knees. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the lightning flashed again, this time so vividly and so near + that the whole heaven burst into fiery illumination above them and the + thunder, crashing almost simultaneously, seemed for a moment to rock the + world and bow the heavens towards them. Then a silence; then Sweetwater’s + whisper in Mr. Challoner’s ear: + </p> + <p> + “Take them away! I saw him; he was falling like a shot.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Challoner threw out his arms, then steadied himself. Oswald was + reeling; Oswald had seen too. But Doris was there. When the lightning + flashed again, she was standing and Oswald was weeping on her bosom. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INITIALS ONLY *** + +***** This file should be named 1857-h.htm or 1857-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/5/1857/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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