diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1857-0.txt | 10367 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1857-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 193109 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1857-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 203316 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1857-h/1857-h.htm | 12495 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1857.txt | 10367 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 1857.zip | bin | 0 -> 192102 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/ionly10.txt | 10738 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/ionly10.zip | bin | 0 -> 191227 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/ionly11.txt | 10819 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/ionly11.zip | bin | 0 -> 192350 bytes |
13 files changed, 54802 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1857-0.txt b/1857-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6e4eda --- /dev/null +++ b/1857-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10367 @@ +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 + +Posting 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 + + + + + +INITIALS ONLY + +by Anna Katharine Green + + + + +CONTENTS + + BOOK I + + AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + + I POINSETTIAS + II “I KNOW THE MAN” + III THE MAN + IV SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + V THE RED CLOAK + VI INTEGRITY + VII THE LETTERS + VIII STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + IX THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + + + BOOK II + + AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + + X A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + XI ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + XII Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + XIII TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S HEART + XIV A CONCESSION + XV THAT’S THE QUESTION + XVI OPPOSED + XVII IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + XVIII WHAT AM I TO DO NOW? + XIX THE DANGER MOMENT + XX CONFUSION + XXI A CHANGE + XXII O. B. AGAIN + + + BOOK III + + THE HEART OF MAN + + XXIII DORIS + XXIV SUSPENSE + XXV THE OVAL HUT + XXVI SWEETWATER RETURNS + XXVII THE IMAGE OF DREAD + XXVIII I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + XXIX DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER? + XXX CHAOS + XXXI WHAT IS HE MAKING? + XXXII TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + XXXIII ALONE! + XXXIV THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + XXXV SILENCE--AND A KNOCK + XXXVI THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + XXXVII HIS GREAT HOUR + XXXVIII NIGHT + XXXIX THE AVENGER + XL DESOLATE + XLI FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING + XLII AT SIX + + + + + + +BOOK I. AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + + + + +I. POINSETTIAS + + +“A remarkable man!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +I pointed to a man hurrying around the corner just ahead of us. + +“Yes, he’s remarkably well built. I noticed him when he came out of the +Clermont.” This was a hotel we had just passed. + +“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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“Pilate!” escaped my lips, in a sort of nervous chuckle. But George +shook his head at me. + +“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--” + +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. + +“What’s the matter?” I cried. “What can have happened? Let’s go see, +George. Perhaps it has something to do with our man.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“He came out of the Clermont,” I suggested. + +“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.” + +“I’ll be quiet.” + +“Remember.” + +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: + +“Is it murder?” + +“The beautiful Miss Challoner!” + +“A millionairess in her own right!” + +“Killed, they say.” + +“No, no! suddenly dead; that’s all.” + +“George, what shall we do?” I managed to cry into my husband’s ear. + +“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.” + +“But--but is it right?” I urged, in an importunate whisper. “Should we +go home while he--” + +“Hush! My first duty is to you. We will go make our visit; but +to-morrow--” + +“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. + +He drew me as near to the edge of the crowd as he could. There were new +murmurs all about us. + +“If it’s a case of heart-failure, why send for the police?” asked one. + +“It is better to have an officer or two here,” grumbled another. + +“Here comes a cop.” + +“Well, I’m going to vamoose.” + +“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.” + +Slater was the assistant manager of the Clermont, and one of George’s +oldest friends. + +“Then hurry,” said I. “I am being crushed here.” + +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. + +“Let us in, Slater,” he begged. “My wife feels a little faint; she has +been knocked about so by the crowd.” + +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. + +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--” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +“Was she alone when she fell?” I asked. + +“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.” + +“Are you feeling quite well, now?” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Yes, and had been writing a letter. She fell with it still in her +hand.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was fixed with a purpose I had no trouble in understanding. + + + + +II. “I KNOW THE MAN” + + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“Hush! Let us listen rather than talk. What are they saying over there? +Can you hear?” + +“No. And I cannot bear to look. Yet I don’t want to go away. It’s all so +dreadful.” + +“It’s devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you for a +moment. Do you mind?” + +“No, no; yet--” + +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. + +He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of +increased agitation. + +“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.” + +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. + + +“Are you going to tell him?” was my question to George as we made our +way down to the lobby. + +“That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite +remote from this business.” + +“I shall not like that.” + +“I know, my dear, but it is best.” + +I could not gainsay this. + +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. + +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. + +“Tell me--tell,” I begged. + +He tried to smile at my eagerness, but the attempt was ghastly. + +“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.” + +“I will tell what I saw,” said I. + +“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.” + +“We can never make them understand how he looked.” + +“No. I don’t expect to.” + +“Or his manner as he fled.” + +“Nor that either.” + +“We can only describe what we saw him do.” + +“That’s all.” + +“Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don’t believe +he shot her.” + +“He must have.” + +“But they would have seen--have heard--the people around, I mean.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +George bowed, and the chief spokesman--I am sure he was a police-officer +of some kind--asked him to tell what it was. + +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: + +“It’s the peculiarity of the occurrence which affects my husband. The +thing we saw may mean nothing.” + +“Let us hear what it was and we will judge.” + +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. + +“Washed his hands--a gentleman--out there in the snow--just after the +alarm was raised here?” repeated one. + +“And you saw him come out of this house?” another put in. + +“Yes, sir; we noticed him particularly.” + +“Can you describe him?” + +It was Mr. Slater who put this question; he had less control over +himself, and considerable eagerness could be heard in his voice. + +“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.” + +“His clothes. Describe his clothes.” There was an odd sound in Mr. +Slater’s voice. + +“He wore a silk hat and there was fur on his overcoat. I think the fur +was black.” + +Mr. Slater stepped back, then moved forward again with a determined air. + +“I know the man,” said he. + + + + +III. THE MAN + + +“You know the man?” + +“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.” + +“His name.” + +“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.” + +“A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together.” + +“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.” + +“Call up Clausen.” + +The manager stepped to the telephone. + +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-- + +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. + +I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I raised my +hand and pointed down at the street. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Slater at once put his question: + +“Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?” + +“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--” + +“Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly just +before.” + +“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.” + +“But you are sure of that back?” + +“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.” + +“Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him.” + +The old man bowed and went out. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + _____________________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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + 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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The writing was in Mr. Slater’s hand, and the words were: + + “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.” + + + + +IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + + +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. + +Instantly they absorbed all my attention, though I dared not give them a +direct look, and continued to observe them only in the glass. + +“Is it one family?” I asked. + +“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.” + +“Their word ought to be good.” + +George nodded. + +“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?” + +“They did last night. I don’t know how they will meet this statement of +the doctor’s.” + +“George?” + +He leaned nearer. + +“Have you ever thought that she might have been a suicide? That she +stabbed herself?” + +“No, for in that case a weapon would have been found.” + +“And are you sure that none was?” + +“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.” + +“And the detectives are still here?” + +“I just saw one.” + +“George?” + +Again his head came nearer. + +“Have they searched the lobby? I believe she had a weapon.” + +“Laura!” + +“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--” + +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. + +“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. + +“A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously +homely but agreeable enough. I took quite a fancy to him. Why?” + +“I am looking at him now.” + +“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.” + +“He is watching those people. No, he isn’t. How quickly he disappeared!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“What does he want?” I asked, as soon as George had returned to my side. + +“He wants me to stand ready to obey any summons the police may send me.” + +“Then they still suspect Brotherson?” + +“They must.” + +My head rose a trifle as I glanced up at George. + +“Then we are not altogether out of it?” I emphasised, complacently. + +He smiled which hardly seemed apropos. Why does George sometimes smile +when I am in my most serious moods. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“I doubt if you would have been given the opportunity. I noticed that we +were slightly de trop towards the last.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“No,” he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. “Been pushed about all +day. No time for anything.” + +“Then let me tell you--” + +But he would have dinner first. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“What are the points? What’s the difficulty?” he asked. “A woman has +been shot--” + +“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.” + +“Dr. Heath is a reliable man and one of our ablest coroners.” + +“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?” + +“Yes; so much was told me on my way down.” + +“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.” + +“Suicide by stabbing calls for a weapon. Yet none has been found, I +hear.” + +“None.” + +“Yet she was killed that way?” + +“Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than a needle +but not so large as the ordinary stiletto.” + +“Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She had no +companion near her?” + +“None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who were +seated at the other end of the room.” + +“And you do believe them?” + +“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.” + +“It wouldn’t seem so.” + +“Yet they swear up and down that nobody crossed the room towards Miss +Challoner.” + +“So they tell me.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Will you take my arm, sir?” + +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. + +“Have you had a chance at this thing?” he asked. “Been over the +ground--studied the affair carefully?” + +“Yes, sir; they were good enough to allow it.” + +“Very well, then, you’re in a position to pioneer me. You’ve seen it all +and won’t be in a hurry.” + +“No; I’m at the end of my rope. I haven’t an idea, sir.” + +“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.” + +Nevertheless, he looked ten years younger than when he came in, or so +thought those who knew him. + +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. + +“Who were the first to rush in here after the Parrishes gave the alarm?” + +“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.” + +“Good! their names?” + +“Mark Sowerby and Claus Hennerberg. Honest Germans--men who have played +here for years.” + +“And who followed them? Who came next on the scene?” + +“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.” + +“Who did touch her? Anybody, before the father came in?” + +“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.” + +“I suppose she has been carefully questioned?” + +“Very, I should say.” + +“And she speaks of no weapon?” + +“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.” + +“Father and all?” + +“Yes.” + +“But the blood? Surely there must have been some show of blood?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Yes. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at the +time, says that ten minutes at least must have elapsed.” + +“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?” + +“Yes, great big scarlet ones. Nobody noticed--nobody looked. A panic +like that seems to paralyse people.” + +“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.” + +“You will like her. You will believe every word she says.” + +“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.” + +“The stones have all been turned over once.” + +“By you?” + +“Not altogether by me.” + +“Then they will bear being turned over again. I want to be witness of +the operation.” + +“Where will you see Miss Clarke?” + +“Wherever she pleases--only I can’t walk far.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be fully +enlightened when the time came. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Did you manage it?” + +“I succeeded in getting her head into my lap, nothing more.” + +“And sat so?” + +“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.” + +“You knew she was dead, then?” + +“I felt her to be so.” + +“How felt?” + +“I was sure--I never questioned it.” + +“You have seen women in a faint?” + +“Yes, many times.” + +“What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner dead +simply because she lay still and apparently lifeless?” + +“I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only know how +I felt.” + +“Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or +unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her heart?” + +Miss Clarke started, and her sweet face showed a moment’s perplexity. + +“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.” + +“No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me positively +whether you did this or not?” + +“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.” + +Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“The only one,” echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight rising +sound of query in his voice. + +“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. + +“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.” + +It was this statement, otherwise worded, which gave me my triumph over +George. + + + + +V. THE RED CLOAK + + +“What results? Speak up, Sweetwater.” + +“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.” + +“There now remain the guests.” + +“And after them--(pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which rushed +in rather promiscuously last night.” + +“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.” + +A bulletin was put up. + +Some hours later, Sweetwater re-entered the room, and, approaching Mr. +Gryce with a smile, blurted out: + +“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.” + +“Embarrassment? Humph! a man?” + +“No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients. I found out in a jiffy +all they could tell me about her.” + +“A woman! We didn’t expect that. Where is she? Still in the lobby?” + +“No, sir. She took the elevator while I was talking with the clerk.” + +“There’s nothing in it. You mistook her expression.” + +“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.” + +Mr. Gryce nodded thoughtfully, but made no immediate effort to rise. + +“Is that all you know about her?” he asked. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Sweetwater did as he was bid, then went back to his place in the lobby. + +But he returned almost instantly. + +“Mrs. Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to--to leave, +sir.” + +“To leave?” + +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.” + +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: + + “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.” + + +“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.” + +“Here goes then!” cried Sweetwater, and quickly left the room. + +When he returned, it was not with his most hopeful air. + +“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.” + +“She did! Sweetwater, I will see her. Manage it for me at once.” + +“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.” + +“Very well.” But the look which the old detective threw at his bandaged +legs was not without its pathos. + +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: + +“Am I speaking to Mrs. Watkins of Nashville?” + +“You are,” she faltered, with another rapid change of colour. “I--I am +just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I--” + +“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?” + +“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--” + +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:-- + +“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--” + +“Yes.” She raised her head. “So were a dozen others--” + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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: + +“All ready, mother. I’m glad we are going to the Clarendon. I hate +hotels where people die almost before your eyes.” + +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. + +“Who is this?” demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing from +one to the other. + +“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--” + +“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. + +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: + +“The person who stooped wore a long red cloak. Probably you preceded +your daughter, Mrs. Watkins.” + +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: + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Caroline”--Then the mother broke down. “Show the gentleman what you +picked up from the lobby floor last night.” + +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. + +“It was lying there and I picked it up. I don’t see any harm in that.” + +“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. + +“You have washed this?” he asked. + +“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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +“Does that frighten you? Are you so affected by the thought of blood?” + +“Don’t ask me. And I put the thing under my pillow! I thought it was +so--so pretty.” + +“Mrs. Watkins,” Mr. Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter, “did +you see it there?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“None whatever, Madam.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Her shudder, as she seated herself, was very convincing. She was too +young to simulate so successfully emotions of this character. + +“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.” + +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. + +“They are the same she is wearing now,” the anxious mother assured him. +“Wait, and I will get them for you.” + +“No need. Let her hold out her hands in token of amity. I shall soon +see.” + +They returned to where the girl still sat, wrapped in her cloak, sobbing +still, but not so violently. + +“Caroline, you may take off your things,” said the mother, drawing the +pins from her own hat. “We shall not go to-day.” + +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. + +“Will--will he tell?” she whispered behind its ample folds into her +mother’s ear. + +The answer came quickly, but not in the mother’s tones. Mr. Gryce’s ears +had lost none of their ancient acuteness. + +“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?” + +“No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn’t have to step out of +my way; I really didn’t.” + +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. + +He could soon tell. + + + + +VI. INTEGRITY + + +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: + +“I have but one idea left on the subject.” + +“And what is that?” Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment. + +“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.” + +“Sweetwater!” + +A faint blush rose to the old man’s cheek. + +“Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over?” + +“Yes.” + +The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it was with +a downcast air. + +“Nothing doing,” said he. + +And then there was silence. + +“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. + +“That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it to her +maid?” + +“If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman.” + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem inclined +to speak. + +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. + +Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then laid +it down again, with an air of seeming abstraction. + +The father’s attention was caught. + +“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--” + +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: + +“It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to think +it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?” + +“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!” + +Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with the +truth. + +“It was picked up--last night--from the lobby floor. There is seemingly +nothing to connect it with her death. Yet--” + +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: + +“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--” + +“What about the one?” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +“They are the letters of a gentleman.” + +“With the one exception.” + +“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: + +“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.” + +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? + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +VII. THE LETTERS + +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. + +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. + +“Well, Gryce, this is a dark case,” he observed, as at his bidding the +two detectives took their seats. + +Mr. Gryce nodded; so did Sweetwater. + +“The darkest that has ever come to my knowledge,” pursued the coroner. + +Mr. Gryce again nodded; but not so, Sweetwater. For some reason this +simple expression of opinion seemed to have given him a mental start. + +“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.” + +“I’m sorry that I’ve been able to do so little,” remarked Mr. Gryce. + +The coroner darted him a quick look. + +“You are not satisfied? You have some different idea?” he asked. + +The detective frowned at his hands crossed over the top of his cane, +then shaking his head, replied: + +“The verdict you mention is the only natural one, of course. I see that +you have been talking with Miss Challoner’s former maid?” + +“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.” + +And Dr. Heath read: + + “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.” + +“A threat!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Brotherson!” exclaimed the young detective in loud surprise. +“Brotherson! The man who--” + +“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.” + +“Brotherson!” The word came softly now, and with a thoughtful +intonation. “He saw her die.” + +“Why do you say that?” + +“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.” + +“Have you settled it beyond dispute that Brotherson is really the man +who was seen doing this?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Not Miss Challoner’s maid?” + +“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.” + +“I’ll find the man; I have a double reason for doing that now; he shall +not escape me.” + +Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction, and gave some orders. Meanwhile, +Mr. Gryce had not uttered a word. + + + + +VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + + +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. + +“Wake up, little woman,” I heard, “and trot away to bed. I’m going out +and may not be in till daybreak.” + +“You! going out! at ten o’clock at night, tired as you are--as we both +are! What has happened--Oh!” + +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. + +“Mr. Sweetwater,” explained George. “We are going out together. It is +necessary, or you may be sure I should not leave you.” + +I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. “Oh, I know. You are +going to hunt up the man. How I wish--” + +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. + +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. + +As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towards +George and said: + +“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?” + +“I think so. There’s his height and a certain strong look in his face. I +cannot describe it.” + +“You don’t need to. Come! we’re all right. You don’t mind making a night +of it?” + +“Not if it is necessary.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +When they stopped, which was in a few minutes, he said to George: + +“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.” + +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. + +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? + +“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?” + +“Is this a secret one?” + +“It wasn’t advertised.” + +“Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?” + +“I am a carpenter. Don’t you think you can be a mason for the occasion?” + +“I doubt it, but--” + +“Hush! I must speak to this man.” + +George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and a +shadowy figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk. + +“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. + +“He didn’t go in by it; yet I believe he’s safe enough inside,” was the +muttered answer. + +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. + +“Are we going back? Are you going to give up the job?” George asked. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“But we! What are we going to do if we cannot get in front or rear?” + +“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.” + +“Perhaps it swings on hinges,” suggested George. “It looks like that +sort of a window.” + +“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?” + +George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an amused +grunt, softly unlatched the window and pulled it wide open. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of impatience +and regret, pushed the window to before asking George this question: + +“Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, your +attention outside the Clermont?” + +“No.” + +“Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over the +speaker’s head?” + +“Yes, but I could judge nothing from that.” + +“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.” + +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: + +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: + +“Who’s that? What do you want down there?” + +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: + +“It’s the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man we’re +after--the one who shouted down?” + +“No. Neither was he the speaker. The voices are very different.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“Well?” inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. “Do you want me? They +don’t seem to be coming out.” + +“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?” + + + + +IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + +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. + +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. + +“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? + +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. + +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: + +“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?” + +“Yes; but-” + +“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.” + +George felt non-plussed. + +“But surely,” said he, “the gentleman named Brotherson doesn’t live +here.” + +“The inventor does.” + +“Oh!” + +“And--but I will explain later.” + +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: + +Don’t look up till he is fairly in range with the light. + +There’s nothing to fear; he doesn’t know either of us. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +George shook his head. He could not rid himself of the old impression he +had formed of the man in the snow. + +“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?” + +“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?” + +He was returning to them from the door he had unlocked and left slightly +ajar. + +“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.” + +“I have nothing to do with the club--” + +“But you spoke before it.” + +“Yes.” + +“Then you can give us some sort of an idea how we are to apply for +membership.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You seem to have forgotten your errand,” came in quiet, if not +good-natured, sarcasm from their patiently waiting host. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He might +witness and hear, but it was long before he understood. + +“Brotherson?” repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to the +breaking-point. “Why do you call me that?” + +“Because it is your name.” + +“You called me Dunn a minute ago.” + +“That is true.” + +“Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?” + +“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.” + +“And you? By what name are you known?” + +“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?” + +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: + +“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?” + +He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, +lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +But you will not lack a suitable guide. + + + + + + + +BOOK II. AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + + + + +X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + + +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. + +“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.” + +The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyed +him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow expected. + +“You seem to lay great store by it,” said he; “if you want to sort those +papers over there, you may.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“Mr. Brotherson, I believe,” said he, as he motioned his visitor to sit. + +“That is my name, sir.” + +“Orlando Brotherson?” + +“The same, sir.” + +“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.” + +“Miss Challoner?” + +“Certainly; Miss Challoner.” + +“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.” + +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: + +“Do you recognise the signature?” + +“Yes, it is mine.” + +“Then you acknowledge yourself the author of these lines?” + +“Most certainly. Have I not said that this is my signature?” + +“Do you remember the words of this note, Mr. Brotherson?” + +“Hardly. I recollect its tenor, but not the exact words.” + +“Read them.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“You ask that?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Ah! and so you thought a threat was due her?” + +“A threat?” + +“These words contain a threat, do they not?” + +“They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may have +expressed myself in an unfortunate manner.” + +“Read the words, Mr. Brotherson. I really must insist that you do so.” + +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: + +“I remember it perfectly now. It is not a letter to be proud of. I +hope--” + +“Pray finish, Mr. Brotherson.” + +“That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this letter +and her violent death?” + +“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.” + +“Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate my +influence with the lady you name.” + +“You believe, then, that she was sincere in her rejection of your +addresses?” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Your wish can very easily be gratified,” returned the official, +pressing an electric button on his desk. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“This good-bye--do you remember it? The exact language, I mean?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“This was when?” put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which +must have been very painful to the listening father. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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?” + +“Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this one +outburst whatever humiliation I felt.” + +“And she? Did she give no sign, make you no answer?” + +“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.” + +This time his bitterness did not pass unrebuked by the coroner: + +“Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, and +respect his grief.” + +Mr. Brotherson bowed. + +“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. + +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: + +“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.” + +“On the spot?” + +“In the hotel, I mean.” + +“There you are right; I was in the hotel.” + +“At the time of her death?” + +“Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the lobby +behind me, just as I was passing out at the Broadway entrance.” + +“You did, and did not return?” + +“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.” + +This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so frank +that the coroner hesitated a moment before he said: + +“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.” + +“I had no interview with Miss Challoner.” + +“But you saw her? Saw her that evening and just before the accident?” + +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?” + +“Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yet +directly and with no possibility of mistake.” + +“Do you put that as a question?” + +“I do. Did you see her figure or face that night?” + +“I did.” + +Nothing--not even the rattling of Sweetwater’s papers--disturbed the +silence which followed this admission. + +“From where?” Dr. Heath asked at last. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“It was--such--a spot.” + +“Then I think I can locate it for you, or do you prefer to locate it +yourself?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and what was +in it? Anything?” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly conscious +of perhaps himself, he asked in an off-hand way: + +“Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair the +moment you had left the hotel?” + +“I do not understand.” + +“You passed around the corner into--street, did you not?” + +“Very likely. I could go that way as well as another.” + +“And stopped at the first lamp-post?” + +“Oh, I see. Someone saw that childish action of mine.” + +“What did you mean by it?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +But the feeling did not last. + +“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.” + + + + +XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + + +“Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You must +decide which.” + +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. + +“Sweetwater, is that you?” + +“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.” + +A grunt from the region of the library table, then the sarcastic remark: + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Nor any evidence that it had ever been there.” + +“No. I’m not proud of the chain which lacks a link where it should be +strongest.” + +“We shall never supply that link.” + +“I quite agree with you.” + +“That chain we must throw away.” + +“And forge another?” + +Sweetwater approached and sat down. + +“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--” + +“What, Sweetwater?” + +“A well-founded distrust. Mr. Gryce, I’m going to ask you a question.” + +“Ask away. Ask fifty if you want to.” + +“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?” + +“No, it stands alone. That’s why it is so puzzling.” + +“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--” + +“Wait! the washerwoman in Hicks Street! Sweetwater, what have you got up +your sleeve? You do mean that Brooklyn washerwoman, don’t you?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +And he read: + +“‘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. + +“‘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. + +“‘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. + +“‘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. + +“‘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. + +“‘His reply threw them all into confusion. The tenant of that room was +the best, the quietest and most respectable man in either building. + +“‘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.’ + +“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. + +“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? + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + + + + +XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“And here’s mine.” + +Next minute the two heads were closer than ever together, and the +business had begun. + + + + +XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN’S HEART + + +“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.” + +“Humph! we will set that down, then, as so much against us.” + +“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.” + +“True. The problem is such as a nightmare offers. For years my dreams +have been haunted by a gnome who proposes just such puzzles.” + +“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.” + +“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.’” + +“Gosh! has he heard this story?” + +“Who?” + +“The gentleman in question.” + +“Mr. Brotherson?” + +“Yes.” + +“I don’t think so. It was told me in confidence.” + +“Told you, Mr. Gryce? Pardon my curiosity.” + +“By Mr. Challoner.” + +“Oh! by Mr. Challoner.” + +“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.” + +“And what--what did you--say?” asked Sweetwater, with a halting +utterance and his face full of thought. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“How can you be sure?” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“I must be at Headquarters to-morrow.” + +“Good, then let it be to-morrow. A taxicab, Sweetwater. The subway for +the young. I can no longer manage the stairs.” + + + + +XIV. A CONCESSION + + +“It is true; there seems to be something extraordinary in the +coincidence.” + +Thus Mr. Brotherson, in the presence of the Inspector. + +“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?” + +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: + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Again that chill smile preceding the quiet answer: + +“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.” + +“But why make use of one name as a gentleman of leisure and quite a +different one as the honest workman?” + +“Ah, there you touch upon my real secret. I have a reason for keeping my +identity quiet till my invention is completed.” + +“A reason connected with your anarchistic tendencies?” + +“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.” + +“We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn. Physical overthrow carries more than +the immediate sufferer with it.” + +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. + +Perhaps it was of a nature to surprise even him. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Do you mind telling us where you went in New York?” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +He was half-way out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the +Inspector drew him back. + +“Anything more?” he asked. + +The Inspector smiled. + +“You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. +Brotherson. You must have decided long ago how this woman died.” + +“Is that a question, Inspector?” + +“You may take it as such.” + +“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.” + +The air seemed to have lost its vitality and the sun its sparkle when he +was gone. + +“Now, what do you think, Gryce?” + +The old man rose and came out of his corner. + +“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.” + +“I’m inclined to believe him the latter.” + +“And so give the whole matter the go-by?” + +“Possibly.” + +“It will be a terrible disappointment to Sweetwater.” + +“That’s nothing.” + +“And to me.” + +“That’s different. I’m disposed to consider you, Gryce--after all these +years.” + +“Thank you; I have done the state some service.” + +“What do you want? You say the mine is unworkable.” + +“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.” + +“The outlay? I am thinking of the outlay.” + +“Mr. Challoner will see to that. I have his word that no reasonable +amount will daunt him.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + + + + +XV. THAT’S THE QUESTION + + +“How many times has he seen you?” + +“Twice.” + +“So that he knows your face and figure?” + +“I’m afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him in his +own room.” + +“That’s unfortunate.” + +“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.” + +“You’ve done very well as it is.” + +“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.” + +“Do. It’ll make you look as weak as water. It’ll be blonde, of course.” + +“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. + +“Sweetwater! We’d better give the task to another man--to someone +Brotherson has never seen and won’t be suspicious of?” + +“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.” + +“But the doubt. Can you do all this in doubt of the issue?” + +“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.” + +“Yes, that’s essential.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“My mother’s--Zugg.” + +“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.” + +“Thanks. You’re sure the Superintendent is with me?” + +“Yes, but not the Inspector. He sees nothing but the victim of a strange +coincidence in Orlando Brotherson.” + +“Again the scales hang even. But they won’t remain so. One side is bound +to rise. Which? That’s the question, Mr. Gryce.” + + + + +XVI. OPPOSED + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“Not much sleep, eh? We didn’t think you’d like it. Did you see +anything?” + +Now this gave him the one excuse he wanted. + +“See anything?” he repeated, apparently with all imaginable innocence. +“What do you mean by that?” + +“Don’t you know what happened in that room?” + +“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. + +At half past six he found the janitor. He was, to all appearance, in a +state of great excitement and he spoke very fast. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +The first page of his adventure in the Hicks Street tenement had been +turned, and he was ready to start upon another. + + + + +XVII. IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + + +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: + +“Halloo! coming to live in this hole?” + +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: + +“Yes, this is to be my castle. Are you the owner of the buildings? If +so--” + +“I am not the owner. I live next door. Haven’t I seen you before, young +man?” + +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: + +“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.” + +Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. Brotherson +stared at the youth, then ventured another question: + +“A carpenter, eh?” + +“Yes, and I’m an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It’s my one card of +introduction.” + +“I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you somewhere else than in Schuper’s shop. Do +you remember me?” + +“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. + +But Brotherson was not to be caught. + +“You slept in the building last night? In the other half, I mean?” + +“Yes, I--slept.” + +The strong lip of the other man curled disdainfully. + +“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?” + +“Yes; they told me so this morning.” + +“Was that the first you’d heard of it?” + +“Sure!” The word almost jumped at the questioner. “Do you suppose I’d +have taken the room if--” + +But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out, +disgust in every feature,--plain, unmistakable, downright disgust, and +nothing more! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“You’re better this evening,” he heard in those kindly tones which so +confused and irritated him. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +Relieved for the moment, he left his post and, sitting down on the edge +of his cot, gave himself up to thought. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“You find me at work,” he remarked. “I don’t suppose you understand any +but your own?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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? + +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?” + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + + +XVIII. WHAT AM I TO DO NOW + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +The young detective’s moment had come. + +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. + + +A strain of well-known music broke softly, from the box and sent its +vibrations through the wall. + +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. + +It was Edith! Miss Challoner’s first name, and the tone bespoke a shaken +soul. + +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--” + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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-- + +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. + +“The man is too strong for me,” he cried. “His heart is granite; he +meets my every move. What am I to do now?” + + + + +XIX. THE DANGER MOMENT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +Sweetwater in the darkness of his closet laughed in his gleeful +appreciation. + +“Great!” was his comment. “Just great! She has thought of everything--or +Mr. Gryce has.” + +Meanwhile, the girl was proceeding with increased volubility. + +“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.” + +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: + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“No one can overhear.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +“I believe you to have taken every advantage possible to spy upon your +mistress. I believe that, yes.” + +“From interest, monsieur, from great interest.” + +“Self-interest.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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: + + “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-” + +The paper dropped from the reader’s hand. It was several minutes before +he took up another. + +This one, as it happened, antedated the other, as will appear on reading +it: + + “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.” + +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. + +A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding sheet. +The following was read, and then the fourth and last: + + “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?” + + + + +XX. CONFUSION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +The frown had come back to the forehead of the indignant man who +confronted him. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I do not believe you.” + +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. + +“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.” + +With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a smile, +he nodded and left the room. + + + + +XXI. A CHANGE + + +“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.” + +But our young detective did neither. + +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: + +“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.” + + + + +XXII. O. B. AGAIN + + +“What’s happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so after +this confounded failure.” + +“Failure? Didn’t he read the letters?” + +“Yes, he read them. Had to, but--” + +“Didn’t weaken? Eh?” + +“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.” + +“Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn’t know that +it ran that high.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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?” + +“N--no.” The hesitating admission was only a proof of Sweetwater’s +obstinacy. + +“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.” + +“Only another? I thought there were a half-dozen, at least.” + +“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.” + +“Two O. B.s! Isn’t that incredible, Mr. Gryce?” + +“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.” + +“The second O. B.?” + +“Yes.” + +Sweetwater’s face instantly lit up. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“The Superintendent--how does he feel about it?” + +“He was the first one to mention you.” + +“And the Inspector?” + +“Is glad to see us on a new tack.” + +A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective’s eye +clouded over. Presently he remarked: + +“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.” + +Mr. Gryce’s eyes twinkled. + +“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.” + +“The prospect grows pleasing. Where am I to look for my man?” + +“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.” + +“I see. It’s a short journey I have before me.” + +“It’ll bring the colour to your cheeks.” + +“Oh, I’m not kicking.” + +“You will start to-morrow.” + +“Wish it were to-day.” + +“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.” + +“Another woman!” + +“No, a child;--well, I won’t say child exactly; she must be sixteen.” + +“Doris Scott.” + +“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--” + +“I begin to see.” + +“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.” + +“Was this letter signed O. B.?” + +“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.” + +“How not? Torn off, do you mean?” + +“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.” + +“If I remember rightly Miss Challoner’s letter to this child was free +from all mystery.” + +“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.” + +Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and re-read +these lines: + + “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.” + + +“That to a child of sixteen!” + +“Just so.” + +“D-o-r-i-s spells something besides Doris.” + +“Yet there is a Doris. Remember that O. B. says in one of his letters, +‘Doris is learning to embroider.’” + +“Yes, I remember that.” + +“So you must first find Doris.” + +“Very good, sir.” + +“And as Miss Challoner’s letter was directed to Derby, Pennsylvania, you +will go to Derby.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Anything more?” + +“I’ve been reading this letter again.” + +“It’s worth it.” + +“The last sentence expresses a hope.” + +“That has been noted.” + +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.” + +Mr. Gryce smiled; but there was more age, wisdom and sympathy for +youthful enthusiasm in that smile than there was confidence or hope. + + + + +BOOK III. THE HEART OF MAN + + + + +XXIII. DORIS + + +“A young girl named Doris Scott?” + +The station-master looked somewhat sharply at the man he was addressing, +and decided to give the direction asked. + +“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-- + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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. + +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. + +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.” + +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: + +“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?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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--” + +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.” + +“He!” Sweetwater perked up his ears. “Who do you mean by he?” + +“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.” + +But a thunderbolt could not have moved Sweetwater after the hearing of +that name. “Mr. Brotherson!” he echoed. “Brotherson! Not Orlando?” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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-- + +“Edith! Edith!” + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +She wrenched her hand from his, panting with impatience and a vague +alarm. But she answered him distinctly: + +“On the Twenty-fifth of last month, just an hour after he was made +manager. He fell in a faint at the Works.” + +The day--the very day of Miss Challoner’s death! + +“Had he heard--did you tell him then or afterwards what happened in New +York on that very date?” + +“No, no, we have not told him. It would have killed him--and may yet.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +Sweetwater allowed himself one minute of thought, then he earnestly +replied: + +“I will keep your secret for to-day, and longer, if possible.” + +“Thank you,” she cried; “thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your +face.” And she again prepared to close the door. + +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?” + +“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.” + +“Edith! Edith!” rose in ceaseless reiteration from within. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXIV. SUSPENSE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXV. THE OVAL HUT + + +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. + +His first word, therefore, was a plain announcement. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“That I see; but if I knew when I might speak--” + +“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.” + +Sweetwater muttered his thanks and rose. Then he slowly sat down again. + +“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?” + +The doctor did not need to speak; his expression conveyed his answer. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS + + +“You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday’s intrusion has not +prejudiced you against me.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“There is but one story to tell,” she smiled, and her head drooped +softly, but with no air of self-consciousness. + +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.” + +“O yes, O yes.” + +“More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your very +looks show that.” + +“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.” + +“And a friend of Mr. Brotherson,” supplemented Sweetwater. + +“Yes,” she smiled, “he would want me to say so. But that’s his goodness. +I don’t deserve the honour.” + +“His friend and therefore his confidante,” Sweetwater continued. “He has +talked to you about Miss Challoner?” + +“He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, I had +seen her and could understand.” + +“Where did you see her?” + +“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.” + +“That was some time ago?” + +“We were there in June.” + +“And you have corresponded ever since with Miss Challoner?” + +“She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times to +answer her.” + +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: + +“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.” + +She was vehement, instantly vehement, in her disclaimer. + +“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.” + +Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner’s last letter, and wished he had it +here to give her. In default of this, he said: + +“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.” + +Her eyes filled. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Tell me about it.” + +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. + +“A meagre haul,” he remarked at the close. + +“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.” + +“As prejudiced as a bulldog.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small comfort can +I carry him.” + + + + +XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Who is that, Johnny?” she asked. “You know everybody who comes to town. +What is the name of the gentleman you see coming?” + +The boy looked, searched his memory, not without some show of misgiving. + +“A queer name,” he admitted at last. “I never heard the likes of it here +before. Shally something. Shally--Shally--” + +“Challoner?” + +“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.” + +“Well, never mind. Run on, Johnny. And don’t forget to come earlier +to-morrow; Mr. Brotherson gets tired waiting.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“Doris, come here, sweet child. I want you.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Surprised now by something not quite natural in her manner, he caught at +her hand and held her as she was moving away. + +“You are tired,” said he. “I’ve wearied you with my commission and +complaints. Forgive me, dear child, and--” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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! + +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. + +“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.” + +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-- + +Unconsciously the young head drooped, and the pen slid from her hand. + +“I cannot,” she murmured, “I cannot think what to say.” + +“Shall I help you?” came softly from the bed. “I’ll try and not forget +that it is Doris writing.” + +“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.” + +“Write then. ‘Dear Miss Challoner!” + +“I have already written that.” + +“Why do you shudder?” + +“I’m cold. I’ve been cold all day. But never mind that, Mr. Brotherson. +Tell me how to begin my letter.” + +“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?” + +“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. + +“Well, leave out the fretful if you must, but keep in the exacting. I +have been exacting, you know.” + +Silence, broken only by the scratching of the stubborn, illy-directed +pen. + +“It’s down,” she whispered. She said, afterward, that it was like +writing with a ghost looking over one’s shoulder. + +“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?” + +“No, no, I can follow.” + +“But not without losing breath; eh, Doris?” + +As he laughed, she smiled. There was a heroism in that smile, Oswald +Brotherson, of which you knew nothing. + +“You might speak a little more slowly,” she admitted. + +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!” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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. + +“You will mail it yourself?” he asked. “I should like to have you put it +into the box with your own hand.” + +“I will put it in to-night, after supper,” she promised him. + +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. + + + + +XXVIII. I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + + +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. + +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. + +“Miss Scott?” he asked. + +“Yes, Mr. Challoner.” + +“You know me?” he went on, one foot on the step and one still on the +walk. + +Before replying she closed the door behind her. Then as she noted his +surprise she carefully explained: + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +She gave him one quick look, trembling so that he offered her his arm +with a fatherly air. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +Doris turned her candid eyes upon him. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +Doris trembled. + +“It was not suicide,” she declared, vehemently. “I have always felt sure +that it was not; but to-day I KNOW.” + +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? + +“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?” + +“No, not at all,” he assured her. “Expect me at eight. Will that be too +early?” + +“No, no. Oh, how those people stared! Let us hasten back or they may +connect your name with what we want kept secret.” + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +“Sure of what, Miss Scott?” + +She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer. He had not +taken the chair she preferred. + +“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. + +“A dream, Miss Scott?” He tried to hide his disappointment. + +“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.” + +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: + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention, he waited till +her eyes met his, then quietly asked: + +“Have you ever named this man to yourself?” + +She started and dropped her eyes. + +“I do not dare to,” said she. + +“Why?” + +“Because I’ve read in the papers that the man who stood there had the +same name as--” + +“Tell me, Miss Scott.” + +“As Mr. Brotherson’s brother.” + +“But you do not think it was his brother?” + +“I do not know.” + +“You’ve never seen his brother?” + +“Never.” + +“Nor his picture?” + +“No, Mr. Brotherson has none.” + +“Aren’t they friends? Does he never mention Orlando?” + +“Very, very rarely. But I’ve no reason to think they are not on good +terms. I know they correspond.” + +“Miss Scott?” + +“Yes, Mr. Challoner.” + +“You must not rely too much upon your dream.” + +Her eyes flashed to his and then fell again. + +“Dreams are not revelations; they are the reproduction of what already +lies hidden in the mind. I can prove that your dream is such.” + +“How?” She looked startled. + +“You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you think +of a pistol.” + +“Yes, I was looking directly into it.” + +“But my daughter was not shot. She died from a stab.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Who is it?” she asked. “Father’s in and visitors seldom come so late.” + +“Shall I see?” + +She nodded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, revealing +the tall, strong figure of a man facing them from the porch. + +“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: + +“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!” + + + + +XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER + + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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: + +“Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, Miss +Scott. Will you let me come in now?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Then I’m not to see him to-night?” + +“I pray you to wait. He’s--he’s been a very sick man.” + +“Dangerously so?” + +“Yes.” + +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. + +“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.” + +She shook her head. “I know very little about business,” said she. + +“My brother has not told you why he expected me?” + +“He has not even told me that he expected you.” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +“My brother?” he asked. + +“Yes,” came in faltering reply. “He has heard our voices; I must go to +him.” + +“Say that Orlando wishes him a good night,” smiled her heart’s enemy, +with a bow of infinite grace. + +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. + +“I will accompany you into the hall,” said he. “Then if anything is +wrong, you have but to speak my name.” + +But Orlando Brotherson, displeased by this move, took a step which +brought him between the two. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +But the question finally came. + +“Mr. Challoner, do you know my brother?” + +“I have never seen him.” + +“Do you know him? Does he know you?” + +“Not at all. We are strangers.” + +It was said honestly. They did not know each other. Mr. Challoner was +quite correct in his statement. + +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. + +He, therefore, allowed himself to press the question: + +“Men sometimes correspond who do not know each other. You knew that a +Brotherson lived here?” + +“Yes.” + +“And hoped to learn something about me?” + +“No; my interest was solely with your brother.” + +“With my brother? With Oswald? What interest can you have in him apart +from me? Oswald is--” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“That is fortunate for me,” was the courteous reply. + +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. + + + + +XXX. CHAOS + + +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. + +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: + +“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?” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“You see me again, Mr. Challoner. May I beg of you a few minutes’ +further conversation? I will not detain you long.” + +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. + +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. + +“What do you wish to ask?” was Mr. Challoner’s immediate inquiry. + +“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?” + +“No.” + +“She was acquainted with Oswald Brotherson?” + +“She was.” + +“Without your knowledge?” + +“Entirely so.” + +“Corresponded with him?” + +“Not exactly.” + +“How, not exactly?” + +“He wrote to her--occasionally. She wrote to him frequently--but she +never sent her letters.” + +“Ah!” + +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. + +“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?” + +“I know it.” + +“And that is why I found you in the same house with him.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I am not given to exaggeration,” was the even reply. + +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. + +“You have still something to say,” suggested the latter, as an +oppressive silence swallowed up that icy sentence I have already +recorded. + +“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.” + +“You mean--” + +“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. + +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: + +“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.” + +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: + +“Unhappy truths cannot be long concealed. How soon does the doctor think +my brother can bear these inevitable revelations?” + +“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.” + +Orlando bowed his appreciation of this fact, but added quickly: + +“Who is to do the telling?” + +“Doris. Nobody else could be trusted with so delicate a task.” + +“I wish to be present.” + +Mr. Challoner looked up, surprised at the feeling with which this +request was charged. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +The hand on the door-knob made a sudden movement. + +“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. + +Orlando watched him till the door closed, then he too dropped his mask. + +But it was on again, when in a little while he passed through the +sitting-room on his way upstairs. + +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. + + + + +XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“You see I am here,” was the stranger’s low greeting. + +“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?” + +“I stopped at her door.” + +“Was that safe?” + +“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.” + +“What is he making?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“May Heaven help your efforts!” + +“I shall need its assistance,” was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater was by +no means blind to the difficulties awaiting him. + + + + +XXXII. TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“What is the matter, child? So weary, eh? Nothing worse than that, I +hope.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“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?” + +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. + +“Dead!” he shrieked out, and fell back fainting in his chair, his lips +still murmuring in semi-unconsciousness, “Dead! dead!” + +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! + +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. + +“Doris?” + +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. + +“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: + +“How long?” + +She answered them as simply. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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--” + +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.” + +And Doris told him: + +“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.” + +“Edith? never!” + +The words were chokingly said; he was swaying, almost falling, but he +steadied himself. + +“Who says that?” he asked. + +“It was the coroner’s verdict.” + +“And she died that way--died?” + +“Immediately.” + +“After writing to you?” + +“Yes.” + +“What was in that letter?” + +“Nothing of threat, they say. Only just cheer and expressions of hope. +Just like the others, Mr. Brotherson.” + +“And they accuse her of taking her own life? Their verdict is a lie. +They did not know her.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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: + +“Do they know of--of my interest in this?” + +“Yes; they know about the two O. B.s.” + +“The two--” He was on his feet again, but only for a moment; his +weakness was greater than his will power. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“He met her at Lenox.” + +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: + +“Yes, yes, I remember. I sent him there--” and paused, his mind blank +again. + +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. + +“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.” + +“He did not know them.” + +A laugh; a laugh which paled Doris’ cheek; then his tones grew even +again, memory came back and he muttered faintly: + +“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.” + +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.” + +“He wrote her a letter; it frightened her. He followed it up by a +visit--” + +Doris paused; the sentence hung suspended. She had heard a step--a hand +on the door. + +Orlando had entered the room. + + + + +XXXIII. ALONE + + +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: + +“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.” + +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: + +“Speak! I am bound to listen; you are my brother.” + +Orlando turned towards Doris. She was slipping away. + +“Don’t go,” said he. + +But she was gone. + +Slowly he turned back. + +Oswald raised his hand and checked the words with which he would have +begun his story. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“And what?” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Edith?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +But of all this Oswald had caught but the one word. + +“Chance?” he repeated. “Orlando, I believe in God.” + +“Then seek your comfort there. I find it in harnessing the winds; in +forcing the powers of nature to do my bidding.” + +The other did not speak, and the silence grew heavy. It was broken, when +it was broken, by a cry from Oswald: + +“No more,” said he, “no more.” Then, in a yearning accent, “Send Doris +to me.” + +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. + +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. + +Alone! + +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! + +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. + +He could wait for that hour. He had measured the gulf before him and +found it passable. Henceforth no looking back. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + + +XXXIV. THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Edith’s father! Doris, it cannot be. Edith’s father!” + +“Yes, Mr. Challoner has been in Derby for the last two weeks. He has +only one interest now; to see you well again.” + +“Why?” + +Doris caught the note of pain, if not suspicion, in this query, and +smiled as she asked in turn: + +“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.” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +“Doris says that you have shown me this kindness from the desire you +have to see me well again Mr. Challoner. Is this true?” + +“Very true. I cannot emphasise the fact too strongly.” + +Oswald’s eyes met his again, this time with great earnestness. + +“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?” + +It was for Mr. Challoner’s voice to tremble now, as reaching out his +hand, he declared, with unmistakable feeling: + +“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.” + +Startled and deeply moved, the young man stretched out a shaking hand +towards his visitor, with the feeble but exulting cry: + +“Then you do not blame me for her wretched and mysterious death. You +hold me guiltless of the misery which nerved her despairing arm?” + +“Quite guiltless.” + +Oswald’s wan and pinched features took on a beautiful expression and Mr. +Challoner no longer wondered at his daughter’s choice. + +“Thank God!” fell from the sick man’s lips, and then there was a silence +during which their two hands met. + +It was some minutes before either spoke and then it was Oswald who said: + +“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. + +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. + +The cause became apparent as soon as he spoke. + +“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.” + +“He does not know all our reasons for distrust. He has heard nothing +about the poor washerwoman.” + +“No, and he must not,--not for weeks. He has borne all that he can.” + +“His confidence in his older brother is sublime. I do not share it; but +I cannot help but respect him for it.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Doris’ large eyes burned with a weird light upon his face. + +“He has not had my dream,” she murmured, with all the quiet of an +unmoved conviction. + +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. + +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: + +“Oswald, what is your idea about what I’m making up there?” + +“That it will be a success.” + +“I know; but its character, its use? What do you think it is?” + +“I’ve an idea; but my idea don’t fit the conditions.” + +“How’s that?” + +“The shed is too closely hemmed in. You haven’t room--” + +“For what?” + +“To start an aeroplane.” + +“Yet it is certainly a device for flying.” + +“I supposed so; but--” + +“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.” + +“Orlando!” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Have you such pride as that?” + +“Precisely.” + +“So much that you cannot face failure?” + +“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.” + +“You want me to ascend with you?” + +“Exactly.” + +“At the end of three days?” + +“Yes.” + +“Orlando, I cannot.” + +“You cannot? Not strong enough yet? I’ll wait then,--three days more.” + +“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.” + +Orlando, balked thus at the outset, showed his displeasure. + +“You do not do justice to your will. It is strong enough to carry you +through anything.” + +“It was.” + +“You can force it to act for you.” + +“I fear not, Orlando.” + +“I counted on you and you thwart me at the most critical moment of my +life.” + +Oswald smiled; his whole candid and generous nature bursting into view, +in one quick flash. + +“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.” + +“Do you know such a man?” + +“I don’t; but there must be many such among our workmen.” + +“There isn’t one; and I haven’t time to send to Brooklyn. I reckoned on +you.” + +“Can you wait a month?” + +“No.” + +“A fortnight, then?” + +“No, not ten days.” + +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. + +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--” + +He did not need to continue. Oswald understood and flashed a grateful +look his way before saying: + +“You will make the attempt at night?” + +“Certainly.” + +“And on Saturday?” + +“I’ve said it.” + +“I will run over in my mind the qualifications of such men as I know and +acquaint you with the result to-morrow.” + +“There are adjustments to be made. A man of accuracy is necessary.” + +“I will remember.” + +“And he must be likable. I can do nothing with a man with whom I’m not +perfectly in accord.” + +“I understand that.” + +“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.” + +And with a proud smile in which flashed a significance which startled +Oswald, he gave a hurried nod and turned away. + +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. + + + + +XXXV. SILENCE--AND A KNOCK + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +“Who’s there?” he asked, imperiously and with some show of anger. + +No answer, but another quiet knock. + +“Speak! or go from my door. No one has the right to intrude here. What +is your name and business?” + +Continued knocking--nothing more. + +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. + +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. + +Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient sigh, +returned to the door. + +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. + +“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. + +A final knock. + +Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned the key +with his right. + +The door remained unopened. + +Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a moment, +then he spoke up quietly, almost courteously: + +“Enter.” + +But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only the +slightest tap was heard. + +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. + +The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater. + + + + +XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + + +An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, +Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly +remarked: + +“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.” + +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: + +“How long have you been in town?” + +The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had. + +“Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great +misfortune.” + +“Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that business as +unprofitable.” + +“I don’t know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for a rise +sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits.” + +The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow back +into the heart of the midnight woods. + +But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead. “I have buried the +business. You will never resuscitate it through me.” + +Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there was +lightness in his tone as said: + +“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?” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Explain the device.” + +“I will draw it.” + +“You can?” + +“As I see it.” + +“As you see it!” + +“Yes. It’s a brilliant idea; I could never have conceived it.” + +“You believe--” + +“I know.” + +“Sit here. Let’s see what you know.” + +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. + +“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?” + +Brotherson looked and hastily drew back. He did not want the other to +note his surprise. + +“But that is a portion you never saw,” he loudly declared. + +“No, but I saw this,” returned Sweetwater, working busily on some +curves; “and these gave me the fillip I mentioned. The rest came +easily.” + +Brotherson, in dread of his own anger, threw his pistol to the other end +of the shed: + +“You knave! You thief!” he furiously cried. + +“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.” + +“For how many people have you drawn those lines?” thundered the +inexorable voice. + +“For nobody; not for myself even. This is the first time they have left +their hiding-place in my brain.” + +“Can you swear to that?” + +“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. + +“And what surety have I that you do not consider this very matter of +mine as coming within the bounds you speak of?” + +“None. But you must trust me that far.” + +Brotherson surveyed him with an irony which conveyed a very different +message to the detective than any he had intended. Then quickly: + +“To how many have you spoken, dilating upon this device, and publishing +abroad my secret?” + +“I have spoken to no one, not even to Mr. Gryce. That shows my honesty +as nothing else can.” + +“You have kept my secret intact?” + +“Entirely so, sir.” + +“So that no one, here or elsewhere, shares our knowledge of the new +points in this mechanism?” + +“I say so, sir.” + +“Then if I should kill you,” came in ferocious accents, “now--here--” + +“You would be the only one to own that knowledge. But you won’t kill +me.” + +“Why?” + +“Need I go into reasons?” + +“Why? I say.” + +“Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the burden +of another unprovoked crime.” + +Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man who +dared to face him with such an accusation. + +“God! why didn’t I shoot you on entrance!” he cried. “Your courage is +certainly colossal.” + +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: + +“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?” + +“I sincerely do.” + +“You consider yourself competent?” + +“I do.” + +Brotherson’s eyes fell and he walked once to the extremity of the oval +flooring and back. + +“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?” + +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: + +“No! I’ll not--” and paused, caught by a new and irresistible sensation. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +Coming from the shadows, he laid his hand on the cord regulating the +rise and fall of the concealing curtain. + +“Here she is!” he cried and drew the cord. + +The canvas shook, gathered itself into great folds and disappeared in +the shadows from which he had just stepped. + +The air-car stood revealed--a startling, because wholly unique, vision. + +Long did Sweetwater survey it, then turning with beaming face upon the +watchful inventor, he uttered a loud Hurrah. + +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. + + + + +XXXVII. HIS GREAT HOUR + +Saturday night at eight o’clock. + +So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account of +weather. + +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. + +If the tempest should come up before eight! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Mr. Challoner spoke. + +“Who is the man whom Mr. Brotherson has asked to go up with him?” + +It was Oswald who answered. + +“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.” + +“Such reticence seems unpardonable. You have--displayed great patience, +Oswald.” + +“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.” + +“You have confidence then in the success of this undertaking?” + +“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.” + +“I don’t understand.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +But Oswald did not seem satisfied. He continued to look at her in vague +concern. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Will he dare? Will he dare?” whispered Doris, and Oswald answered, +though it seemed next to impossible that he could have heard her: + +“He will dare. But will he survive it? Mr. Challoner,” he suddenly +shouted in that gentleman’s ear, “what time is it now?” + +Mr. Challoner, disengaging himself from their mutual grasp, knelt down +by the lantern to consult his watch. + +“One minute to eight,” he shouted back. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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? + +And the wind! Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before it and +fling it back to earth, a broken and despised toy. + +“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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +“Let me in!” he cried. “You’ve done the trick, Orlando, you’ve done the +trick.” + +“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. + +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. + +As Oswald bounded towards him, he reached out his hand, but his glance +was for Doris. + +“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--” + +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-- + +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. + + + + +XXXVIII. NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A man stood directly in his way, as he made for the front door. It was +Mr. Challoner. + +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: + +“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.” + +The older gentleman hesitated, seeking possibly for composure, and when +he answered it was not only without irony but with a certain forced +respect: + +“Mr. Sweetwater has just left for New York, Mr. Brotherson. He will +carry with him, no doubt, the full particulars of your great success.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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--” + +“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--” + +Orlando frowned. + +“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.’” + +But the hand he reached for did not rise at his command, though Oswald +started erect and faced him with manly earnestness. + +“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.” + +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: + +“Did you love Edith Challoner so much as that?” + +A glance from Oswald’s eye, sadder than any tear. + +“So that you cannot be reconciled?” + +A gesture. Oswald’s words were always few. + +Orlando’s frown deepened. + +“Such grief I partly understand,” said he. “But time will cure it. Some +day another lovely face--” + +“We’ll not talk of that, Orlando.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Then you do blame me?” Orlando turned and was looking full at Oswald. + +“I blame your unreasonableness and your overweening pride.” + +Orlando stood a moment, then moved towards the door. The heaviness of +his step smote upon Oswald’s ear and caused him to exclaim: + +“Forgive me, Orlando.” But the other cut him short with an imperative: + +“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. + +No heartfelt understanding was possible between these two men. + +Crossing the hall, Orlando knocked at the door of Doris’ little +sitting-room. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“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.” + +“Impossible,” she murmured. + +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: + +“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. + +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. + +Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable small +things without a name, skurried from lair to lair. + +He heard them not. + +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. + +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. + +He had crossed the Rubicon of this world’s hopes and fears, but he had +been unconscious of the passage. + + + + +XXXIX. THE AVENGER + + + “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.” + +Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and +heartrending duties since the blow which had desolated his home fell +upon him. + +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. + +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: + +“Are we alone, Mr. Challoner, or is that man Sweetwater lurking +somewhere within hearing?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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. + +Mr. Brotherson took a step forward. His manner was as cold as the heart +which lay like a stone in his bosom. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +Brotherson went coldly on: + +“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.” + +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: + +“There was another--a poor woman--she died suddenly--and her wound was +not unlike that inflicted upon Edith. Did you--” + +“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--” + +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. + +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. + +Orlando could scarcely raise his hand before the other’s was upon his +throat. + +“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!” + + + + +XL. DESOLATE + + +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. + +“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.” + +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-- + +Impetuously Oswald struggled with his weakness, raised himself in Mr. +Challoner’s arms and cried in loud revolt: + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“I cannot,” said he--“not even the left one. May God forgive me!” + +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. + +“Where are you going?” he demanded in tones which made Orlando turn. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + + + + +XLI. FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING + + +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?” + +Four o’clock! The light was still burning, the pile of letters he was +writing increasing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XLII. AT SIX + + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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: + +“I do not know why you have come back, but never was man more welcome. +Mr. Brotherson has confessed.” + +“Confessed!” + +“Yes, he killed both women; my daughter and his neighbour, the +washerwoman, with a--” + +“Wait,” broke in Sweetwater, eagerly, “let me tell you.” And stooping, +he whispered something in the other’s ear. + +Mr. Challoner stared at him amazed, then slowly nodded his head. + +“How came you to think--” he began; but Sweetwater in his great anxiety +interrupted him with a quick: + +“Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? Where +is he? That’s the important thing now.” + +“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?” + +“In his hangar in the woods. Where else would he go to--” + +“I have thought of that. Shall we start out alone or take witnesses with +us?” + +“We will go alone. Does Oswald anticipate--” + +“He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in there. +Doris and her father are with him.” + +“We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it will hold +off for another hour.” + +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. + +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. + +A murmur of dismay greeted him. The oval of that great lid stood up +against the forest background. + +“He has escaped,” cried Mr. Challoner. + +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! + +The two men drew back and their glances crossed. + +“Let us return to the highroad,” whispered Sweetwater; “we can see +nothing here.” + +Mr. Challoner, trembling very much, wheeled slowly about. + +“Wait,” enjoined Sweetwater. “First let me take a look inside.” + +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. + +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.” + +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: + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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: + +“Take them away! I saw him; he was falling like a shot.” + +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. + + + + + +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 1857-0.txt or 1857-0.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 + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1857-0.zip b/1857-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3804c6b --- /dev/null +++ b/1857-0.zip diff --git a/1857-h.zip b/1857-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..59ee0e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/1857-h.zip 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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/1857.txt b/1857.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5aa281b --- /dev/null +++ b/1857.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10367 @@ +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 + +Posting Date: October 10, 2008 [EBook #1857] +Release Date: August, 1999 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INITIALS ONLY *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +INITIALS ONLY + +by Anna Katharine Green + + + + +CONTENTS + + BOOK I + + AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + + I POINSETTIAS + II "I KNOW THE MAN" + III THE MAN + IV SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + V THE RED CLOAK + VI INTEGRITY + VII THE LETTERS + VIII STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + IX THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + + + BOOK II + + AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + + X A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + XI ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + XII Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + XIII TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN'S HEART + XIV A CONCESSION + XV THAT'S THE QUESTION + XVI OPPOSED + XVII IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + XVIII WHAT AM I TO DO NOW? + XIX THE DANGER MOMENT + XX CONFUSION + XXI A CHANGE + XXII O. B. AGAIN + + + BOOK III + + THE HEART OF MAN + + XXIII DORIS + XXIV SUSPENSE + XXV THE OVAL HUT + XXVI SWEETWATER RETURNS + XXVII THE IMAGE OF DREAD + XXVIII I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + XXIX DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER? + XXX CHAOS + XXXI WHAT IS HE MAKING? + XXXII TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + XXXIII ALONE! + XXXIV THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + XXXV SILENCE--AND A KNOCK + XXXVI THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + XXXVII HIS GREAT HOUR + XXXVIII NIGHT + XXXIX THE AVENGER + XL DESOLATE + XLI FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING + XLII AT SIX + + + + + + +BOOK I. AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + + + + +I. POINSETTIAS + + +"A remarkable man!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +I pointed to a man hurrying around the corner just ahead of us. + +"Yes, he's remarkably well built. I noticed him when he came out of the +Clermont." This was a hotel we had just passed. + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Pilate!" escaped my lips, in a sort of nervous chuckle. But George +shook his head at me. + +"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--" + +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. + +"What's the matter?" I cried. "What can have happened? Let's go see, +George. Perhaps it has something to do with our man." + +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. + +"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." + +"He came out of the Clermont," I suggested. + +"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." + +"I'll be quiet." + +"Remember." + +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: + +"Is it murder?" + +"The beautiful Miss Challoner!" + +"A millionairess in her own right!" + +"Killed, they say." + +"No, no! suddenly dead; that's all." + +"George, what shall we do?" I managed to cry into my husband's ear. + +"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." + +"But--but is it right?" I urged, in an importunate whisper. "Should we +go home while he--" + +"Hush! My first duty is to you. We will go make our visit; but +to-morrow--" + +"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. + +He drew me as near to the edge of the crowd as he could. There were new +murmurs all about us. + +"If it's a case of heart-failure, why send for the police?" asked one. + +"It is better to have an officer or two here," grumbled another. + +"Here comes a cop." + +"Well, I'm going to vamoose." + +"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." + +Slater was the assistant manager of the Clermont, and one of George's +oldest friends. + +"Then hurry," said I. "I am being crushed here." + +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. + +"Let us in, Slater," he begged. "My wife feels a little faint; she has +been knocked about so by the crowd." + +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. + +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--" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +"Was she alone when she fell?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Are you feeling quite well, now?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes, and had been writing a letter. She fell with it still in her +hand." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was fixed with a purpose I had no trouble in understanding. + + + + +II. "I KNOW THE MAN" + + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"Hush! Let us listen rather than talk. What are they saying over there? +Can you hear?" + +"No. And I cannot bear to look. Yet I don't want to go away. It's all so +dreadful." + +"It's devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you for a +moment. Do you mind?" + +"No, no; yet--" + +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. + +He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of +increased agitation. + +"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." + +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. + + +"Are you going to tell him?" was my question to George as we made our +way down to the lobby. + +"That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite +remote from this business." + +"I shall not like that." + +"I know, my dear, but it is best." + +I could not gainsay this. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me--tell," I begged. + +He tried to smile at my eagerness, but the attempt was ghastly. + +"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." + +"I will tell what I saw," said I. + +"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." + +"We can never make them understand how he looked." + +"No. I don't expect to." + +"Or his manner as he fled." + +"Nor that either." + +"We can only describe what we saw him do." + +"That's all." + +"Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don't believe +he shot her." + +"He must have." + +"But they would have seen--have heard--the people around, I mean." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +George bowed, and the chief spokesman--I am sure he was a police-officer +of some kind--asked him to tell what it was. + +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: + +"It's the peculiarity of the occurrence which affects my husband. The +thing we saw may mean nothing." + +"Let us hear what it was and we will judge." + +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. + +"Washed his hands--a gentleman--out there in the snow--just after the +alarm was raised here?" repeated one. + +"And you saw him come out of this house?" another put in. + +"Yes, sir; we noticed him particularly." + +"Can you describe him?" + +It was Mr. Slater who put this question; he had less control over +himself, and considerable eagerness could be heard in his voice. + +"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." + +"His clothes. Describe his clothes." There was an odd sound in Mr. +Slater's voice. + +"He wore a silk hat and there was fur on his overcoat. I think the fur +was black." + +Mr. Slater stepped back, then moved forward again with a determined air. + +"I know the man," said he. + + + + +III. THE MAN + + +"You know the man?" + +"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." + +"His name." + +"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." + +"A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together." + +"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." + +"Call up Clausen." + +The manager stepped to the telephone. + +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-- + +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. + +I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I raised my +hand and pointed down at the street. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Slater at once put his question: + +"Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?" + +"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--" + +"Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly just +before." + +"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." + +"But you are sure of that back?" + +"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." + +"Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him." + +The old man bowed and went out. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + _____________________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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The writing was in Mr. Slater's hand, and the words were: + + "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." + + + + +IV. SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + + +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. + +Instantly they absorbed all my attention, though I dared not give them a +direct look, and continued to observe them only in the glass. + +"Is it one family?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Their word ought to be good." + +George nodded. + +"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?" + +"They did last night. I don't know how they will meet this statement of +the doctor's." + +"George?" + +He leaned nearer. + +"Have you ever thought that she might have been a suicide? That she +stabbed herself?" + +"No, for in that case a weapon would have been found." + +"And are you sure that none was?" + +"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." + +"And the detectives are still here?" + +"I just saw one." + +"George?" + +Again his head came nearer. + +"Have they searched the lobby? I believe she had a weapon." + +"Laura!" + +"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--" + +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. + +"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. + +"A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously +homely but agreeable enough. I took quite a fancy to him. Why?" + +"I am looking at him now." + +"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." + +"He is watching those people. No, he isn't. How quickly he disappeared!" + +"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." + +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. + +"What does he want?" I asked, as soon as George had returned to my side. + +"He wants me to stand ready to obey any summons the police may send me." + +"Then they still suspect Brotherson?" + +"They must." + +My head rose a trifle as I glanced up at George. + +"Then we are not altogether out of it?" I emphasised, complacently. + +He smiled which hardly seemed apropos. Why does George sometimes smile +when I am in my most serious moods. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I doubt if you would have been given the opportunity. I noticed that we +were slightly de trop towards the last." + +"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." + +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. + +"No," he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. "Been pushed about all +day. No time for anything." + +"Then let me tell you--" + +But he would have dinner first. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"What are the points? What's the difficulty?" he asked. "A woman has +been shot--" + +"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." + +"Dr. Heath is a reliable man and one of our ablest coroners." + +"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?" + +"Yes; so much was told me on my way down." + +"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." + +"Suicide by stabbing calls for a weapon. Yet none has been found, I +hear." + +"None." + +"Yet she was killed that way?" + +"Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than a needle +but not so large as the ordinary stiletto." + +"Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She had no +companion near her?" + +"None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who were +seated at the other end of the room." + +"And you do believe them?" + +"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." + +"It wouldn't seem so." + +"Yet they swear up and down that nobody crossed the room towards Miss +Challoner." + +"So they tell me." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Will you take my arm, sir?" + +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. + +"Have you had a chance at this thing?" he asked. "Been over the +ground--studied the affair carefully?" + +"Yes, sir; they were good enough to allow it." + +"Very well, then, you're in a position to pioneer me. You've seen it all +and won't be in a hurry." + +"No; I'm at the end of my rope. I haven't an idea, sir." + +"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." + +Nevertheless, he looked ten years younger than when he came in, or so +thought those who knew him. + +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. + +"Who were the first to rush in here after the Parrishes gave the alarm?" + +"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." + +"Good! their names?" + +"Mark Sowerby and Claus Hennerberg. Honest Germans--men who have played +here for years." + +"And who followed them? Who came next on the scene?" + +"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." + +"Who did touch her? Anybody, before the father came in?" + +"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." + +"I suppose she has been carefully questioned?" + +"Very, I should say." + +"And she speaks of no weapon?" + +"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." + +"Father and all?" + +"Yes." + +"But the blood? Surely there must have been some show of blood?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at the +time, says that ten minutes at least must have elapsed." + +"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?" + +"Yes, great big scarlet ones. Nobody noticed--nobody looked. A panic +like that seems to paralyse people." + +"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." + +"You will like her. You will believe every word she says." + +"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." + +"The stones have all been turned over once." + +"By you?" + +"Not altogether by me." + +"Then they will bear being turned over again. I want to be witness of +the operation." + +"Where will you see Miss Clarke?" + +"Wherever she pleases--only I can't walk far." + +"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." + +"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." + +Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be fully +enlightened when the time came. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Did you manage it?" + +"I succeeded in getting her head into my lap, nothing more." + +"And sat so?" + +"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." + +"You knew she was dead, then?" + +"I felt her to be so." + +"How felt?" + +"I was sure--I never questioned it." + +"You have seen women in a faint?" + +"Yes, many times." + +"What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner dead +simply because she lay still and apparently lifeless?" + +"I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only know how +I felt." + +"Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or +unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her heart?" + +Miss Clarke started, and her sweet face showed a moment's perplexity. + +"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." + +"No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me positively +whether you did this or not?" + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"The only one," echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight rising +sound of query in his voice. + +"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. + +"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." + +It was this statement, otherwise worded, which gave me my triumph over +George. + + + + +V. THE RED CLOAK + + +"What results? Speak up, Sweetwater." + +"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." + +"There now remain the guests." + +"And after them--(pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which rushed +in rather promiscuously last night." + +"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." + +A bulletin was put up. + +Some hours later, Sweetwater re-entered the room, and, approaching Mr. +Gryce with a smile, blurted out: + +"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." + +"Embarrassment? Humph! a man?" + +"No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients. I found out in a jiffy +all they could tell me about her." + +"A woman! We didn't expect that. Where is she? Still in the lobby?" + +"No, sir. She took the elevator while I was talking with the clerk." + +"There's nothing in it. You mistook her expression." + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce nodded thoughtfully, but made no immediate effort to rise. + +"Is that all you know about her?" he asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Sweetwater did as he was bid, then went back to his place in the lobby. + +But he returned almost instantly. + +"Mrs. Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to--to leave, +sir." + +"To leave?" + +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." + +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: + + "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." + + +"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." + +"Here goes then!" cried Sweetwater, and quickly left the room. + +When he returned, it was not with his most hopeful air. + +"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." + +"She did! Sweetwater, I will see her. Manage it for me at once." + +"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." + +"Very well." But the look which the old detective threw at his bandaged +legs was not without its pathos. + +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: + +"Am I speaking to Mrs. Watkins of Nashville?" + +"You are," she faltered, with another rapid change of colour. "I--I am +just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I--" + +"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?" + +"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--" + +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:-- + +"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--" + +"Yes." She raised her head. "So were a dozen others--" + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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: + +"All ready, mother. I'm glad we are going to the Clarendon. I hate +hotels where people die almost before your eyes." + +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. + +"Who is this?" demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing from +one to the other. + +"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--" + +"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. + +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: + +"The person who stooped wore a long red cloak. Probably you preceded +your daughter, Mrs. Watkins." + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Caroline"--Then the mother broke down. "Show the gentleman what you +picked up from the lobby floor last night." + +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. + +"It was lying there and I picked it up. I don't see any harm in that." + +"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. + +"You have washed this?" he asked. + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Does that frighten you? Are you so affected by the thought of blood?" + +"Don't ask me. And I put the thing under my pillow! I thought it was +so--so pretty." + +"Mrs. Watkins," Mr. Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter, "did +you see it there?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"None whatever, Madam." + +"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." + +"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." + +Her shudder, as she seated herself, was very convincing. She was too +young to simulate so successfully emotions of this character. + +"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." + +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. + +"They are the same she is wearing now," the anxious mother assured him. +"Wait, and I will get them for you." + +"No need. Let her hold out her hands in token of amity. I shall soon +see." + +They returned to where the girl still sat, wrapped in her cloak, sobbing +still, but not so violently. + +"Caroline, you may take off your things," said the mother, drawing the +pins from her own hat. "We shall not go to-day." + +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. + +"Will--will he tell?" she whispered behind its ample folds into her +mother's ear. + +The answer came quickly, but not in the mother's tones. Mr. Gryce's ears +had lost none of their ancient acuteness. + +"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?" + +"No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn't have to step out of +my way; I really didn't." + +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. + +He could soon tell. + + + + +VI. INTEGRITY + + +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: + +"I have but one idea left on the subject." + +"And what is that?" Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment. + +"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." + +"Sweetwater!" + +A faint blush rose to the old man's cheek. + +"Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over?" + +"Yes." + +The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it was with +a downcast air. + +"Nothing doing," said he. + +And then there was silence. + +"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. + +"That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it to her +maid?" + +"If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem inclined +to speak. + +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. + +Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then laid +it down again, with an air of seeming abstraction. + +The father's attention was caught. + +"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--" + +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: + +"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to think +it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?" + +"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!" + +Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with the +truth. + +"It was picked up--last night--from the lobby floor. There is seemingly +nothing to connect it with her death. Yet--" + +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: + +"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--" + +"What about the one?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +"They are the letters of a gentleman." + +"With the one exception." + +"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: + +"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." + +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? + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +VII. THE LETTERS + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Gryce, this is a dark case," he observed, as at his bidding the +two detectives took their seats. + +Mr. Gryce nodded; so did Sweetwater. + +"The darkest that has ever come to my knowledge," pursued the coroner. + +Mr. Gryce again nodded; but not so, Sweetwater. For some reason this +simple expression of opinion seemed to have given him a mental start. + +"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." + +"I'm sorry that I've been able to do so little," remarked Mr. Gryce. + +The coroner darted him a quick look. + +"You are not satisfied? You have some different idea?" he asked. + +The detective frowned at his hands crossed over the top of his cane, +then shaking his head, replied: + +"The verdict you mention is the only natural one, of course. I see that +you have been talking with Miss Challoner's former maid?" + +"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." + +And Dr. Heath read: + + "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." + +"A threat!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Brotherson!" exclaimed the young detective in loud surprise. +"Brotherson! The man who--" + +"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." + +"Brotherson!" The word came softly now, and with a thoughtful +intonation. "He saw her die." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"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." + +"Have you settled it beyond dispute that Brotherson is really the man +who was seen doing this?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Not Miss Challoner's maid?" + +"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." + +"I'll find the man; I have a double reason for doing that now; he shall +not escape me." + +Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction, and gave some orders. Meanwhile, +Mr. Gryce had not uttered a word. + + + + +VIII. STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + + +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. + +"Wake up, little woman," I heard, "and trot away to bed. I'm going out +and may not be in till daybreak." + +"You! going out! at ten o'clock at night, tired as you are--as we both +are! What has happened--Oh!" + +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. + +"Mr. Sweetwater," explained George. "We are going out together. It is +necessary, or you may be sure I should not leave you." + +I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. "Oh, I know. You are +going to hunt up the man. How I wish--" + +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. + +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. + +As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towards +George and said: + +"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?" + +"I think so. There's his height and a certain strong look in his face. I +cannot describe it." + +"You don't need to. Come! we're all right. You don't mind making a night +of it?" + +"Not if it is necessary." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +When they stopped, which was in a few minutes, he said to George: + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +"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?" + +"Is this a secret one?" + +"It wasn't advertised." + +"Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?" + +"I am a carpenter. Don't you think you can be a mason for the occasion?" + +"I doubt it, but--" + +"Hush! I must speak to this man." + +George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and a +shadowy figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk. + +"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. + +"He didn't go in by it; yet I believe he's safe enough inside," was the +muttered answer. + +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. + +"Are we going back? Are you going to give up the job?" George asked. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"But we! What are we going to do if we cannot get in front or rear?" + +"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." + +"Perhaps it swings on hinges," suggested George. "It looks like that +sort of a window." + +"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?" + +George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an amused +grunt, softly unlatched the window and pulled it wide open. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of impatience +and regret, pushed the window to before asking George this question: + +"Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, your +attention outside the Clermont?" + +"No." + +"Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over the +speaker's head?" + +"Yes, but I could judge nothing from that." + +"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." + +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: + +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: + +"Who's that? What do you want down there?" + +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: + +"It's the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man we're +after--the one who shouted down?" + +"No. Neither was he the speaker. The voices are very different." + +"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." + +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. + +"Well?" inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. "Do you want me? They +don't seem to be coming out." + +"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?" + + + + +IX. THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + +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. + +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. + +"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? + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +"Yes; but-" + +"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." + +George felt non-plussed. + +"But surely," said he, "the gentleman named Brotherson doesn't live +here." + +"The inventor does." + +"Oh!" + +"And--but I will explain later." + +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: + +Don't look up till he is fairly in range with the light. + +There's nothing to fear; he doesn't know either of us. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +George shook his head. He could not rid himself of the old impression he +had formed of the man in the snow. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +He was returning to them from the door he had unlocked and left slightly +ajar. + +"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." + +"I have nothing to do with the club--" + +"But you spoke before it." + +"Yes." + +"Then you can give us some sort of an idea how we are to apply for +membership." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You seem to have forgotten your errand," came in quiet, if not +good-natured, sarcasm from their patiently waiting host. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He might +witness and hear, but it was long before he understood. + +"Brotherson?" repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to the +breaking-point. "Why do you call me that?" + +"Because it is your name." + +"You called me Dunn a minute ago." + +"That is true." + +"Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?" + +"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." + +"And you? By what name are you known?" + +"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?" + +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: + +"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?" + +He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, +lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +But you will not lack a suitable guide. + + + + + + + +BOOK II. AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + + + + +X. A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + + +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. + +"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." + +The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyed +him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow expected. + +"You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort those +papers over there, you may." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Mr. Brotherson, I believe," said he, as he motioned his visitor to sit. + +"That is my name, sir." + +"Orlando Brotherson?" + +"The same, sir." + +"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." + +"Miss Challoner?" + +"Certainly; Miss Challoner." + +"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." + +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: + +"Do you recognise the signature?" + +"Yes, it is mine." + +"Then you acknowledge yourself the author of these lines?" + +"Most certainly. Have I not said that this is my signature?" + +"Do you remember the words of this note, Mr. Brotherson?" + +"Hardly. I recollect its tenor, but not the exact words." + +"Read them." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"You ask that?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Ah! and so you thought a threat was due her?" + +"A threat?" + +"These words contain a threat, do they not?" + +"They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may have +expressed myself in an unfortunate manner." + +"Read the words, Mr. Brotherson. I really must insist that you do so." + +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: + +"I remember it perfectly now. It is not a letter to be proud of. I +hope--" + +"Pray finish, Mr. Brotherson." + +"That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this letter +and her violent death?" + +"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." + +"Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate my +influence with the lady you name." + +"You believe, then, that she was sincere in her rejection of your +addresses?" + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Your wish can very easily be gratified," returned the official, +pressing an electric button on his desk. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"This good-bye--do you remember it? The exact language, I mean?" + +"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." + +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. + +"This was when?" put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which +must have been very painful to the listening father. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +"Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this one +outburst whatever humiliation I felt." + +"And she? Did she give no sign, make you no answer?" + +"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." + +This time his bitterness did not pass unrebuked by the coroner: + +"Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, and +respect his grief." + +Mr. Brotherson bowed. + +"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. + +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: + +"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." + +"On the spot?" + +"In the hotel, I mean." + +"There you are right; I was in the hotel." + +"At the time of her death?" + +"Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the lobby +behind me, just as I was passing out at the Broadway entrance." + +"You did, and did not return?" + +"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." + +This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so frank +that the coroner hesitated a moment before he said: + +"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." + +"I had no interview with Miss Challoner." + +"But you saw her? Saw her that evening and just before the accident?" + +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?" + +"Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yet +directly and with no possibility of mistake." + +"Do you put that as a question?" + +"I do. Did you see her figure or face that night?" + +"I did." + +Nothing--not even the rattling of Sweetwater's papers--disturbed the +silence which followed this admission. + +"From where?" Dr. Heath asked at last. + +"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." + +"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." + +"It was--such--a spot." + +"Then I think I can locate it for you, or do you prefer to locate it +yourself?" + +"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." + +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. + +"You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and what was +in it? Anything?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly conscious +of perhaps himself, he asked in an off-hand way: + +"Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair the +moment you had left the hotel?" + +"I do not understand." + +"You passed around the corner into--street, did you not?" + +"Very likely. I could go that way as well as another." + +"And stopped at the first lamp-post?" + +"Oh, I see. Someone saw that childish action of mine." + +"What did you mean by it?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +But the feeling did not last. + +"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." + + + + +XI. ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + + +"Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You must +decide which." + +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. + +"Sweetwater, is that you?" + +"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." + +A grunt from the region of the library table, then the sarcastic remark: + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Nor any evidence that it had ever been there." + +"No. I'm not proud of the chain which lacks a link where it should be +strongest." + +"We shall never supply that link." + +"I quite agree with you." + +"That chain we must throw away." + +"And forge another?" + +Sweetwater approached and sat down. + +"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--" + +"What, Sweetwater?" + +"A well-founded distrust. Mr. Gryce, I'm going to ask you a question." + +"Ask away. Ask fifty if you want to." + +"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?" + +"No, it stands alone. That's why it is so puzzling." + +"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--" + +"Wait! the washerwoman in Hicks Street! Sweetwater, what have you got up +your sleeve? You do mean that Brooklyn washerwoman, don't you?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +And he read: + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'His reply threw them all into confusion. The tenant of that room was +the best, the quietest and most respectable man in either building. + +"'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.' + +"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. + +"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? + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + + + + +XII. Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And here's mine." + +Next minute the two heads were closer than ever together, and the +business had begun. + + + + +XIII. TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN'S HEART + + +"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." + +"Humph! we will set that down, then, as so much against us." + +"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." + +"True. The problem is such as a nightmare offers. For years my dreams +have been haunted by a gnome who proposes just such puzzles." + +"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." + +"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.'" + +"Gosh! has he heard this story?" + +"Who?" + +"The gentleman in question." + +"Mr. Brotherson?" + +"Yes." + +"I don't think so. It was told me in confidence." + +"Told you, Mr. Gryce? Pardon my curiosity." + +"By Mr. Challoner." + +"Oh! by Mr. Challoner." + +"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." + +"And what--what did you--say?" asked Sweetwater, with a halting +utterance and his face full of thought. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How can you be sure?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"I must be at Headquarters to-morrow." + +"Good, then let it be to-morrow. A taxicab, Sweetwater. The subway for +the young. I can no longer manage the stairs." + + + + +XIV. A CONCESSION + + +"It is true; there seems to be something extraordinary in the +coincidence." + +Thus Mr. Brotherson, in the presence of the Inspector. + +"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?" + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Again that chill smile preceding the quiet answer: + +"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." + +"But why make use of one name as a gentleman of leisure and quite a +different one as the honest workman?" + +"Ah, there you touch upon my real secret. I have a reason for keeping my +identity quiet till my invention is completed." + +"A reason connected with your anarchistic tendencies?" + +"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." + +"We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn. Physical overthrow carries more than +the immediate sufferer with it." + +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. + +Perhaps it was of a nature to surprise even him. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Do you mind telling us where you went in New York?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +He was half-way out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the +Inspector drew him back. + +"Anything more?" he asked. + +The Inspector smiled. + +"You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. +Brotherson. You must have decided long ago how this woman died." + +"Is that a question, Inspector?" + +"You may take it as such." + +"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." + +The air seemed to have lost its vitality and the sun its sparkle when he +was gone. + +"Now, what do you think, Gryce?" + +The old man rose and came out of his corner. + +"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." + +"I'm inclined to believe him the latter." + +"And so give the whole matter the go-by?" + +"Possibly." + +"It will be a terrible disappointment to Sweetwater." + +"That's nothing." + +"And to me." + +"That's different. I'm disposed to consider you, Gryce--after all these +years." + +"Thank you; I have done the state some service." + +"What do you want? You say the mine is unworkable." + +"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." + +"The outlay? I am thinking of the outlay." + +"Mr. Challoner will see to that. I have his word that no reasonable +amount will daunt him." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + + + + +XV. THAT'S THE QUESTION + + +"How many times has he seen you?" + +"Twice." + +"So that he knows your face and figure?" + +"I'm afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him in his +own room." + +"That's unfortunate." + +"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." + +"You've done very well as it is." + +"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." + +"Do. It'll make you look as weak as water. It'll be blonde, of course." + +"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. + +"Sweetwater! We'd better give the task to another man--to someone +Brotherson has never seen and won't be suspicious of?" + +"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." + +"But the doubt. Can you do all this in doubt of the issue?" + +"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." + +"Yes, that's essential." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"My mother's--Zugg." + +"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." + +"Thanks. You're sure the Superintendent is with me?" + +"Yes, but not the Inspector. He sees nothing but the victim of a strange +coincidence in Orlando Brotherson." + +"Again the scales hang even. But they won't remain so. One side is bound +to rise. Which? That's the question, Mr. Gryce." + + + + +XVI. OPPOSED + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Not much sleep, eh? We didn't think you'd like it. Did you see +anything?" + +Now this gave him the one excuse he wanted. + +"See anything?" he repeated, apparently with all imaginable innocence. +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Don't you know what happened in that room?" + +"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. + +At half past six he found the janitor. He was, to all appearance, in a +state of great excitement and he spoke very fast. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +The first page of his adventure in the Hicks Street tenement had been +turned, and he was ready to start upon another. + + + + +XVII. IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + + +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: + +"Halloo! coming to live in this hole?" + +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: + +"Yes, this is to be my castle. Are you the owner of the buildings? If +so--" + +"I am not the owner. I live next door. Haven't I seen you before, young +man?" + +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: + +"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." + +Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. Brotherson +stared at the youth, then ventured another question: + +"A carpenter, eh?" + +"Yes, and I'm an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It's my one card of +introduction." + +"I've seen you. I've seen you somewhere else than in Schuper's shop. Do +you remember me?" + +"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. + +But Brotherson was not to be caught. + +"You slept in the building last night? In the other half, I mean?" + +"Yes, I--slept." + +The strong lip of the other man curled disdainfully. + +"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?" + +"Yes; they told me so this morning." + +"Was that the first you'd heard of it?" + +"Sure!" The word almost jumped at the questioner. "Do you suppose I'd +have taken the room if--" + +But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out, +disgust in every feature,--plain, unmistakable, downright disgust, and +nothing more! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"You're better this evening," he heard in those kindly tones which so +confused and irritated him. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Relieved for the moment, he left his post and, sitting down on the edge +of his cot, gave himself up to thought. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"You find me at work," he remarked. "I don't suppose you understand any +but your own?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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? + +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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + + +XVIII. WHAT AM I TO DO NOW + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +The young detective's moment had come. + +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. + + +A strain of well-known music broke softly, from the box and sent its +vibrations through the wall. + +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. + +It was Edith! Miss Challoner's first name, and the tone bespoke a shaken +soul. + +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--" + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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-- + +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. + +"The man is too strong for me," he cried. "His heart is granite; he +meets my every move. What am I to do now?" + + + + +XIX. THE DANGER MOMENT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Sweetwater in the darkness of his closet laughed in his gleeful +appreciation. + +"Great!" was his comment. "Just great! She has thought of everything--or +Mr. Gryce has." + +Meanwhile, the girl was proceeding with increased volubility. + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No one can overhear." + +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." + +"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?" + +"I believe you to have taken every advantage possible to spy upon your +mistress. I believe that, yes." + +"From interest, monsieur, from great interest." + +"Self-interest." + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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!" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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: + + "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-" + +The paper dropped from the reader's hand. It was several minutes before +he took up another. + +This one, as it happened, antedated the other, as will appear on reading +it: + + "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." + +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. + +A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding sheet. +The following was read, and then the fourth and last: + + "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?" + + + + +XX. CONFUSION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +The frown had come back to the forehead of the indignant man who +confronted him. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I do not believe you." + +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. + +"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." + +With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a smile, +he nodded and left the room. + + + + +XXI. A CHANGE + + +"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." + +But our young detective did neither. + +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: + +"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." + + + + +XXII. O. B. AGAIN + + +"What's happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so after +this confounded failure." + +"Failure? Didn't he read the letters?" + +"Yes, he read them. Had to, but--" + +"Didn't weaken? Eh?" + +"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." + +"Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn't know that +it ran that high." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"N--no." The hesitating admission was only a proof of Sweetwater's +obstinacy. + +"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." + +"Only another? I thought there were a half-dozen, at least." + +"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." + +"Two O. B.s! Isn't that incredible, Mr. Gryce?" + +"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." + +"The second O. B.?" + +"Yes." + +Sweetwater's face instantly lit up. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"The Superintendent--how does he feel about it?" + +"He was the first one to mention you." + +"And the Inspector?" + +"Is glad to see us on a new tack." + +A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective's eye +clouded over. Presently he remarked: + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce's eyes twinkled. + +"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." + +"The prospect grows pleasing. Where am I to look for my man?" + +"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." + +"I see. It's a short journey I have before me." + +"It'll bring the colour to your cheeks." + +"Oh, I'm not kicking." + +"You will start to-morrow." + +"Wish it were to-day." + +"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." + +"Another woman!" + +"No, a child;--well, I won't say child exactly; she must be sixteen." + +"Doris Scott." + +"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--" + +"I begin to see." + +"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." + +"Was this letter signed O. B.?" + +"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." + +"How not? Torn off, do you mean?" + +"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." + +"If I remember rightly Miss Challoner's letter to this child was free +from all mystery." + +"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." + +Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and re-read +these lines: + + "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." + + +"That to a child of sixteen!" + +"Just so." + +"D-o-r-i-s spells something besides Doris." + +"Yet there is a Doris. Remember that O. B. says in one of his letters, +'Doris is learning to embroider.'" + +"Yes, I remember that." + +"So you must first find Doris." + +"Very good, sir." + +"And as Miss Challoner's letter was directed to Derby, Pennsylvania, you +will go to Derby." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Anything more?" + +"I've been reading this letter again." + +"It's worth it." + +"The last sentence expresses a hope." + +"That has been noted." + +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." + +Mr. Gryce smiled; but there was more age, wisdom and sympathy for +youthful enthusiasm in that smile than there was confidence or hope. + + + + +BOOK III. THE HEART OF MAN + + + + +XXIII. DORIS + + +"A young girl named Doris Scott?" + +The station-master looked somewhat sharply at the man he was addressing, +and decided to give the direction asked. + +"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-- + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +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: + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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--" + +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." + +"He!" Sweetwater perked up his ears. "Who do you mean by he?" + +"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." + +But a thunderbolt could not have moved Sweetwater after the hearing of +that name. "Mr. Brotherson!" he echoed. "Brotherson! Not Orlando?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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-- + +"Edith! Edith!" + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +She wrenched her hand from his, panting with impatience and a vague +alarm. But she answered him distinctly: + +"On the Twenty-fifth of last month, just an hour after he was made +manager. He fell in a faint at the Works." + +The day--the very day of Miss Challoner's death! + +"Had he heard--did you tell him then or afterwards what happened in New +York on that very date?" + +"No, no, we have not told him. It would have killed him--and may yet." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +Sweetwater allowed himself one minute of thought, then he earnestly +replied: + +"I will keep your secret for to-day, and longer, if possible." + +"Thank you," she cried; "thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your +face." And she again prepared to close the door. + +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?" + +"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." + +"Edith! Edith!" rose in ceaseless reiteration from within. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXIV. SUSPENSE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXV. THE OVAL HUT + + +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. + +His first word, therefore, was a plain announcement. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That I see; but if I knew when I might speak--" + +"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." + +Sweetwater muttered his thanks and rose. Then he slowly sat down again. + +"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?" + +The doctor did not need to speak; his expression conveyed his answer. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS + + +"You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday's intrusion has not +prejudiced you against me." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"There is but one story to tell," she smiled, and her head drooped +softly, but with no air of self-consciousness. + +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." + +"O yes, O yes." + +"More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your very +looks show that." + +"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." + +"And a friend of Mr. Brotherson," supplemented Sweetwater. + +"Yes," she smiled, "he would want me to say so. But that's his goodness. +I don't deserve the honour." + +"His friend and therefore his confidante," Sweetwater continued. "He has +talked to you about Miss Challoner?" + +"He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, I had +seen her and could understand." + +"Where did you see her?" + +"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." + +"That was some time ago?" + +"We were there in June." + +"And you have corresponded ever since with Miss Challoner?" + +"She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times to +answer her." + +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: + +"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." + +She was vehement, instantly vehement, in her disclaimer. + +"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." + +Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner's last letter, and wished he had it +here to give her. In default of this, he said: + +"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." + +Her eyes filled. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Tell me about it." + +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. + +"A meagre haul," he remarked at the close. + +"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." + +"As prejudiced as a bulldog." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small comfort can +I carry him." + + + + +XXVII. THE IMAGE OF DREAD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Who is that, Johnny?" she asked. "You know everybody who comes to town. +What is the name of the gentleman you see coming?" + +The boy looked, searched his memory, not without some show of misgiving. + +"A queer name," he admitted at last. "I never heard the likes of it here +before. Shally something. Shally--Shally--" + +"Challoner?" + +"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." + +"Well, never mind. Run on, Johnny. And don't forget to come earlier +to-morrow; Mr. Brotherson gets tired waiting." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Doris, come here, sweet child. I want you." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Surprised now by something not quite natural in her manner, he caught at +her hand and held her as she was moving away. + +"You are tired," said he. "I've wearied you with my commission and +complaints. Forgive me, dear child, and--" + +"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?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +"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." + +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-- + +Unconsciously the young head drooped, and the pen slid from her hand. + +"I cannot," she murmured, "I cannot think what to say." + +"Shall I help you?" came softly from the bed. "I'll try and not forget +that it is Doris writing." + +"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." + +"Write then. 'Dear Miss Challoner!" + +"I have already written that." + +"Why do you shudder?" + +"I'm cold. I've been cold all day. But never mind that, Mr. Brotherson. +Tell me how to begin my letter." + +"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?" + +"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. + +"Well, leave out the fretful if you must, but keep in the exacting. I +have been exacting, you know." + +Silence, broken only by the scratching of the stubborn, illy-directed +pen. + +"It's down," she whispered. She said, afterward, that it was like +writing with a ghost looking over one's shoulder. + +"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?" + +"No, no, I can follow." + +"But not without losing breath; eh, Doris?" + +As he laughed, she smiled. There was a heroism in that smile, Oswald +Brotherson, of which you knew nothing. + +"You might speak a little more slowly," she admitted. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"You will mail it yourself?" he asked. "I should like to have you put it +into the box with your own hand." + +"I will put it in to-night, after supper," she promised him. + +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. + + + + +XXVIII. I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + + +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. + +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. + +"Miss Scott?" he asked. + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner." + +"You know me?" he went on, one foot on the step and one still on the +walk. + +Before replying she closed the door behind her. Then as she noted his +surprise she carefully explained: + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +She gave him one quick look, trembling so that he offered her his arm +with a fatherly air. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Doris turned her candid eyes upon him. + +"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." + +"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." + +Doris trembled. + +"It was not suicide," she declared, vehemently. "I have always felt sure +that it was not; but to-day I KNOW." + +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? + +"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?" + +"No, not at all," he assured her. "Expect me at eight. Will that be too +early?" + +"No, no. Oh, how those people stared! Let us hasten back or they may +connect your name with what we want kept secret." + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +"Sure of what, Miss Scott?" + +She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer. He had not +taken the chair she preferred. + +"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. + +"A dream, Miss Scott?" He tried to hide his disappointment. + +"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." + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention, he waited till +her eyes met his, then quietly asked: + +"Have you ever named this man to yourself?" + +She started and dropped her eyes. + +"I do not dare to," said she. + +"Why?" + +"Because I've read in the papers that the man who stood there had the +same name as--" + +"Tell me, Miss Scott." + +"As Mr. Brotherson's brother." + +"But you do not think it was his brother?" + +"I do not know." + +"You've never seen his brother?" + +"Never." + +"Nor his picture?" + +"No, Mr. Brotherson has none." + +"Aren't they friends? Does he never mention Orlando?" + +"Very, very rarely. But I've no reason to think they are not on good +terms. I know they correspond." + +"Miss Scott?" + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner." + +"You must not rely too much upon your dream." + +Her eyes flashed to his and then fell again. + +"Dreams are not revelations; they are the reproduction of what already +lies hidden in the mind. I can prove that your dream is such." + +"How?" She looked startled. + +"You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you think +of a pistol." + +"Yes, I was looking directly into it." + +"But my daughter was not shot. She died from a stab." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Who is it?" she asked. "Father's in and visitors seldom come so late." + +"Shall I see?" + +She nodded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, revealing +the tall, strong figure of a man facing them from the porch. + +"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: + +"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!" + + + + +XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, Miss +Scott. Will you let me come in now?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Then I'm not to see him to-night?" + +"I pray you to wait. He's--he's been a very sick man." + +"Dangerously so?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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." + +She shook her head. "I know very little about business," said she. + +"My brother has not told you why he expected me?" + +"He has not even told me that he expected you." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"My brother?" he asked. + +"Yes," came in faltering reply. "He has heard our voices; I must go to +him." + +"Say that Orlando wishes him a good night," smiled her heart's enemy, +with a bow of infinite grace. + +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. + +"I will accompany you into the hall," said he. "Then if anything is +wrong, you have but to speak my name." + +But Orlando Brotherson, displeased by this move, took a step which +brought him between the two. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +But the question finally came. + +"Mr. Challoner, do you know my brother?" + +"I have never seen him." + +"Do you know him? Does he know you?" + +"Not at all. We are strangers." + +It was said honestly. They did not know each other. Mr. Challoner was +quite correct in his statement. + +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. + +He, therefore, allowed himself to press the question: + +"Men sometimes correspond who do not know each other. You knew that a +Brotherson lived here?" + +"Yes." + +"And hoped to learn something about me?" + +"No; my interest was solely with your brother." + +"With my brother? With Oswald? What interest can you have in him apart +from me? Oswald is--" + +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. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"That is fortunate for me," was the courteous reply. + +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. + + + + +XXX. CHAOS + + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"You see me again, Mr. Challoner. May I beg of you a few minutes' +further conversation? I will not detain you long." + +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. + +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. + +"What do you wish to ask?" was Mr. Challoner's immediate inquiry. + +"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?" + +"No." + +"She was acquainted with Oswald Brotherson?" + +"She was." + +"Without your knowledge?" + +"Entirely so." + +"Corresponded with him?" + +"Not exactly." + +"How, not exactly?" + +"He wrote to her--occasionally. She wrote to him frequently--but she +never sent her letters." + +"Ah!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"I know it." + +"And that is why I found you in the same house with him." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I am not given to exaggeration," was the even reply. + +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. + +"You have still something to say," suggested the latter, as an +oppressive silence swallowed up that icy sentence I have already +recorded. + +"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." + +"You mean--" + +"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. + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Unhappy truths cannot be long concealed. How soon does the doctor think +my brother can bear these inevitable revelations?" + +"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." + +Orlando bowed his appreciation of this fact, but added quickly: + +"Who is to do the telling?" + +"Doris. Nobody else could be trusted with so delicate a task." + +"I wish to be present." + +Mr. Challoner looked up, surprised at the feeling with which this +request was charged. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +The hand on the door-knob made a sudden movement. + +"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. + +Orlando watched him till the door closed, then he too dropped his mask. + +But it was on again, when in a little while he passed through the +sitting-room on his way upstairs. + +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. + + + + +XXXI. WHAT IS HE MAKING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You see I am here," was the stranger's low greeting. + +"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?" + +"I stopped at her door." + +"Was that safe?" + +"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." + +"What is he making?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"May Heaven help your efforts!" + +"I shall need its assistance," was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater was by +no means blind to the difficulties awaiting him. + + + + +XXXII. TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"What is the matter, child? So weary, eh? Nothing worse than that, I +hope." + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Dead!" he shrieked out, and fell back fainting in his chair, his lips +still murmuring in semi-unconsciousness, "Dead! dead!" + +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! + +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. + +"Doris?" + +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. + +"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: + +"How long?" + +She answered them as simply. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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--" + +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." + +And Doris told him: + +"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." + +"Edith? never!" + +The words were chokingly said; he was swaying, almost falling, but he +steadied himself. + +"Who says that?" he asked. + +"It was the coroner's verdict." + +"And she died that way--died?" + +"Immediately." + +"After writing to you?" + +"Yes." + +"What was in that letter?" + +"Nothing of threat, they say. Only just cheer and expressions of hope. +Just like the others, Mr. Brotherson." + +"And they accuse her of taking her own life? Their verdict is a lie. +They did not know her." + +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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Do they know of--of my interest in this?" + +"Yes; they know about the two O. B.s." + +"The two--" He was on his feet again, but only for a moment; his +weakness was greater than his will power. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"He met her at Lenox." + +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: + +"Yes, yes, I remember. I sent him there--" and paused, his mind blank +again. + +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. + +"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." + +"He did not know them." + +A laugh; a laugh which paled Doris' cheek; then his tones grew even +again, memory came back and he muttered faintly: + +"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." + +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." + +"He wrote her a letter; it frightened her. He followed it up by a +visit--" + +Doris paused; the sentence hung suspended. She had heard a step--a hand +on the door. + +Orlando had entered the room. + + + + +XXXIII. ALONE + + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Speak! I am bound to listen; you are my brother." + +Orlando turned towards Doris. She was slipping away. + +"Don't go," said he. + +But she was gone. + +Slowly he turned back. + +Oswald raised his hand and checked the words with which he would have +begun his story. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"And what?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Edith?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +But of all this Oswald had caught but the one word. + +"Chance?" he repeated. "Orlando, I believe in God." + +"Then seek your comfort there. I find it in harnessing the winds; in +forcing the powers of nature to do my bidding." + +The other did not speak, and the silence grew heavy. It was broken, when +it was broken, by a cry from Oswald: + +"No more," said he, "no more." Then, in a yearning accent, "Send Doris +to me." + +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. + +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. + +Alone! + +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! + +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. + +He could wait for that hour. He had measured the gulf before him and +found it passable. Henceforth no looking back. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + + +XXXIV. THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Edith's father! Doris, it cannot be. Edith's father!" + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner has been in Derby for the last two weeks. He has +only one interest now; to see you well again." + +"Why?" + +Doris caught the note of pain, if not suspicion, in this query, and +smiled as she asked in turn: + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"Doris says that you have shown me this kindness from the desire you +have to see me well again Mr. Challoner. Is this true?" + +"Very true. I cannot emphasise the fact too strongly." + +Oswald's eyes met his again, this time with great earnestness. + +"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?" + +It was for Mr. Challoner's voice to tremble now, as reaching out his +hand, he declared, with unmistakable feeling: + +"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." + +Startled and deeply moved, the young man stretched out a shaking hand +towards his visitor, with the feeble but exulting cry: + +"Then you do not blame me for her wretched and mysterious death. You +hold me guiltless of the misery which nerved her despairing arm?" + +"Quite guiltless." + +Oswald's wan and pinched features took on a beautiful expression and Mr. +Challoner no longer wondered at his daughter's choice. + +"Thank God!" fell from the sick man's lips, and then there was a silence +during which their two hands met. + +It was some minutes before either spoke and then it was Oswald who said: + +"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. + +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. + +The cause became apparent as soon as he spoke. + +"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." + +"He does not know all our reasons for distrust. He has heard nothing +about the poor washerwoman." + +"No, and he must not,--not for weeks. He has borne all that he can." + +"His confidence in his older brother is sublime. I do not share it; but +I cannot help but respect him for it." + +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. + +"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." + +Doris' large eyes burned with a weird light upon his face. + +"He has not had my dream," she murmured, with all the quiet of an +unmoved conviction. + +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. + +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: + +"Oswald, what is your idea about what I'm making up there?" + +"That it will be a success." + +"I know; but its character, its use? What do you think it is?" + +"I've an idea; but my idea don't fit the conditions." + +"How's that?" + +"The shed is too closely hemmed in. You haven't room--" + +"For what?" + +"To start an aeroplane." + +"Yet it is certainly a device for flying." + +"I supposed so; but--" + +"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." + +"Orlando!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Have you such pride as that?" + +"Precisely." + +"So much that you cannot face failure?" + +"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." + +"You want me to ascend with you?" + +"Exactly." + +"At the end of three days?" + +"Yes." + +"Orlando, I cannot." + +"You cannot? Not strong enough yet? I'll wait then,--three days more." + +"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." + +Orlando, balked thus at the outset, showed his displeasure. + +"You do not do justice to your will. It is strong enough to carry you +through anything." + +"It was." + +"You can force it to act for you." + +"I fear not, Orlando." + +"I counted on you and you thwart me at the most critical moment of my +life." + +Oswald smiled; his whole candid and generous nature bursting into view, +in one quick flash. + +"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." + +"Do you know such a man?" + +"I don't; but there must be many such among our workmen." + +"There isn't one; and I haven't time to send to Brooklyn. I reckoned on +you." + +"Can you wait a month?" + +"No." + +"A fortnight, then?" + +"No, not ten days." + +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. + +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--" + +He did not need to continue. Oswald understood and flashed a grateful +look his way before saying: + +"You will make the attempt at night?" + +"Certainly." + +"And on Saturday?" + +"I've said it." + +"I will run over in my mind the qualifications of such men as I know and +acquaint you with the result to-morrow." + +"There are adjustments to be made. A man of accuracy is necessary." + +"I will remember." + +"And he must be likable. I can do nothing with a man with whom I'm not +perfectly in accord." + +"I understand that." + +"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." + +And with a proud smile in which flashed a significance which startled +Oswald, he gave a hurried nod and turned away. + +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. + + + + +XXXV. SILENCE--AND A KNOCK + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Who's there?" he asked, imperiously and with some show of anger. + +No answer, but another quiet knock. + +"Speak! or go from my door. No one has the right to intrude here. What +is your name and business?" + +Continued knocking--nothing more. + +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. + +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. + +Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient sigh, +returned to the door. + +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. + +"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. + +A final knock. + +Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned the key +with his right. + +The door remained unopened. + +Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a moment, +then he spoke up quietly, almost courteously: + +"Enter." + +But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only the +slightest tap was heard. + +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. + +The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater. + + + + +XXXVI. THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + + +An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; then, +Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the pistol lightly +remarked: + +"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." + +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: + +"How long have you been in town?" + +The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had. + +"Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great +misfortune." + +"Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that business as +unprofitable." + +"I don't know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for a rise +sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits." + +The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow back +into the heart of the midnight woods. + +But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead. "I have buried the +business. You will never resuscitate it through me." + +Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there was +lightness in his tone as said: + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Explain the device." + +"I will draw it." + +"You can?" + +"As I see it." + +"As you see it!" + +"Yes. It's a brilliant idea; I could never have conceived it." + +"You believe--" + +"I know." + +"Sit here. Let's see what you know." + +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. + +"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?" + +Brotherson looked and hastily drew back. He did not want the other to +note his surprise. + +"But that is a portion you never saw," he loudly declared. + +"No, but I saw this," returned Sweetwater, working busily on some +curves; "and these gave me the fillip I mentioned. The rest came +easily." + +Brotherson, in dread of his own anger, threw his pistol to the other end +of the shed: + +"You knave! You thief!" he furiously cried. + +"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." + +"For how many people have you drawn those lines?" thundered the +inexorable voice. + +"For nobody; not for myself even. This is the first time they have left +their hiding-place in my brain." + +"Can you swear to that?" + +"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. + +"And what surety have I that you do not consider this very matter of +mine as coming within the bounds you speak of?" + +"None. But you must trust me that far." + +Brotherson surveyed him with an irony which conveyed a very different +message to the detective than any he had intended. Then quickly: + +"To how many have you spoken, dilating upon this device, and publishing +abroad my secret?" + +"I have spoken to no one, not even to Mr. Gryce. That shows my honesty +as nothing else can." + +"You have kept my secret intact?" + +"Entirely so, sir." + +"So that no one, here or elsewhere, shares our knowledge of the new +points in this mechanism?" + +"I say so, sir." + +"Then if I should kill you," came in ferocious accents, "now--here--" + +"You would be the only one to own that knowledge. But you won't kill +me." + +"Why?" + +"Need I go into reasons?" + +"Why? I say." + +"Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the burden +of another unprovoked crime." + +Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man who +dared to face him with such an accusation. + +"God! why didn't I shoot you on entrance!" he cried. "Your courage is +certainly colossal." + +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: + +"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?" + +"I sincerely do." + +"You consider yourself competent?" + +"I do." + +Brotherson's eyes fell and he walked once to the extremity of the oval +flooring and back. + +"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?" + +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: + +"No! I'll not--" and paused, caught by a new and irresistible sensation. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Coming from the shadows, he laid his hand on the cord regulating the +rise and fall of the concealing curtain. + +"Here she is!" he cried and drew the cord. + +The canvas shook, gathered itself into great folds and disappeared in +the shadows from which he had just stepped. + +The air-car stood revealed--a startling, because wholly unique, vision. + +Long did Sweetwater survey it, then turning with beaming face upon the +watchful inventor, he uttered a loud Hurrah. + +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. + + + + +XXXVII. HIS GREAT HOUR + +Saturday night at eight o'clock. + +So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account of +weather. + +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. + +If the tempest should come up before eight! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Mr. Challoner spoke. + +"Who is the man whom Mr. Brotherson has asked to go up with him?" + +It was Oswald who answered. + +"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." + +"Such reticence seems unpardonable. You have--displayed great patience, +Oswald." + +"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." + +"You have confidence then in the success of this undertaking?" + +"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." + +"I don't understand." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +But Oswald did not seem satisfied. He continued to look at her in vague +concern. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Will he dare? Will he dare?" whispered Doris, and Oswald answered, +though it seemed next to impossible that he could have heard her: + +"He will dare. But will he survive it? Mr. Challoner," he suddenly +shouted in that gentleman's ear, "what time is it now?" + +Mr. Challoner, disengaging himself from their mutual grasp, knelt down +by the lantern to consult his watch. + +"One minute to eight," he shouted back. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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? + +And the wind! Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before it and +fling it back to earth, a broken and despised toy. + +"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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Let me in!" he cried. "You've done the trick, Orlando, you've done the +trick." + +"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. + +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. + +As Oswald bounded towards him, he reached out his hand, but his glance +was for Doris. + +"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--" + +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-- + +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. + + + + +XXXVIII. NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A man stood directly in his way, as he made for the front door. It was +Mr. Challoner. + +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: + +"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." + +The older gentleman hesitated, seeking possibly for composure, and when +he answered it was not only without irony but with a certain forced +respect: + +"Mr. Sweetwater has just left for New York, Mr. Brotherson. He will +carry with him, no doubt, the full particulars of your great success." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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--" + +"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--" + +Orlando frowned. + +"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.'" + +But the hand he reached for did not rise at his command, though Oswald +started erect and faced him with manly earnestness. + +"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." + +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: + +"Did you love Edith Challoner so much as that?" + +A glance from Oswald's eye, sadder than any tear. + +"So that you cannot be reconciled?" + +A gesture. Oswald's words were always few. + +Orlando's frown deepened. + +"Such grief I partly understand," said he. "But time will cure it. Some +day another lovely face--" + +"We'll not talk of that, Orlando." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Then you do blame me?" Orlando turned and was looking full at Oswald. + +"I blame your unreasonableness and your overweening pride." + +Orlando stood a moment, then moved towards the door. The heaviness of +his step smote upon Oswald's ear and caused him to exclaim: + +"Forgive me, Orlando." But the other cut him short with an imperative: + +"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. + +No heartfelt understanding was possible between these two men. + +Crossing the hall, Orlando knocked at the door of Doris' little +sitting-room. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +"Impossible," she murmured. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable small +things without a name, skurried from lair to lair. + +He heard them not. + +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. + +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. + +He had crossed the Rubicon of this world's hopes and fears, but he had +been unconscious of the passage. + + + + +XXXIX. THE AVENGER + + + "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." + +Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and +heartrending duties since the blow which had desolated his home fell +upon him. + +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. + +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: + +"Are we alone, Mr. Challoner, or is that man Sweetwater lurking +somewhere within hearing?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +Mr. Brotherson took a step forward. His manner was as cold as the heart +which lay like a stone in his bosom. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Brotherson went coldly on: + +"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." + +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: + +"There was another--a poor woman--she died suddenly--and her wound was +not unlike that inflicted upon Edith. Did you--" + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +Orlando could scarcely raise his hand before the other's was upon his +throat. + +"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!" + + + + +XL. DESOLATE + + +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. + +"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." + +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-- + +Impetuously Oswald struggled with his weakness, raised himself in Mr. +Challoner's arms and cried in loud revolt: + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"I cannot," said he--"not even the left one. May God forgive me!" + +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. + +"Where are you going?" he demanded in tones which made Orlando turn. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + + + +XLI. FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING + + +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?" + +Four o'clock! The light was still burning, the pile of letters he was +writing increasing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +XLII. AT SIX + + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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: + +"I do not know why you have come back, but never was man more welcome. +Mr. Brotherson has confessed." + +"Confessed!" + +"Yes, he killed both women; my daughter and his neighbour, the +washerwoman, with a--" + +"Wait," broke in Sweetwater, eagerly, "let me tell you." And stooping, +he whispered something in the other's ear. + +Mr. Challoner stared at him amazed, then slowly nodded his head. + +"How came you to think--" he began; but Sweetwater in his great anxiety +interrupted him with a quick: + +"Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? Where +is he? That's the important thing now." + +"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?" + +"In his hangar in the woods. Where else would he go to--" + +"I have thought of that. Shall we start out alone or take witnesses with +us?" + +"We will go alone. Does Oswald anticipate--" + +"He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in there. +Doris and her father are with him." + +"We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it will hold +off for another hour." + +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. + +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. + +A murmur of dismay greeted him. The oval of that great lid stood up +against the forest background. + +"He has escaped," cried Mr. Challoner. + +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! + +The two men drew back and their glances crossed. + +"Let us return to the highroad," whispered Sweetwater; "we can see +nothing here." + +Mr. Challoner, trembling very much, wheeled slowly about. + +"Wait," enjoined Sweetwater. "First let me take a look inside." + +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. + +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." + +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: + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Take them away! I saw him; he was falling like a shot." + +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. + + + + + +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.txt or 1857.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 + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/1857.zip b/1857.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..801b1e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/1857.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f113eaf --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1857 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1857) diff --git a/old/ionly10.txt b/old/ionly10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5742a7d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ionly10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10738 @@ +*Project Gutenberg Etext Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green* +#3 in our series by Anna Katharine Green + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Initials Only + +by Anna Katharine Green + +August, 1999 [Etext #1857] + + +*Project Gutenberg Etext Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green* +******This file should be named ionly10.txt or ionly10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, ionly11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ionly10a.txt + +This Project Gutenberg Etext produced by an anonymous volunteer. + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text +files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly +from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an +assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few +more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we +don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person. + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +We would prefer to send you this information by email. + +****** + +To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser +to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by +author and by title, and includes information about how +to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also +download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This +is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com, +for a more complete list of our various sites. + +To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any +Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror +sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed +at http://promo.net/pg). + +Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better. + +Example FTP session: + +ftp sunsite.unc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + +*** + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** + +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + +This Project Gutenberg Etext produced by an anonymous volunteer. + + + + + +Initials Only + +by Anna Katharine Green + + + + +CONTENTS + +BOOK I + +AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + +I POINSETTIAS +II "I KNOW THE MAN" +III THE MAN +IV SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE +V THE RED CLOAK +VI INTEGRITY +VII THE LETTERS +VIII STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE +IX THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + + +BOOK II + +AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + +X A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION +XI ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS +XII Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE +XIII TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN'S HEART +XIV A CONCESSION +XV THAT'S THE QUESTION +XVI OPPOSED +XVII IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS LEADING PART +XVIII WHAT AM I TO DO NOW? +XIX THE DANGER MOMENT +XX CONFUSION +XXI A CHANGE +XXII O. B. AGAIN + + +BOOK III + +THE HEART OF MAN + +XXIII DORIS +XXIV SUSPENSE +XXV THE OVAL HUT +XXVI SWEETWATER RETURNS +XXVII THE IMAGE OF DREAD +XXVIII I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN +XXIX DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER? +XXX CHAOS +XXXI WHAT IS HE MAKING? +XXXII TELL ME, TELL IT ALL +XXXIII ALONE! +XXXIV THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME +XXXV SILENCE - AND A KNOCK +XXXVI THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT +XXXVII HIS GREAT HOUR +XXXVIII NIGHT +XXXIX THE AVENGER +XL DESOLATE +XLI FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING +XLII AT SIX + + + + + +BOOK I + +AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + + + +I + + +"A remarkable man!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +I pointed to a man hurrying around the corner just ahead of us. + +"Yes, he's remarkably well built. I noticed him when he came out +of the Clermont." This was a hotel we had just passed. + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Pilate!" escaped my lips, in a sort of nervous chuckle. But +George shook his head at me. + +"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 -" + +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. + +"What's the matter?" I cried. "What can have happened? Let's go +see, George. Perhaps it has something to do with our man. + +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. + +"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." + +"He came out of the Clermont," I suggested. + +"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." + +"I'll be quiet." + +"Remember." + +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: + +"Is it murder?" + +"The beautiful Miss Challoner!" + +"A millionairess in her own right!" + +"Killed, they say." + +"No, no! suddenly dead; that's all." + +"George, what shall we do?" I managed to cry into my husband's ear. + +"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." + +"But - but is it right?" I urged, in an importunate whisper. +"Should we go home while he -" + +"Hush! My first duty is to you. We will go make our visit; but +to-morrow -" + +"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. + +He drew me as near to the edge of the crowd as he could. There +were new murmurs all about us. + +"If it's a case of heart-failure, why send for the police?" asked +one. + +"It is better to have an officer or two here," grumbled another. + +"Here comes a cop." + +"Well, I'm going to vamoose." + +"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." + +Slater was the assistant manager of the Clermont, and one of +George's oldest friends. + +"Then hurry," said I. "I am being crushed here." + +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. + +"Let us in, Slater," he begged." My wife feels a little faint; she +has been knocked about so by the crowd." + +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. + +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 -" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 - + +"Was she alone when she fell?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Are you feeling quite well, now?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes, and had been writing a letter. She fell with it still in her +hand." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was fixed with a purpose I had no trouble in understanding. + + + +II + +"I KNOW THE MAN + + +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. + +"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." + +"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 -" + +"Hush! Let us listen rather than talk. What are they saying over +there? Can you hear?" + +"No. And I cannot bear to look. Yet I don't want to go away. It's +all so dreadful." + +"It's devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you +for a moment. Do you mind?" + +"No, no; yet -" + +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. + +He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of +increased agitation. + +"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.'' + +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. + + +"Are you going to tell him?" was my question to George as we made +our way down to the lobby. + +"That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite +remote from this business." + +"I shall not like that." + +"I know, my dear, but it is best." + +I could not gainsay this. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me - tell," I begged. + +He tried to smile at my eagerness, but the attempt was ghastly. + +"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." + +"I will tell what I saw," said I. + +"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." + +"We can never make them understand how he looked." + +"No. I don't expect to." + +"Or his manner as he fled." + +"Nor that either." + +"We can only describe what we saw him do." + +That's all." + +"Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don't +believe he shot her." + +"He must have." + +"But they would have seen - have heard - the people around, I mean." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +George bowed, and the chief spokesman - I am sure he was a +police-officer of some kind - asked him to tell what it was. + +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: + +"It's the peculiarity of the occurrence which affects my husband. +The thing we saw may mean nothing." + +"Let us hear what it was and we will judge." + +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. + +"Washed his hands - a gentleman - out there in the snow - just +after the alarm was raised here?" repeated one. + +"And you saw him come out of this house?" another put in. + +"Yes, sir; we noticed him particularly. + +"Can you describe him?" + +It was Mr. Slater who put this question; he had less control over +himself, and considerable eagerness could be heard in his voice. + +"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." + +His clothes. Describe his clothes." There was an odd sound in +Mr. Slater's voice. + +"He wore a silk hat and there was fur on his overcoat. I think +the fur was black." + +Mr. Slater stepped back, then moved forward again with a determined +air. + +"I know the man," said he. + + + +III + +THE MAN + + +"You know the man?" + +"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." + +"His name." + +"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." + +"A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together." + +"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." + +"Call up Clausen." + +The manager stepped to the telephone. + +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 - + +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. + +I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I +raised my hand and pointed down at the street. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Slater at once put his question: + +"Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night? + +"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 -" + +"Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly +just before." + +"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." + +"But you are sure of that back?" + +"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 caf up to that minute, +and that's where Mr. Brotherson usually goes first." + +"Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him." + +The old man bowed and went out. + +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. + +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. + +He was an habitue of the hotel, to the extent of dining once or +twice a week in the caf, 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + _____________________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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The writing was in Mr. Slater's hand, and the words were: + + "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." + + + +V + +SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + + +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. + +Instantly they absorbed all my attention, though I dared not give +them a direct look, and continued to observe them only in the glass. + +"Is it one family?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Their word ought to be good." + +George nodded. + +"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?" + +"They did last night. I don't know how they will meet this +statement of the doctor's." + +"George?" + +He leaned nearer. + +"Have you ever thought that she might have been a suicide? That +she stabbed herself? + +"No, for in that case a weapon would have been found." + +"And are you sure that none was?" + +"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." + +"And the detectives are still here? + +"I just saw one." + +"George?" + +Again his head came nearer. + +"Have they searched the lobby? I believe she had a weapon." + +"Laura! + +"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 -" + +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. + +"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. + +"A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously +homely but agreeable enough. I took quite a fancy to him. Why?" + +"I am looking at him now." + +"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." + +"He is watching those people. No, he isn't. How quickly he +disappeared!" + +"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." + +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. + +"What does he want?" I asked, as soon as George had returned to +my side. + +"He wants me to stand ready to obey any summons the police may +send me." + +"Then they still suspect Brotherson?" + +They must." + +My head rose a trifle as I glanced up at George. + +"Then we are not altogether out of it?" I emphasised, complacently. + +He smiled which hardly seemed a propos. Why does George sometimes +smile when I am in my most serious moods. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I doubt if you would have been given the opportunity. I noticed +that we were slightly de trop towards the last." + +"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." + +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. + +"No," he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. "Been pushed about +all day. No time for anything." + +"Then let me tell you -" + +But he would have dinner first. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"What are the points? What's the difficulty?" he asked. "A +woman has been shot -" + +"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." + +"Dr. Heath is a reliable man and one of our ablest coroners." + +"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?" + +"Yes; so much was told me on my way down." + +"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." + +"Suicide by stabbing calls for a weapon. Yet none has been found, +I hear." + +"None." + +"Yet she was killed that way? + +"Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than a +needle but not so large as the ordinary stiletto." + +"Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She +had no companion near her?" + +"None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who +were seated at the other end of the room. + +"And you do believe them?" + +"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." + +"It wouldn't seem so." + +"Yet they swear up and down that nobody crossed the room towards +Miss Challoner." + +"So they tell me." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Will you take my arm, sir?" + +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. + +"Have you had a chance at this thing?" he asked. "Been over the +ground - studied the affair carefully?" + +"Yes, sir; they were good enough to allow it." + +"Very well, then, you're in a position to pioneer me. You've seen +it all and won't be in a hurry." + +"No; I'm at the end of my rope. I haven't an idea, sir." + +"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." + +Nevertheless, he looked ten years younger than when he came in, or +so thought those who knew him. + +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. + +"Who were the first to rush in here after the Parrishes gave the +alarm?" + +"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." + +Good! their names?" + +"Mark Sowerby and Claus Hennerberg. Honest Germans - men who have +played here for years." + +"And who followed them? Who came next on the scene? + +"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." + +"Who did touch her? Anybody, before the father came in?" + +"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." + +"I suppose she has been carefully questioned?" + +"Very, I should say." + +"And she speaks of no weapon?" + +"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." + +"Father and all?" + +"Yes." + +"But the blood? Surely there must have been some show of blood?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at +the time, says that ten minutes at least must have elapsed." + +"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?" + +"Yes, great big scarlet ones. Nobody noticed - nobody looked. A +panic like that seems to paralyse people." + +"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." + +"You will like her. You will believe every word she says." + +"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." + +"The stones have all been turned over once." + +"By you? + +"Not altogether by me." + +"Then they will bear being turned over again. I want to be witness +of the operation." + +"Where will you see Miss Clarke? + +"Wherever she pleases - only I can't walk far." + +"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." + +"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." + +Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be +fully enlightened when the time came. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Did you manage it?" + +"I succeeded in getting her head into my lap, nothing more." + +"And sat so?" + +"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." + +"You knew she was dead, then?" + +"I felt her to be so." + +"How felt?" + +"I was sure - I never questioned it." + +"You have seen women in a faint?" + +"Yes, many times." + +"What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner +dead simply because she lay still and apparently lifeless? + +"I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only +know how I felt." + +"Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or +unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her heart?" + +Miss Clarke started, and her sweet face showed a moment's perplexity. + +"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." + +"No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me +positively whether you did this or not?" + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"The only one," echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight +rising sound of query in his voice. + +"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. + +"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." + +It was this statement, otherwise worded, which gave me my triumph +over George. + + + +V + +THE RED CLOAK + + +"What results? Speak up, Sweetwater." + +"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." + +There now remain the guests." + +"And after them - (pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which +rushed in rather promiscuously last night." + +"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." + +A bulletin was put up. + +Some hours later, Sweetwater re-entered the room, and, approaching +Mr. Gryce with a smile, blurted out: + +"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." + +"Embarrassment? Humph! a man?" + +"No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients. I found out in +a jiffy all they could tell me about her." + +"A woman! We didn't expect that. Where is she? Still in the +lobby?" + +"No, sir. She took the elevator while I was talking with the clerk." + +"There's nothing in it. You mistook her expression." + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce nodded thoughtfully, but made no immediate effort to rise. + +"Is that all you know about her?" he asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Sweetwater did as he was bid, then went back to his place in the +lobby. + +But he returned almost instantly. + +"Mrs. Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to - to +leave, sir." + +"To leave?" + +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. + +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: + + "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." + + +"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." + +"Here goes then! " cried Sweetwater, and quickly left the room. + +When he returned, it was not with his most hopeful air. + +"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." + +"She did! Sweetwater, I will see her. Manage it for me at once." + +"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." + +"Very well." But the look which the old detective threw at his +bandaged legs was not without its pathos. + +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: + +"Am I speaking to Mrs. Watkins of Nashville?" + +"You are," she faltered, with another rapid change of colour. "I + - I am just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I -" + +"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?" + +"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 -" + +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: - + +"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 -" + +"Yes." She raised her head. "So were a dozen others -" + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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: + +"All ready, mother. I'm glad we are going to the Clarendon. I +hate hotels where people die almost before your eyes." + +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. + +"Who is this?" demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing +from one to the other. + +"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 -" + +"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. + +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: + +"The person who stooped wore a long red cloak. Probably you +preceded your daughter, Mrs. Watkins." + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Caroline" - Then the mother broke down. "Show the gentleman what +you picked up from the lobby floor last night." + +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. + +"It was lying there and I picked it up. I don't see any harm in +that." + +"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. + +"You have washed this?" he asked. + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Does that frighten you? Are you so affected by the thought of +blood?" + +"Don't ask me. And I put the thing under my pillow! I thought +it was so - so pretty." + +"Mrs. Watkins," Mr. Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter, +"did you see it there?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"None whatever, Madam." + +"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." + +"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." + +Her shudder, as she seated herself, was very convincing. She was +too young to simulate so successfully emotions of this character. + +"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." + +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. + +"They are the same she is wearing now," the anxious mother assured +him. "Wait, and I will get them for you." + +"No need. Let her hold out her hands in token of amity. I shall +soon see." + +They returned to where the girl still sat, wrapped in her cloak, +sobbing still, but not so violently. + +"Caroline, you may take off your things," said the mother, drawing +the pins from her own hat. "We shall not go to-day." + +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. + +"Will - will he tell?" she whispered behind its ample folds into her +mother's ear. + +The answer came quickly, but not in the mother's tones. Mr. Gryce's +ears had lost none of their ancient acuteness. + +"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?" + +"No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn't have to step out +of my way; I really didn't." + +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. + +He could soon tell. + + + +VI + +INTEGRITY + + +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: + +"I have but one idea left on the subject." + +"And what is that?" Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment. + +"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." + +"Sweetwater!" + +A faint blush rose to the old man's cheek. + +"Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over? + +"Yes." + +The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it +was with a downcast air. + +"Nothing doing," said he. + +And then there was silence. + +"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. + +"That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it +to her maid?" + +"If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem +inclined to speak. + +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. + +Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then +laid it down again, with an air of seeming abstraction. + +The father's attention was caught. + +"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 -" + +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: + +"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to +think it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise? + +"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. "0 +God! am I to be crushed to the very earth by sorrow!" + +Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with +the truth. + +"It was picked up - last night - from the lobby floor. There is +seemingly nothing to connect it with her death. Yet -" + +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: + +"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 -" + +"What about the one?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +"They are the letters of a gentleman." + +"With the one exception." + +"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: + +"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." + +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? + +"It was a cheerful letter. Such a one as she often wrote to her +little protogees 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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + + + +VII + +THE LETTERS + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Gryce, this is a dark case," he observed, as at his bidding +the two detectives took their seats. + +Mr. Gryce nodded; so did Sweetwater. + +"The darkest that has ever come to my knowledge," pursued the +coroner. + +Mr. Gryce again nodded; but not so, Sweetwater. For some reason +this simple expression of opinion seemed to have given him a mental +start. + +"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." + +"I'm sorry that I've been able to do so little," remarked Mr. Gryce. + +The coroner darted him a quick look. + +"You are not satisfied? You have some different idea?" he asked. + +The detective frowned at his hands crossed over the top of his cane, +then shaking his head, replied: + +"The verdict you mention is the only natural one, of course. I +see that you have been talking with Miss Challoner's former maid?" + +"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." + +And Dr. Heath read: + + "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." + +A threat! + +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. + +"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." + +"Brotherson! " exclaimed the young detective in loud surprise. +"Brotherson! The man who -" + +"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. + +"Brotherson!" The word came softly now, and with a thoughtful +intonation. "He saw her die." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"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." + +"Have you settled it beyond dispute that Brotherson is really the +man who was seen doing this?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Not Miss Challoner's maid?" + +"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." + +"I'll find the man; I have a double reason for doing that now; he +shall not escape me." + +Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction, and gave some orders. +Meanwhile, Mr. Gryce had not uttered a word. + + + +VIII + +STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + + +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. + +"Wake up, little woman," I heard, "and trot away to bed. I'm going +out and may not be in till daybreak." + +"You! going out! at ten o'clock at night, tired as you are - as we +both are! What has happened-Oh!" + +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. + +"Mr. Sweetwater," explained George. "We are going out together. It +is necessary, or you may be sure I should not leave you. + +I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. "Oh, I know. +You are going to hunt up the man. How I wish -" + +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. + +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. + +As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towards +George and said: + +"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? + +"I think so. There's his height and a certain strong look in his +face. I cannot describe it." + +"You don't need to. Come! we're all right. You don't mind making +a night of it?" + +"Not if it is necessary. + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +"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. + +When they stopped, which was in a few minutes, he said to George: + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +"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?" + +"Is this a secret one?" + +"It wasn't advertised." + +"Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?" + +"I am a carpenter. Don't you think you can be a mason for the +occasion?" + +"I doubt it, but -" + +"Hush! I must speak to this man." + +George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and +a shadowy figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk. + +"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. + +"He didn't go in by it; yet I believe he's safe enough inside," was +the muttered answer. + +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. + +"Are we going back? Are you going to give up the job?" George asked. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"But we! What are we going to do if we cannot get in front or rear? + +"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." + +"Perhaps it swings on hinges," suggested George. "It looks like +that sort of a window." + +"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?" + +George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an +amused grunt, softly unlatched the window and pulled it wide open. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of +impatience and regret, pushed the window to before asking George +this question: + +"Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, your +attention outside the Clermont?" + +"No." + +"Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over +the speaker's head?" + +"Yes, but I could judge nothing from that." + +"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." + +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: + +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: + +"Who's that? What do you want down there?" + +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: + +"It's the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man +we're after - the one who shouted down?" + +"No. Neither was he the speaker. The voices are very different." + +"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." + +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. + +"Well?" inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. "Do you want me? +They don't seem to be coming out." + +"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?" + + + +IX + +THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + +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. + +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. + +"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? + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +"Yes; but-" + +"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." + +George felt non-plussed. + +"But surely," said he, "the gentleman named Brotherson doesn't live +here." + +"The inventor does." + +"Oh!" + +"And - but I will explain later." + +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: + +Don't look up till he is fairly in range with the light. + +There's nothing to fear; he doesn't know either of us. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +George shook his head. He could not rid himself of the old +impression he had formed of the man in the snow. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +He was returning to them from the door he had unlocked and left +slightly ajar. + +"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." + +"I have nothing to do with the club -" + +"But you spoke before it." + +Yes." + +"Then you can give us some sort of an idea how we are to apply for +membership." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You seem to have forgotten your errand," came in quiet, if not +good-natured, sarcasm from their patiently waiting host. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He +might witness and hear, but it was long before he understood. + +"Brotherson?" repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to +the breaking-point. "Why do you call me that?" + +"Because it is your name." + +"You called me Dunn a minute ago." + +"That is true." + +"Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?" + +"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." + +"And you? By what name are you known?" + +"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?" + +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: + +"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?" + +He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, +lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +But you will not lack a suitable guide. + + + + + + +BOOK II + + +AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + + + +X + +A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + + +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. + +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. + +The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, +surveyed him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow +expected. + +"You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort +those papers over there, you may." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Mr. Brotherson, I believe," said he, as he motioned his visitor to +sit. + +"That is my name, sir." + +"Orlando Brotherson?" + +"The same, sir." + +"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." + +"Miss Challoner?" + +"Certainly; Miss Challoner." + +"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." + +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: + +"Do you recognise the signature?" + +"Yes, it is mine." + +"Then you acknowledge yourself the author of these lines?" + +"Most certainly. Have I not said that this is my signature?" + +"Do you remember the words of this note, Mr. Brotherson?" + +"Hardly. I recollect its tenor, but not the exact words." + +"Read them." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"You ask that?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Ah! and so you thought a threat was due her?" + +"A threat?" + +"These words contain a threat, do they not?" + +"They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may have +expressed myself in an unfortunate manner." + +"Read the words, Mr. Brotherson. I really must insist that you do +so." + +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: + +"I remember it perfectly now. It is not a letter to be proud of. +I hope -" + +"Pray finish, Mr. Brotherson." + +"That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this +letter and her violent death?" + +"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." + +"Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate +my influence with the lady you name." + +"You believe, then, that she was sincere in her rejection of your +addresses? + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Your wish can very easily be gratified," returned the official, +pressing an electric button on his desk; + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"This good-bye - do you remember it? The exact language, I mean? " + +"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." + +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. + +"This was when?" put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which +must have been very painful to the listening father. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +"Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this +one outburst whatever humiliation I felt." + +"And she? Did she give no sign, make you no answer?" + +"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." + +This time his bitterness did not pass unrebuked by the coroner: + + " Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, +and respect his grief." + +Mr. Brotherson bowed. + +"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. + +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: + +"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." + +"On the spot?" + +"In the hotel, I mean." + +"There you are right; I was in the hotel." + +"At the time of her death?" + +"Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the +lobby behind me, just as I was passing out at the Broadway entrance." + +"You did, and did not return?" + +"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." + +This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so +frank that the coroner hesitated a moment before he said: + +"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." + +"I had no interview with Miss Challoner." + +"But you saw her? Saw her that evening and just before the accident?" + +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?" + +"Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yet +directly and with no possibility of mistake." + +"Do you put that as a question?" + +"I do. Did you see her figure or face that night?" + +"I did." + +Nothing - not even the rattling of Sweetwater's papers - disturbed +the silence which followed this admission. + +"From where?" Dr. Heath asked at last. + +"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." + +"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." + +It was - such - a spot.'' + +"Then I think I can locate it for you, or do you prefer to locate +it yourself?" + +"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." + +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. + +"You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and +what was in it? Anything?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly +conscious of perhaps himself, he asked in an off-hand way: + +"Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair +the moment you had left the hotel?" + +"I do not understand." + +"You passed around the corner into - street, did you not?" + +"Very likely. I could go that way as well as another." + +"And stopped at the first lamp-post?" + +"Oh, I see. Someone saw that childish action of mine." + +"What did you mean by it?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +But the feeling did not last. + +"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." + + + +XI + +ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + + +"Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You +must decide which." + +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. + +"Sweetwater, is that you?" + +"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." + +A grunt from the region of the library table, then the sarcastic +remark: + +"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?" + +"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? + +"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." + +"Nor any evidence that it had ever been there." + +"No. I'm not proud of the chain which lacks a link where it should +be strongest." + +"We shall never supply that link." + +"I quite agree with you." + +"That chain we must throw away." + +"And forge another?" + +Sweetwater approached and sat down. + +"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 - " + +"What, Sweetwater?" + +"A well-founded distrust. Mr. Gryce, I'm going to ask you a +question." + +"Ask away. Ask fifty if you want to." + +"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? + +"No, it stands alone. That's why it is so puzzling." + +"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 -" + +"Wait! the washerwoman in Hicks Street! Sweetwater, what have you +got up your sleeve? You do mean that Brooklyn washerwoman, don't +you?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +And he read: + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'His reply threw them all into confusion. The tenant of that room +was the best, the quietest and most respectable man in either +building. + +"'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.' + +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. + +"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? + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + + + +XII + +Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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 +caf of the Hotel Clermont. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And here's mine." + +Next minute the two heads were closer than ever together, and the +business had begun. + + + +XIII + +TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN' S HEART + + +"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." + +"Humph! we will set that down, then, as so much against us." + +"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." + +"True. The problem is such as a nightmare offers. For years my +dreams have been haunted by a gnome who proposes just such puzzles." + +"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." + +"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 0, and when her +friend twitted her with her fondness for these two letters, and +suggested a pleasing monogram, Miss Challoner answered, '0. B. +(transferring the letters, as you see) are the initials of the +finest man in the world.'" + +"Gosh! has he heard this story?" + +"Who?" + +"The gentleman in question." + +"Mr. Brotherson?" + +Yes." + +"I don't think so. It was told me in confidence." + +"Told you, Mr. Gryce? Pardon my curiosity." + +"By Mr. Challoner." + +"Oh! by Mr. Challoner." + +"He is greatly distressed at having the disgraceful suggestion of +suicide attached to his daughter's name. Notwithstanding the +circumstances, - not - withstanding 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." + +"And what - what did you - say?" asked Sweetwater, with a halting +utterance and his face +full of thought. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How can you be sure?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"I must be at Headquarters to-morrow." + +"Good, then let it be to-morrow. A taxicab, Sweetwater. The subway +for the young. I can no longer manage the stairs." + + + +XIV + +A CONCESSION + + +"It is true; there seems to be something extraordinary in the +coincidence." + +Thus Mr. Brotherson, in the presence of the Inspector. + +"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? + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Again that chill smile preceding the quiet answer: + +"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." + +"But why make use of one name as a gentleman of leisure and quite +a different one as the honest workman?" + +"Ah, there you touch upon my real secret. I have a reason for +keeping my identity quiet till my invention is completed." + +"A reason connected with your anarchistic tendencies?" + +"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. + +"We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn. Physical overthrow carries more +than the immediate sufferer with it." + +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. + +Perhaps it was of a nature to surprise even him. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Do you mind telling us where you went in New York?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +He was half-way out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the +Inspector drew him back. + +"Anything mote?" he asked. + +The Inspector smiled. + +"You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. +Brotherson. You must have decided long ago how this woman died." + +"Is that a question, Inspector?" + +"You may take it as such." + +"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." + +The air seemed to have lost its vitality and the sun its sparkle +when he was gone. + +"Now, what do you think, Gryce?" + +The old man rose and came out of his corner. + +"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." + +"I'm inclined to believe him the latter." + +"And so give the whole matter the go-by?" + +"Possibly." + +"It will be a terrible disappointment to Sweetwater." + +"That's nothing." + +"And to me." + +"That's different. I'm disposed to consider you, Gryce - after all +these years." + +"Thank you; I have done the state some service." + +"What do you want? You say the mine is unworkable." + +"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." + +"The outlay? I am thinking of the outlay." + +"Mr. Challoner will see to that. I have his word that no reasonable +amount will daunt him." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + + + +XV + +THAT'S THE QUESTION + + +"How many times has he seen you?" + +"Twice." + +"So that he knows your face and figure?" + +"I'm afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him +in his own room." + +"That's unfortunate." + +"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 be 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." + +"You've done very well as it is." + +"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." + +"Do. It'll make you look as weak as water. It'll be blonde, of +course." + +"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. + +"Sweetwater! We'd better give the task to another man - to someone +Brotherson has never seen and won't be suspicious of?" + +"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." + +"But the doubt. Can you do all this in doubt of the issue?" + +"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." + +"Yes, that's essential." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"My mother's - Zugg." + +"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." + +"Thanks. You're sure the Superintendent is with me?" + +"Yes, but not the Inspector. He sees nothing but the victim of a +strange coincidence in Orlando Brotherson." + +"Again the scales hang even. But they won't remain so. One side +is bound to rise. Which? That's the question, Mr. Gryce." + + + +XVI + +OPPOSED + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Not much sleep, eh? We didn't think you'd like it. Did you see +anything?" + +Now this gave him the one excuse he wanted. + +"See anything?" he repeated, apparently with all imaginable innocence. +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Don't you know what happened in that room?" + +"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. + +At half past six he found the janitor. He was, to all appearance, +in a state of great excitement and he spoke very fast. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +The first page of his adventure in the Hicks Street tenement had +been turned, and he was ready to start upon another. + + + +XVII + +IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + + +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: + +"Halloo! coming to live in this hole?" + +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: + +"Yes, this is to be my castle. Are you the owner of the buildings? +If so -" + +"I am not the owner. I live next door. Haven't I seen you before, +young man?" + +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: + +"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." + +Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. +Brotherson stared at the youth, then ventured another question: + +"A carpenter, eh?" + +"Yes, and I'm an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It's my one +card of introduction." + +"I've seen you. I've seen you somewhere else than in Schuper's shop. +Do you remember me?" + +"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. + +But Brotherson was not to be caught. + +"You slept in the building last night? In the other half, I mean?" + +"Yes, I - slept." + +The strong lip of the other man curled disdainfully. + +"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?" + +"Yes; they told me so this morning." + +"Was that the first you'd heard of it?" + +"Sure!" The word almost jumped at the questioner. "Do you suppose +I'd have taken the room if -" + +But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out, +disgust in every feature, - plain, unmistakable, downright disgust, +and nothing more! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"You're better this evening," he heard in those kindly tones which +so confused and irritated him. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Relieved for the moment, he left his post and, sitting down on the +edge of his cot, gave himself up to thought. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"You find me at work," he remarked. "I don't suppose you understand +any but your own?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"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? + +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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + +XVIII + +WHAT AM I TO DO NOW + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 tip 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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +The young detective's moment had come. + +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. + + +A strain of well-known music broke softly, from the box and sent its +vibrations through the wall. + +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. + +It was Edith! Miss Challoner's first name, and the tone bespoke a +shaken soul. + +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 -" + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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 - + +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. + +"The man is too strong for me," he cried. "His heart is granite; +he meets my every move. What am I to do now?" + + + +XIX + +THE DANGER MOMENT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Sweetwater in the darkness of his closet laughed in his gleeful +appreciation. + +"Great!" was his comment. "Just great! She has thought of +everything - or Mr. Gryce has." + +Meanwhile, the girl was proceeding with increased volubility. + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No one can overhear." + +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." + +"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? + +"I believe you to have taken every advantage posible to spy upon +your mistress. I believe that, yes." + +"From interest, monsieur, from great interest." + +"Self-interest." + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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 -" + +"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." + +"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!" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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: + + "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-" + +The paper dropped from the reader's hand. It was several minutes +before he took up another. + +This one, as it happened, antedated the other, as will appear on +reading it: + + "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." + +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. + +A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding +sheet. The following was read, and then the fourth and last: + + "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?" + + + +XX + +CONFUSION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +The frown had come back to the forehead of the indignant man who +confronted him. + +"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? + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I do not believe you." + +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. + +"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. + +With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a +smile, he nodded and left the room. + + + +XXI + +A CHANGE + + +"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." + +But our young detective did neither. + +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: + +"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." + + + +XXII + +O. B. AGAIN + + +"What's happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so +after this confounded failure." + +"Failure? Didn't he read the letters?" + +"Yes, he read them. Had to, but -" + +"Didn't weaken? Eh?" + +"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 +draw him." + +"Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn't know +that it ran that high." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"N - no." The hesitating admission was only a proof of Sweetwater's +obstinacy. + +"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." + +"Only another? I thought there were a half-dozen, at least." + +"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 0. B. were not all from the same hand. +Experts have been busy with them for a week, and their reports are +unanimous. The 0. B. who wrote the threatening lines acknowledged +to by Orlando Brotherson, was not the 0. 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." + +"Two 0. B.s! Isn't that incredible, Mr. Gryce?" + +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." + +"The second 0. B.?" + +Yes." + +Sweetwater's face instantly lit up. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"The Superintendent - how does he feel about it?" + +"He was the first one to mention you." + +"And the Inspector?" + +"Is glad to see us on a new tack." + +A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective's eye +clouded over. Presently he remarked: + +"How will the finding of another 0. 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 0.B." + +Mr. Gryce's eyes twinkled. + +"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 +0. 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." + +"The prospect grows pleasing. Where am I to look for my man?" + +"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." + +"I see. It's a short journey I have before me." + +"It'll bring the colour to your cheeks." + +"Oh, I'm not kicking." + +"You will start to-morrow." + +"Wish it were to-day." + +"And you will first inquire, not for 0. 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 0. B." + +"Another woman!" + +"No, a child; - well, I won't say child exactly; she must be sixteen." + +"Doris Scott." + +"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 -" + +"I begin to see." + +"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." + +"Was this letter signed O. B.?" + +"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." + +"How not? Torn off, do you mean?" + +"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." + +"If I remember rightly Miss Challoner's letter to this child was +free from all mystery." + +"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." + +Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and +re-read these lines: + + "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." + + +"That to a child of sixteen!" + +"Just so." + +"D-o-r-i-s spells something besides Doris." + +"Yet there is a Doris. Remember that O. B. says in one of his +letters, ' Doris is learning to embroider.' + +"Yes, I remember that." + +"So you must first find Doris." + +"Very good, sir." + +"And as Miss Challoner's letter was directed to Derby, Pennsylvania, +you will go to Derby." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Anything more?" + +"I've been reading this letter again." + +"It's worth it." + +"The last sentence expresses a hope." + +"That has been noted." + +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." + +Mr. Gryce smiled; but there was more age, wisdom and sympathy for +youthful enthusiasm in that smile than there was confidence or hope. + + + +BOOK III + + +THE HEART OF MAN + + + +XXIII + +DORIS + + +"A young girl named Doris Scott?" + +The station-master looked somewhat sharply at the man he was +addressing, and decided to give the direction asked. + +"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 -- + +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 +hat 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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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? + +In some astonishment now, she glanced down at the sheet thus boldly +thrust before her, and recognising the 0 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. + +"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. + +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. + +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 -" + +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." + +"He!" Sweetwater perked up his ears. "Who do you mean by he?" + +"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." + +But a thunderbolt could not have moved Sweetwater after the hearing +of that name. "Mr. Brotherson! he echoed. "Brotherson! Not +Orlando?" + +"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. + +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. + +"The second 0. 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." + +"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. + +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 - + +"Edith! Edith!" + +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. + +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 0. 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: + +"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. + +She wrenched her hand from his, panting with impatience and a vague +alarm. But she answered him distinctly: + +"On the Twenty-fifth of last month, just an hour after he was made +manager. He fell in a faint at the Works." + +The day - the very day of Miss Challoner's death! + +"Had he heard - did you tell him then or afterwards what happened +in New York on that very date?" + +"No, no, we have not told him. It would have killed him - and may +yet." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +Sweetwater allowed himself one minute of thought, then he earnestly +replied: + +"I will keep your secret for to-day, and longer, if possible." + +"Thank you, she cried; "thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your +face." And she again prepared to close the door. + +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?" + +"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." + +"Edith! Edith!" rose in ceaseless reiteration from within. + +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. + +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. + + + +XXIV + +SUSPENSE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +XXV + +THE OVAL HUT + + +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. + +His first word, therefore, was a plain announcement. + +"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? + +"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. + +"That I see; but if I knew when I might speak - " + +"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. + +Sweetwater muttered his thanks and rose. Then he slowly sat down +again. + +"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?" + +The doctor did not need to speak; his expression conveyed his answer. + +"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. + +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. + +"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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was still looking up at these hinges, with 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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: 0. Brotherson, Derby, Pa. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +XXVI + +SWEETWATER RETURNS + + +"You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday's intrusion +has not prejudiced you against me. + +"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. + +"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? + +"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." + +"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." + +"There is but one story to tell," she smiled, and her head drooped +softly, but with no air of self-consciousness. + +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." + +"0 yes, 0 yes." + +"More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your +very looks show that." + +"You are right; I would do anything to help you. But who 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." + +"And a friend of Mr. Brotherson," supplemented Sweetwater. + +"Yes," she smiled, "he would want me to say so. But that's his +goodness. I don't deserve the honour." + +"His friend and therefore his confidante," Sweetwater continued. +"He has talked to you about Miss Challoner?" + +"He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, +I had seen her and could understand." + +"Where did you see her?" + +"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." + +"That was some time ago?" + +"We were there in June." + +"And you have corresponded ever since with Miss Challoner?" + +"She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times +to answer her." + +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: + +"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." + +She was vehement, instantly vehement, in her disclaimer. + +"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. + +Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner's last letter, and wished he +had it here to give her. In default of this, he said: + +"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. + +Her eyes filled. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +"Tell me about it." + +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. + +"A meagre haul," he remarked at the close. + +"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." + +"As prejudiced as a bulldog." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small +comfort can I carry him." + + + +XXVII + +THE IMAGE OF DREAD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Who is that, Johnny? she asked. "You know everybody who comes to +town. What is the name of the gentleman you see coming?" + +The boy looked, searched his memory, not without some show of +misgiving. + +"A queer name, he admitted at last. "I never heard the likes of it +here before. Shally something. Shally - Shally - " + +"Challoner?" + +"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." + +"Well, never mind. Run on, Johnny. And don't forget to come +earlier to-morrow; Mr. Brotherson gets tired waiting." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Doris, come here, sweet child. I want you." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Surprised now by something not quite natural in her manner, he caught +at her hand and held her as she was moving away. + +"You are tired," said he. "I've wearied you with my commission and +complaints. Forgive me, dear child, and -" + +"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?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +"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." + +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 - + +Unconsciously the young head drooped, and the pen slid from her hand. + +"I cannot," she murmured, "I cannot think what to say." + +"Shall I help you?" came softly from the bed. "I'll try and not +forget that it is Doris writing." + +"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." + +"Write then. 'Dear Miss Challoner!" + +"I have already written that." + +"Why do you shudder?" + +"I'm cold. I've been cold all day. But never mind that, Mr. +Brotherson. Tell me how to begin my letter." + +" 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?" + +" 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. + +" Well, leave out the fretful if you must, but keep in the exacting. +I have been exacting, you know." + +Silence, broken only by the scratching of the stubborn, +illy-directed pen. + +"It's down," she whispered. She said, afterward, that it was like +writing with a ghost looking over one's shoulder. + +"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?" + +"No, no, I can follow." + +"But not without losing breath; eh, Doris?" + +As he laughed, she smiled. There was a heroism in that smile, +Oswald Brotherson, of which you knew nothing. + +"You might speak a little more slowly," she admitted. + +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!" + +" 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." + +" 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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"You will mail it yourself?" he asked. "I should like to have you +put it into the box with your own hand." + +"I will put it in to-night, after supper," she promised him. + +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. + + + +XXVIII + +I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + + +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. + +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. + +"Miss Scott?" he asked. + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner." + +"You know me?" he went on, one foot on the step and one still on +the walk. + +Before replying she closed the door behind her. Then as she noted +his surprise she carefully explained: + +"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." + +Her flush, the beauty which must have struck ever 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: + +" 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." + +She gave him one quick look, trembling so that he offered her his +arm with a fatherly air. + +"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." + +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. + +" 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. + +"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. + +Doris turned her candid eyes upon him. + +"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." + +"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." + +Doris trembled. + +"It was not suicide," she declared, vehemently. "I have always +felt sure that it was not; but to-day I KNOW." + +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? + +"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?" + +"No, not at all," he assured her." Expect me at eight. Will that +be too early?" + +"No, no. Oh, how those people stared! Let us hasten back or they +may connect your name with what we want kept secret." + +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. + +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. + +"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, +- some - thing you could tell people. But it isn't like that. +It's a feeling - a belief. I'm so sure -" + +"Sure of what, Miss Scott?" + +She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer. He had not +taken the chair she preferred. + +"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. + +"A dream, Miss Scott?" He tried to hide his disappointment. + +"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." + +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 tnonotonous tones: + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention, he waited +till her eyes met his, then quietly asked: + +"Have you ever named this man to yourself?" + +She started and dropped her eyes. + +"I do not dare to," said she. + +"Why?" + +"Because I've read in the papers that the man who stood there had +the same name as -" + +"Tell me, Miss Scott." + +"As Mr. Brotherson's brother." + +"But you do not think it was his brother?" + +"I do not know." + +"You've never seen his brother?" + +"Never." + +"Nor his picture? + +"No, Mr. Brotherson has none." + +"Aren't they friends? Does he never mention Orlando?" + +"Very, very rarely. But I've no reason to think they are not on +good terms. I know they correspond." + +"Miss Scott?" + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner." + +"You must not rely too much upon your dream." + +Her eyes flashed to his and then fell again. + +"Dreams are not revelations; they are the reproduction of what +already lies hidden in the mind. I can prove that your dream is +such." + +"How?" She looked startled. + +"You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you +think of a pistol." + +"Yes, I was looking directly into it." + +"But my daughter was not shot. She died from a stab." + +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. + +"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." + +Well, it was useless to reason further. Gentle in all else, she +was immovable so for as this idea was concerned and, seeing this, +he let the matter go and prepared to take his leave. + +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. + +"Who is it?" she asked. "Father's in and visitors seldom come so +late." + +"Shall I see?" + +She nodded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, +revealing the tall, strong figure of a man facing them from the +porch. + +"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: + +"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!" + + + +XXIX + +DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, +Miss Scott. Will you let me come in now?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Then I'm not to see him to-night?" + +"I pray you to wait. He's - he's been a very sick man." + +"Dangerously so?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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." + +She shook her head. "I know very little about business," said she. + +"My brother has not told you why he expected me?" + +"He has not even told me that he expected you." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"My brother?" he asked. + +"Yes," came in faltering reply. "He has heard our voices; I must +go to him." + +"Say that Orlando wishes him a good night," smiled her heart's +enemy, with a bow of infinite grace. + +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. + +" I will accompany you into the hall," said he. "Then if anything +is wrong, you have but to speak my name." + +But Orlando Brotherson, displeased by this move, took a step which +brought him between the two. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +But the question finally came. + +"Mr. Challoner, do you know my brother?" + +"I have never seen him." + +"Do you know him? Does he know you?" + +"Not at all. We are strangers." + +It was said honestly. They did not know each other. Mr. Challoner +was quite correct in his statement. + +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. + +He, therefore, allowed himself to press the question: + +"Men sometimes correspond who do not know each other. You knew +that a Brotherson lived here?" + +"Yes." + +"And hoped to learn something about me + +"No; my interest was solely with your brother." + +"With my brother? With Oswald? What interest can you have in him +apart from me? Oswald is -" + +Suddenly a thought name - an unimaginable one; one with power to +blanch even his hardy cheek and shake a soul unassailable by all +small emotions. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +" That is fortunate for me," was the courteous reply. + +But Orlando Brotherson was not himself, not at all himself as he +bowed a formal adieu and 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. + + + +XXX + +CHAOS + + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +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 or all imaginable +blisses? + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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 0. B., and that 0. 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 they 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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"You see me again, Mr. Challoner. May I beg of you a few minutes' +further conversation? I will not detain you long." + +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. + +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 dosed upon them, to the infinite +disappointment of the men about the hearth. + +"What do you wish to ask?" was Mr. Challoner's immediate inquiry. + +"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?" + +"No." + +"She was acquainted with Oswald Brotherson?" + +"She was." + +"Without your knowledge?" + +"Entirely so." + +"Corresponded with him?" + +"Not exactly." + +"How, not exactly?" + +"He wrote to her - occasionally. She wrote to him frequently - but +she never sent her letters." + +"Ah!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"I know it." + +"And that is why I found you in the same house with him." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I am not given to exaggeration," was the even reply. + +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. + +"You have still something to say," suggested the latter, as an +oppressive silence swallowed up that icy sentence I have already +recorded. + +"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." + +"You mean -" + +"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. + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Unhappy truths cannot be long concealed. How soon does the doctor +think my brother can bear these inevitable revelations?" + +"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." + +Orlando bowed his appreciation of this fact, but added quickly: + +"Who is to do the telling?" + +"Doris. Nobody else could be trusted with so delicate a task." + +"I wish to be present." + +Mr. Challoner looked up, surprised at the feeling with which this +request was charged. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +The hand on the door-knob made a sudden movement. + +"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. + +Orlando watched him till the door closed, then he too dropped his +mask. + +But it was on again, when in a little while he passed through the +sitting-room on his way upstairs. + +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. + + + +XXXI + +WHAT IS HE MAKING + + +Other boxes addressed to 0. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You see I am here," was the stranger's low greeting. + +"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?" + +"I stopped at her door." + +"Was that safe?" + +"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." + +"What is he making?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +" May Heaven help your efforts!" + +"I shall need its assistance," was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater +was by no means blind to the difficulties awaiting him. + + + +XXXII + +TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"What is the matter, child? So weary, eh? Nothing worse than that, +I hope." + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Dead!" he shrieked out, and fell back fainting in his chair, his +lips still murmuring in semi-unconsciousness, "Dead! dead!" + +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! + +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. + +"Doris?" + +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. + +"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: + +"How long?" + +She answered them as simply. + +"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." + +"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! + +"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 -" + +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." + +And Doris told him: + +"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." + +"Edith? never!" + +The words were chokingly said; he was swaying, almost falling, but +he steadied himself. + +"Who says that?" he asked. + +"It was the coroner's verdict." + +"And she died that way - died?" + +"Immediately." + +"After writing to you?" + +"Yes." + +"What was in that letter?" + +"Nothing of threat, they say. Only just cheer and expressions of +hope. Just like the others, Mr. Brotherson." + +"And they accuse her of taking her own life? Their verdict is a +lie. They did not know her." + +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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Do they know of - of my interest in this?" + +"Yes; they know about the two 0. B.s." + +"The two -" He was on his feet again, but only for a moment; his +weakness was greater than his will power. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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 -" + +"He met her at Lenox." + +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: + +"Yes, yes, I remember. I sent him there -" and paused, his mind +blank again. + +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. + +"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." + +"He did not know them." + +A laugh; a laugh which paled Doris' cheek; them his tones grew even +again, memory came back and he muttered faintly: + +"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." + +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." + +"He wrote her a letter; it frightened her. He followed it up by a +visit -" + +Doris paused; the sentence hung suspended. She had heard a step + - a hand on the door. + +Orlando had entered the room. + + + +XXXIII + +ALONE + + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Speak! I am bound to listen; you are my brother." + +Orlando turned towards Doris. She was slipping away. + +"Don't go," said he. + +But she was gone. + +Slowly he turned back. + +Oswald raised his hand and checked the words with which he would +have begun his story. + +"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." + +"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 -" + +"And what?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Edith?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +But of all this Oswald had caught but the one word. + +" Chance?" he repeated. "Orlando, I believe in God." + +"Then seek your comfort there. I find it in harnessing the winds; +in forcing the powers of nature to do my bidding." + +The other did not speak, and the silence grew heavy. It was broken, +when it was broken, by a cry from Oswald: + +"No more," said he, "no more." Then, in a yearning accent, "Send +Doris to me," + +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. + +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. + +Alone! + +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! + +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. + +He could wait for that hour. He had measured the gulf before him +and found it passable. Henceforth no looking back. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + +XXXIV + +THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Edith's father! Doris, it cannot be. Edith's father!" + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner has been in Derby for the last two weeks. He +has only one interest now; to see you well again." + +"Why?" + +Doris caught the note of pain, if not suspicion, in this query, and +smiled as she asked in turn: + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"Doris says that you have shown me this kindness from the desire +you have to see me well again Mr. Challoner. Is this true?" + +"Very true. I cannot emphasise the fact too strongly." + +Oswald's eyes met his again, this time with great earnestness. + +"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?" + +It was for Mr. Challoner's voice to tremble now, as reaching out +his hand, he declared, with unmistakable feeling: + +"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." + +Startled and deeply moved, the young man stretched out a shaking +hand towards his visitor, with the feeble but exulting cry: + +"Then you do not blame me for her wretched and mysterious death. +You hold me guiltless of the misery which nerved her despairing arm?" + +"Quite guiltless." + +Oswald's wan and pinched features took on a beautiful expression +and Mr. Challoner no longer wondered at his daughter's choice. + +"Thank God!" fell from the sick man's lips, and then there was a +silence during which their two hands met. + +It was some minutes before either spoke and then it was Oswald +who said: + +"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. + +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. + +The cause became apparent as soon as he spoke. + +"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." + +"He does not know all our reasons for distrust. He has heard +nothing about the poor washerwoman." + +"No, and he must not,- not for weeks. He has borne all that he can." + +"His confidence in his older brother is sublime. I do not share it; +but I cannot help but respect him for it." + +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. + +"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." + +Doris' large eyes burned with a weird light upon his face. + +"He has not had my dream," she murmured, with all the quiet of an +unmoved conviction. + +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. + +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: + +"Oswald, what is your idea about what I'm making up there?" + +"That it will be a success." + +"I know; but its character, its use? What do you think it is?" + +"I've an idea; but my idea don't fit the conditions." + +"How's that?" + +"The shed is too closely hemmed in. You haven't room -" + +"For what?" + +"To start an aeroplane." + +"Yet it is certainly a device for flying." + +"I supposed so; but -" + +"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." + +"Orlando!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Have you such pride as that?" + +"Precisely." + +"So much that you cannot face failure?" + +"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. + +"You want me to ascend with you.?" + +"Exactly." + +"At the end of three days?" + +"Yes." + +"Orlando, I cannot." + +"You cannot? Not strong enough yet? I'll wait then, - three days +more." + +"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." + +Orlando, balked thus at the outset, showed his displeasure. + +"You do not do justice to your will. It is strong enough to carry +you through anything." + +"It was." + +"You can force it to act for you." + +"I fear not, Orlando." + +"I counted on you and you thwart me at the most critical moment of +my life." + +Oswald smiled; his whole candid and generous nature bursting into +view, in one quick flash. + +"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." + +"Do you know such a man?" + +"I don't; but there must be many such among our workmen." + +"There isn't one; and I haven't time to send to Brooklyn. I +reckoned on you." + +"Can you wait a month?" + +"No." + +"A fortnight, then?" + +"No, not ten days." + +Oswald looked surprised. He would like to have asked why such +precipitation was necessary, but their 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. + +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 - " + +He did not need to continue. Oswald understood and flashed a +grateful look his way before saying: + +"You will make the attempt at night?" + +"Certainly." + +"And on Saturday?" + +"I've said it." + +"I will run over in my mind the qualifications of such men as I +know and acquaint you with the result to-morrow." + +"There are adjustments to be made. A man of accuracy is necessary." + +"I will remember." + +"And he must be likable. I can do nothing with a man with whom I'm +not perfectly in accord." + +"I understand that." + +"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." + +And with a proud smile in which flashed a significance which +startled Oswald, he gave a hurried nod and turned away. + +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. + + + +XXXV + +SILENCE - AND A KNOCK + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Who's there?" he asked, imperiously and with some show of anger. + +No answer, but another quiet knock. + +"Speak! or go from my door. No one has the right to intrude here. +What is your name and business?" + +Continued knocking - nothing more. + +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. + +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. + +Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient +sigh, returned to the door. + +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. + +"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. + +A final knock. + +Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned +the key with his right. + +The door remained unopened. + +Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a +moment, then he spoke up quietly, almost courteously: + +"Enter." + +But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only +the slightest tap was heard. + +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. + +The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater. + + + +XXXV + +THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + + +An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; +then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the +pistol lightly remarked: + +"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." + +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: + +"How long have you been in town?" + +The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had. + +"Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great +misfortune." + +"Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that +business as unprofitable." + +"I don't know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for +a rise sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits." + +The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow +back into the heart of the midnight woods. + +But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead I have buried +the business. You will never resuscitate it through me." + +Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there +was lightness in his tone as said: + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +Audacity often succeeds where subtlier 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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +Explain the device." + +"I will draw it." + +"You can?" + +"As I see it." + +"As you see it!" + +"Yes. It's a brilliant idea; I could never have conceived it." + +"You believe -" + +"I know." + +"Sit here. Let's see what you know." + +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. + +"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?" + +Brotherson looked and hastily drew back. He did not want the other +to note his surprise. + +"But that is a portion you never saw," he loudly declared. + +"No, but I saw this," returned Sweetwater, working busily on some +curves; "and these gave me the fillip I mentioned. The rest came +easily." + +Brotherson, in dread of his own anger, threw his pistol to the other +end of the shed: + +"You knave! You thief!" he furiously cried. + +"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." + +"For how many people have you drawn those lines?" thundered the +inexorable voice. + +"For nobody; not for myself even. This is the first time they have +left their hiding-place in my brain." + +"Can you swear to that?" + +"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. + +"And what surety have I that you do not consider this very matter +of mine as coming within the bounds you speak of?" + +"None. But you must trust me that far." + +Brotherson surveyed him with an irony which conveyed a very +different message to the detective than any he had intended. Then +quickly: + +"To how many have you spoken, dilating upon this device, and +publishing abroad my secret?" + +"I have spoken to no one, not even to Mr. Gryce. That shows my +honesty as nothing else can." + +"You have kept my secret intact?" + +"Entirely so, sir." + +"So that no one, here or elsewhere, shares our knowledge of the new +points in this mechanism?" + +"I say so, sir." + +"Then if I should kill you," came in ferocious accents, " now + - here -" + +"You would be the only one to own that knowledge. But you won't +kill me." + +"Why?" + +"Need I go into reasons? + +"Why? I say." + +"Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the +burden of another unprovoked crime" + +Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man +who dared to face him with such an accusation. + +"God! why didn't I shoot you on entrance!" he cried. "Your courage +is certainly colossal." + +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: + +"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?" + +I sincerely do." + +"You consider yourself competent?" + +"I do." + +Brotherson's eyes fell and he walked once to the extremity of the +oval flooring and back. + +"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?" + +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: + +"No! I'll not -" and paused, caught by a new and irresistible +sensation. + +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 + +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." + +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. + +Coming from the shadows, he laid his hand on the cord regulating +the rise and fall of the concealing curtain. + +"Here she is!" he cried and drew the cord. + +The canvas shook, gathered itself into great folds and disappeared +in the shadows from which he had just stepped. + +The air-car stood revealed - a startling, because wholly unique, +vision. + +Long did Sweetwater survey it, then turning with beaming face upon +the watchful inventor, he uttered a loud Hurrah. + +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. + + +XXXVII + +HIS GREAT HOUR + +Saturday night at eight o'clock. + +So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account +of weather. + +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. + +If the tempest should come up before eight! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Mr. Challoner spoke. + +"Who is the man whom Mr. Brotherson has asked to go up with him?" + +It was Oswald who answered. + +"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." + +"Such reticence seems unpardonable. You have - displayed great +patience, Oswald." + +"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. + +"You have confidence then in the success of this undertaking?" + +"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." + +"I don't understand." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +But Oswald did not seem satisfied. He continued to look at her in +vague concern. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Will he dare? Will he dare?" whispered Doris, and Oswald answered, +though it seemed next to impossible that he could have heard her: + +"He will dare. But will he survive it? Mr. Challoner," he suddenly +shouted in that gentleman's ear, "what time is it now?" + +Mr. Challoner, disengaging himself from their mutual grasp, knelt +down by the lantern to consult his watch. + +"One minute to eight," he shouted back. + +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 c1atter 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 - + +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. + +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. + +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? + +And the wind! Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before +it and fling it back to earth, a broken and despised toy. + +"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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Let me in!" he cried. "You've done the trick, Orlando, you've +done the trick." + +"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. + +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. + +As Oswald bounded towards him, he reached out his hand, but his +glance was for Doris. + +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 -" + +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 - + +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. + + + +XXXVIII + +NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A man stood directly in his way, as he made for the front door. +It was Mr. Challoner. + +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: + +"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." + +The older gentleman hesitated, seeking possibly for composure, +and when he answered it was not only without irony but with a +certain forced respect: + +"Mr. Sweetwater has just left for New York, Mr. Brotherson. He +will carry with him, no doubt, the full particulars of your great +success." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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 -" + +"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 -" + +Orlando frowned. + +"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.'" + +But the hand he reached for did not rise at his command, though +Oswald started erect and faced him with manly earnestness. + +"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." + +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: + +"Did you love Edith Challoner so much as that?" + +A glance from Oswald's eye, sadder than any tear. + +"So that you cannot be reconciled?" + +A gesture. Oswald's words were always few. + +Orlando's frown deepened. + +"Such grief I partly understand," said he. "But time will cure it. +Some day another lovely face -" + +"We'll not talk of that, Orlando." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Then you do blame me?" Orlando turned and was looking full at +Oswald. + +"I blame your unreasonableness and your overweening pride." + +Orlando stood a moment, then moved towards the door. The heaviness +of his step smote upon Oswald's ear and caused him to exclaim: + +"Forgive me, Orlando." But the other cut him short with an +imperative: + +"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. + +No heartfelt understanding was possible between these two men. + +Crossing the hall, Orlando knocked at the door of Doris' little +sitting-room. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +"Impossible," she murmured. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable +small things without a name, skurried from lair to lair. + +He heard them not. + +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. + +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. + +He had crossed the Rubicon of this world's hopes and fears, but he +had been unconscious of the passage. + + + +XXXIX + +THE AVENGER + + + "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." + +Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and +heartrending duties since the blow which had desolated his home +fell upon him. + +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. + +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: + +"Are we alone, Mr. Challoner, or is that man Sweetwater lurking +somewhere within hearing?" + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +Mr. Brotherson took a step forward. His manner was as cold as the +heart which lay like a stone in his bosom. + +"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." + +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 + +"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." + +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. + +Brotherson went coldly on: + +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." + +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: + +"There was another - a poor woman - she died suddenly - and her +wound was not unlike that inflicted upon Edith. Did you -" + +"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 -" + +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. + +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. + +Orlando could scarcely raise his hand before the other's was upon +his throat. + +"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!" + + +XL + +DESOLATE + + +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. + +"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." + +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 - + +Impetuously Oswald struggled with his weakness, raised himself in +Mr. Challoner's arms and cried in loud revolt: + +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." + +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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"I cannot," said he - "not even the left one. May God forgive me!" + +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. + +"Where are you going?" he demanded in tones which made Orlando turn. + +"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." + +"Orlando!" Visions were passing before Oswald's eyes, soul-crushing +visions such as in his blame less 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 -" + +"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 of 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." + +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. + +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. + + + +XLI + +FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING + + +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?" + +Four o'clock! The light was still burning, the pile of letters he +was writing increasing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +XLI + +AT SIX + + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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: + +"I do not know why you have come back, but never was man more +welcome. Mr. Brotherson has confessed." +Confessed!" + +"Yes, he killed both women; my daughter and his neighbour, the +washerwoman, with a -" + +"Wait," broke in Sweetwater, eagerly, "let me tell you." And +stooping, he whispered something in the other's ear. + +Mr. Challoner stared at him amazed, then slowly nodded his head. + +"How came you to think -" he began; but Sweetwater in his great +anxiety interrupted him with a quick: + +"Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? +Where is he? That's the important thing now." + +"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?" + +"In his hangar in the woods. Where else would he go to -" + +"I have thought of that. Shall we start out alone or take witnesses +with us?" + +"We will go alone. Does Oswald anticipate -" + +"He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in +there. Doris and her father are with him." + +"We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it +will hold off for another hour." + +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. + +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. + +A murmur of dismay greeted him. The oval of that great lid stood +up against the forest background. + +"He has escaped," cried Mr. Challoner. + +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! + +The two men drew back and their glances crossed. + +"Let us return to the highroad," whispered Sweetwater; "we can see +nothing here." + +Mr. Challoner, trembling very much, wheeled slowly about. + +"Wait," enjoined Sweetwater. "First let me take a look inside." + +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. + +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." + +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: + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Take them away! I saw him; he was falling like a shot." + +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. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green + diff --git a/old/ionly10.zip b/old/ionly10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bcc7ce --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ionly10.zip diff --git a/old/ionly11.txt b/old/ionly11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9fe474d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ionly11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green +#3 in our series by Anna Katharine Green + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Initials Only + +Author: Anna Katharine Green + +Release Date: August, 1999 [EBook #1857] +[This file was last updated on April 9, 2005] + +Edition: 11 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INITIALS ONLY *** + + + + +This Project Gutenberg Etext produced by an anonymous volunteer. + + + + + + + +Initials Only + +by Anna Katharine Green + + + + +CONTENTS + +BOOK I + +AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + +I POINSETTIAS +II "I KNOW THE MAN" +III THE MAN +IV SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE +V THE RED CLOAK +VI INTEGRITY +VII THE LETTERS +VIII STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE +IX THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + + +BOOK II + +AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + +X A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION +XI ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS +XII Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE +XIII TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN'S HEART +XIV A CONCESSION +XV THAT'S THE QUESTION +XVI OPPOSED +XVII IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART +XVIII WHAT AM I TO DO NOW? +XIX THE DANGER MOMENT +XX CONFUSION +XXI A CHANGE +XXII O. B. AGAIN + + +BOOK III + +THE HEART OF MAN + +XXIII DORIS +XXIV SUSPENSE +XXV THE OVAL HUT +XXVI SWEETWATER RETURNS +XXVII THE IMAGE OF DREAD +XXVIII I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN +XXIX DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER? +XXX CHAOS +XXXI WHAT IS HE MAKING? +XXXII TELL ME, TELL IT ALL +XXXIII ALONE! +XXXIV THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME +XXXV SILENCE--AND A KNOCK +XXXVI THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT +XXXVII HIS GREAT HOUR +XXXVIII NIGHT +XXXIX THE AVENGER +XL DESOLATE +XLI FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING +XLII AT SIX + + + + + +BOOK I + +AS SEEN BY TWO STRANGERS + + + +I + + +"A remarkable man!" + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +I pointed to a man hurrying around the corner just ahead of us. + +"Yes, he's remarkably well built. I noticed him when he came out +of the Clermont." This was a hotel we had just passed. + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Pilate!" escaped my lips, in a sort of nervous chuckle. But +George shook his head at me. + +"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--" + +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. + +"What's the matter?" I cried. "What can have happened? Let's go +see, George. Perhaps it has something to do with our man." + +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. + +"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." + +"He came out of the Clermont," I suggested. + +"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." + +"I'll be quiet." + +"Remember." + +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: + +"Is it murder?" + +"The beautiful Miss Challoner!" + +"A millionairess in her own right!" + +"Killed, they say." + +"No, no! suddenly dead; that's all." + +"George, what shall we do?" I managed to cry into my husband's ear. + +"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." + +"But--but is it right?" I urged, in an importunate whisper. +"Should we go home while he--" + +"Hush! My first duty is to you. We will go make our visit; but +to-morrow--" + +"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. + +He drew me as near to the edge of the crowd as he could. There +were new murmurs all about us. + +"If it's a case of heart-failure, why send for the police?" asked +one. + +"It is better to have an officer or two here," grumbled another. + +"Here comes a cop." + +"Well, I'm going to vamoose." + +"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." + +Slater was the assistant manager of the Clermont, and one of +George's oldest friends. + +"Then hurry," said I. "I am being crushed here." + +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. + +"Let us in, Slater," he begged. "My wife feels a little faint; she +has been knocked about so by the crowd." + +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. + +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--" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +"Was she alone when she fell?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Are you feeling quite well, now?" + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes, and had been writing a letter. She fell with it still in her +hand." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +It was fixed with a purpose I had no trouble in understanding. + + + +II + +"I KNOW THE MAN" + + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"Hush! Let us listen rather than talk. What are they saying over +there? Can you hear?" + +"No. And I cannot bear to look. Yet I don't want to go away. It's +all so dreadful." + +"It's devilish. Such a beautiful girl! Laura, I must leave you +for a moment. Do you mind?" + +"No, no; yet--" + +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. + +He came, when he did come, in some haste and with certain marks of +increased agitation. + +"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." + +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. + + +"Are you going to tell him?" was my question to George as we made +our way down to the lobby. + +"That depends. First, I am going to see you settled in a room quite +remote from this business." + +"I shall not like that." + +"I know, my dear, but it is best." + +I could not gainsay this. + +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. + +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. + +"Tell me--tell," I begged. + +He tried to smile at my eagerness, but the attempt was ghastly. + +"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." + +"I will tell what I saw," said I. + +"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." + +"We can never make them understand how he looked." + +"No. I don't expect to." + +"Or his manner as he fled." + +"Nor that either." + +"We can only describe what we saw him do." + +"That's all." + +"Oh, what an adventure for quiet people like us! George, I don't +believe he shot her." + +"He must have." + +"But they would have seen--have heard--the people around, I mean." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +George bowed, and the chief spokesman--I am sure he was a +police-officer of some kind--asked him to tell what it was. + +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: + +"It's the peculiarity of the occurrence which affects my husband. +The thing we saw may mean nothing." + +"Let us hear what it was and we will judge." + +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. + +"Washed his hands--a gentleman--out there in the snow--just +after the alarm was raised here?" repeated one. + +"And you saw him come out of this house?" another put in. + +"Yes, sir; we noticed him particularly." + +"Can you describe him?" + +It was Mr. Slater who put this question; he had less control over +himself, and considerable eagerness could be heard in his voice. + +"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." + +"His clothes. Describe his clothes." There was an odd sound in +Mr. Slater's voice. + +"He wore a silk hat and there was fur on his overcoat. I think +the fur was black." + +Mr. Slater stepped back, then moved forward again with a determined +air. + +"I know the man," said he. + + + +III + +THE MAN + + +"You know the man?" + +"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." + +"His name." + +"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." + +"A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together." + +"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." + +"Call up Clausen." + +The manager stepped to the telephone. + +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-- + +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. + +I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I +raised my hand and pointed down at the street. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Slater at once put his question: + +"Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?" + +"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--" + +"Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly +just before." + +"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." + +"But you are sure of that back?" + +"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." + +"Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him." + +The old man bowed and went out. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + _____________________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 + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + + 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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The writing was in Mr. Slater's hand, and the words were: + + "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." + + + +V + +SWEET LITTLE MISS CLARKE + + +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. + +Instantly they absorbed all my attention, though I dared not give +them a direct look, and continued to observe them only in the glass. + +"Is it one family?" I asked. + +"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." + +"Their word ought to be good." + +George nodded. + +"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?" + +"They did last night. I don't know how they will meet this +statement of the doctor's." + +"George?" + +He leaned nearer. + +"Have you ever thought that she might have been a suicide? That +she stabbed herself?" + +"No, for in that case a weapon would have been found." + +"And are you sure that none was?" + +"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." + +"And the detectives are still here?" + +"I just saw one." + +"George?" + +Again his head came nearer. + +"Have they searched the lobby? I believe she had a weapon." + +"Laura!" + +"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--" + +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. + +"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. + +"A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously +homely but agreeable enough. I took quite a fancy to him. Why?" + +"I am looking at him now." + +"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." + +"He is watching those people. No, he isn't. How quickly he +disappeared!" + +"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." + +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. + +"What does he want?" I asked, as soon as George had returned to +my side. + +"He wants me to stand ready to obey any summons the police may +send me." + +"Then they still suspect Brotherson?" + +"They must." + +My head rose a trifle as I glanced up at George. + +"Then we are not altogether out of it?" I emphasised, complacently. + +He smiled which hardly seemed apropos. Why does George sometimes +smile when I am in my most serious moods. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"I doubt if you would have been given the opportunity. I noticed +that we were slightly de trop towards the last." + +"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." + +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. + +"No," he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. "Been pushed about +all day. No time for anything." + +"Then let me tell you--" + +But he would have dinner first. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"What are the points? What's the difficulty?" he asked. "A +woman has been shot--" + +"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." + +"Dr. Heath is a reliable man and one of our ablest coroners." + +"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?" + +"Yes; so much was told me on my way down." + +"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." + +"Suicide by stabbing calls for a weapon. Yet none has been found, +I hear." + +"None." + +"Yet she was killed that way?" + +"Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than a +needle but not so large as the ordinary stiletto." + +"Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She +had no companion near her?" + +"None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who +were seated at the other end of the room." + +"And you do believe them?" + +"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." + +"It wouldn't seem so." + +"Yet they swear up and down that nobody crossed the room towards +Miss Challoner." + +"So they tell me." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"Will you take my arm, sir?" + +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. + +"Have you had a chance at this thing?" he asked. "Been over the +ground--studied the affair carefully?" + +"Yes, sir; they were good enough to allow it." + +"Very well, then, you're in a position to pioneer me. You've seen +it all and won't be in a hurry." + +"No; I'm at the end of my rope. I haven't an idea, sir." + +"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." + +Nevertheless, he looked ten years younger than when he came in, or +so thought those who knew him. + +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. + +"Who were the first to rush in here after the Parrishes gave the +alarm?" + +"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." + +"Good! their names?" + +"Mark Sowerby and Claus Hennerberg. Honest Germans--men who have +played here for years." + +"And who followed them? Who came next on the scene?" + +"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." + +"Who did touch her? Anybody, before the father came in?" + +"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." + +"I suppose she has been carefully questioned?" + +"Very, I should say." + +"And she speaks of no weapon?" + +"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." + +"Father and all?" + +"Yes." + +"But the blood? Surely there must have been some show of blood?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"Yes. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at +the time, says that ten minutes at least must have elapsed." + +"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?" + +"Yes, great big scarlet ones. Nobody noticed--nobody looked. A +panic like that seems to paralyse people." + +"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." + +"You will like her. You will believe every word she says." + +"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." + +"The stones have all been turned over once." + +"By you?" + +"Not altogether by me." + +"Then they will bear being turned over again. I want to be witness +of the operation." + +"Where will you see Miss Clarke?" + +"Wherever she pleases--only I can't walk far." + +"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." + +"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." + +Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be +fully enlightened when the time came. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"Did you manage it?" + +"I succeeded in getting her head into my lap, nothing more." + +"And sat so?" + +"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." + +"You knew she was dead, then?" + +"I felt her to be so." + +"How felt?" + +"I was sure--I never questioned it." + +"You have seen women in a faint?" + +"Yes, many times." + +"What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner +dead simply because she lay still and apparently lifeless?" + +"I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only +know how I felt." + +"Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or +unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her heart?" + +Miss Clarke started, and her sweet face showed a moment's perplexity. + +"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." + +"No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me +positively whether you did this or not?" + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"The only one," echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight +rising sound of query in his voice. + +"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. + +"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." + +It was this statement, otherwise worded, which gave me my triumph +over George. + + + +V + +THE RED CLOAK + + +"What results? Speak up, Sweetwater." + +"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." + +"There now remain the guests." + +"And after them--(pardon me, Mr. Gryce) the general public which +rushed in rather promiscuously last night." + +"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." + +A bulletin was put up. + +Some hours later, Sweetwater re-entered the room, and, approaching +Mr. Gryce with a smile, blurted out: + +"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." + +"Embarrassment? Humph! a man?" + +"No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients. I found out in +a jiffy all they could tell me about her." + +"A woman! We didn't expect that. Where is she? Still in the +lobby?" + +"No, sir. She took the elevator while I was talking with the clerk." + +"There's nothing in it. You mistook her expression." + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce nodded thoughtfully, but made no immediate effort to rise. + +"Is that all you know about her?" he asked. + +"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." + +"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." + +Sweetwater did as he was bid, then went back to his place in the +lobby. + +But he returned almost instantly. + +"Mrs. Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to--to +leave, sir." + +"To leave?" + +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." + +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: + + "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." + + +"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." + +"Here goes then!" cried Sweetwater, and quickly left the room. + +When he returned, it was not with his most hopeful air. + +"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." + +"She did! Sweetwater, I will see her. Manage it for me at once." + +"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." + +"Very well." But the look which the old detective threw at his +bandaged legs was not without its pathos. + +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: + +"Am I speaking to Mrs. Watkins of Nashville?" + +"You are," she faltered, with another rapid change of colour. "I +--I am just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I--" + +"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?" + +"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--" + +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:-- + +"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--" + +"Yes." She raised her head. "So were a dozen others--" + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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." + +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: + +"All ready, mother. I'm glad we are going to the Clarendon. I +hate hotels where people die almost before your eyes." + +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. + +"Who is this?" demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing +from one to the other. + +"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--" + +"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. + +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: + +"The person who stooped wore a long red cloak. Probably you +preceded your daughter, Mrs. Watkins." + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Caroline"--Then the mother broke down. "Show the gentleman what +you picked up from the lobby floor last night." + +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. + +"It was lying there and I picked it up. I don't see any harm in +that." + +"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. + +"You have washed this?" he asked. + +"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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Does that frighten you? Are you so affected by the thought of +blood?" + +"Don't ask me. And I put the thing under my pillow! I thought +it was so--so pretty." + +"Mrs. Watkins," Mr. Gryce from that moment ignored the daughter, +"did you see it there?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"None whatever, Madam." + +"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." + +"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." + +Her shudder, as she seated herself, was very convincing. She was +too young to simulate so successfully emotions of this character. + +"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." + +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. + +"They are the same she is wearing now," the anxious mother assured +him. "Wait, and I will get them for you." + +"No need. Let her hold out her hands in token of amity. I shall +soon see." + +They returned to where the girl still sat, wrapped in her cloak, +sobbing still, but not so violently. + +"Caroline, you may take off your things," said the mother, drawing +the pins from her own hat. "We shall not go to-day." + +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. + +"Will--will he tell?" she whispered behind its ample folds into her +mother's ear. + +The answer came quickly, but not in the mother's tones. Mr. Gryce's +ears had lost none of their ancient acuteness. + +"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?" + +"No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn't have to step out +of my way; I really didn't." + +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. + +He could soon tell. + + + +VI + +INTEGRITY + + +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: + +"I have but one idea left on the subject." + +"And what is that?" Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment. + +"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." + +"Sweetwater!" + +A faint blush rose to the old man's cheek. + +"Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over?" + +"Yes." + +The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it +was with a downcast air. + +"Nothing doing," said he. + +And then there was silence. + +"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. + +"That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it +to her maid?" + +"If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman." + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem +inclined to speak. + +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. + +Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then +laid it down again, with an air of seeming abstraction. + +The father's attention was caught. + +"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--" + +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: + +"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to +think it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?" + +"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!" + +Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with +the truth. + +"It was picked up--last night--from the lobby floor. There is +seemingly nothing to connect it with her death. Yet--" + +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: + +"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--" + +"What about the one?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +"They are the letters of a gentleman." + +"With the one exception." + +"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: + +"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." + +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? + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + + + +VII + +THE LETTERS + +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. + +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. + +"Well, Gryce, this is a dark case," he observed, as at his bidding +the two detectives took their seats. + +Mr. Gryce nodded; so did Sweetwater. + +"The darkest that has ever come to my knowledge," pursued the +coroner. + +Mr. Gryce again nodded; but not so, Sweetwater. For some reason +this simple expression of opinion seemed to have given him a mental +start. + +"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." + +"I'm sorry that I've been able to do so little," remarked Mr. Gryce. + +The coroner darted him a quick look. + +"You are not satisfied? You have some different idea?" he asked. + +The detective frowned at his hands crossed over the top of his cane, +then shaking his head, replied: + +"The verdict you mention is the only natural one, of course. I +see that you have been talking with Miss Challoner's former maid?" + +"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." + +And Dr. Heath read: + + "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." + +"A threat!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Brotherson!" exclaimed the young detective in loud surprise. +"Brotherson! The man who--" + +"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." + +"Brotherson!" The word came softly now, and with a thoughtful +intonation. "He saw her die." + +"Why do you say that?" + +"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." + +"Have you settled it beyond dispute that Brotherson is really the +man who was seen doing this?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"Not Miss Challoner's maid?" + +"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." + +"I'll find the man; I have a double reason for doing that now; he +shall not escape me." + +Dr. Heath expressed his satisfaction, and gave some orders. +Meanwhile, Mr. Gryce had not uttered a word. + + + +VIII + +STRANGE DOINGS FOR GEORGE + + +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. + +"Wake up, little woman," I heard, "and trot away to bed. I'm going +out and may not be in till daybreak." + +"You! going out! at ten o'clock at night, tired as you are--as we +both are! What has happened--Oh!" + +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. + +"Mr. Sweetwater," explained George. "We are going out together. It +is necessary, or you may be sure I should not leave you." + +I was quite wide awake enough by now to understand. "Oh, I know. +You are going to hunt up the man. How I wish--" + +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. + +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. + +As soon as the two were in the street, the detective turned towards +George and said: + +"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?" + +"I think so. There's his height and a certain strong look in his +face. I cannot describe it." + +"You don't need to. Come! we're all right. You don't mind making +a night of it?" + +"Not if it is necessary." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +When they stopped, which was in a few minutes, he said to George: + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +"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?" + +"Is this a secret one?" + +"It wasn't advertised." + +"Are we carpenters or masons that we can count on admittance?" + +"I am a carpenter. Don't you think you can be a mason for the +occasion?" + +"I doubt it, but--" + +"Hush! I must speak to this man." + +George stood back, and a few words passed between Sweetwater and +a shadowy figure which seemed to have sprung up out of the sidewalk. + +"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. + +"He didn't go in by it; yet I believe he's safe enough inside," was +the muttered answer. + +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. + +"Are we going back? Are you going to give up the job?" George asked. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"But we! What are we going to do if we cannot get in front or rear?" + +"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." + +"Perhaps it swings on hinges," suggested George. "It looks like +that sort of a window." + +"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?" + +George pinched his arm encouragingly, and Sweetwater, with an +amused grunt, softly unlatched the window and pulled it wide open. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Sweetwater, in whom satisfaction was fast taking the place of +impatience and regret, pushed the window to before asking George +this question: + +"Did you hear the voice of the man whose action attracted, your +attention outside the Clermont?" + +"No." + +"Did you note just now the large shadow dancing on the ceiling over +the speaker's head?" + +"Yes, but I could judge nothing from that." + +"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." + +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: + +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: + +"Who's that? What do you want down there?" + +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: + +"It's the police. The chief has got ahead of me. Was that the man +we're after--the one who shouted down?" + +"No. Neither was he the speaker. The voices are very different." + +"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." + +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. + +"Well?" inquired George, somewhat breathlessly. "Do you want me? +They don't seem to be coming out." + +"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?" + + + +IX + +THE INCIDENT OF THE PARTLY LIFTED SHADE + +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. + +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. + +"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? + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +"Yes; but-" + +"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." + +George felt non-plussed. + +"But surely," said he, "the gentleman named Brotherson doesn't live +here." + +"The inventor does." + +"Oh!" + +"And--but I will explain later." + +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: + +Don't look up till he is fairly in range with the light. + +There's nothing to fear; he doesn't know either of us. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +George shook his head. He could not rid himself of the old +impression he had formed of the man in the snow. + +"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?" + +"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?" + +He was returning to them from the door he had unlocked and left +slightly ajar. + +"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." + +"I have nothing to do with the club--" + +"But you spoke before it." + +"Yes." + +"Then you can give us some sort of an idea how we are to apply for +membership." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You seem to have forgotten your errand," came in quiet, if not +good-natured, sarcasm from their patiently waiting host. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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." + +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. + +But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He +might witness and hear, but it was long before he understood. + +"Brotherson?" repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to +the breaking-point. "Why do you call me that?" + +"Because it is your name." + +"You called me Dunn a minute ago." + +"That is true." + +"Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?" + +"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." + +"And you? By what name are you known?" + +"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?" + +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: + +"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?" + +He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, +lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +But you will not lack a suitable guide. + + + + + + +BOOK II + + +AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER + + + +X + +A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION + + +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. + +"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." + +The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, +surveyed him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow +expected. + +"You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort +those papers over there, you may." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"Mr. Brotherson, I believe," said he, as he motioned his visitor to +sit. + +"That is my name, sir." + +"Orlando Brotherson?" + +"The same, sir." + +"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." + +"Miss Challoner?" + +"Certainly; Miss Challoner." + +"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." + +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: + +"Do you recognise the signature?" + +"Yes, it is mine." + +"Then you acknowledge yourself the author of these lines?" + +"Most certainly. Have I not said that this is my signature?" + +"Do you remember the words of this note, Mr. Brotherson?" + +"Hardly. I recollect its tenor, but not the exact words." + +"Read them." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"You ask that?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Ah! and so you thought a threat was due her?" + +"A threat?" + +"These words contain a threat, do they not?" + +"They may. I was hardly master of myself at the time. I may have +expressed myself in an unfortunate manner." + +"Read the words, Mr. Brotherson. I really must insist that you do +so." + +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: + +"I remember it perfectly now. It is not a letter to be proud of. +I hope--" + +"Pray finish, Mr. Brotherson." + +"That you are not seeking to establish a connection between this +letter and her violent death?" + +"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." + +"Pardon me, Dr. Heath; I cannot flatter myself so far. You overrate +my influence with the lady you name." + +"You believe, then, that she was sincere in her rejection of your +addresses?" + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Your wish can very easily be gratified," returned the official, +pressing an electric button on his desk; + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +"This good-bye--do you remember it? The exact language, I mean?" + +"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." + +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. + +"This was when?" put in Dr. Heath, anxious to bridge the pause which +must have been very painful to the listening father. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +"Yes. I had no wish to address her again. I had exhausted in this +one outburst whatever humiliation I felt." + +"And she? Did she give no sign, make you no answer?" + +"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." + +This time his bitterness did not pass unrebuked by the coroner: + +"Remember the grey hairs of the only Challoner who can hear you, +and respect his grief." + +Mr. Brotherson bowed. + +"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. + +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: + +"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." + +"On the spot?" + +"In the hotel, I mean." + +"There you are right; I was in the hotel." + +"At the time of her death?" + +"Very near the time. I remember hearing some disturbance in the +lobby behind me, just as I was passing out at the Broadway entrance." + +"You did, and did not return?" + +"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." + +This was so true and the look which accompanied the words was so +frank that the coroner hesitated a moment before he said: + +"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." + +"I had no interview with Miss Challoner." + +"But you saw her? Saw her that evening and just before the accident?" + +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?" + +"Because I believe that you did. From a distance possibly, but yet +directly and with no possibility of mistake." + +"Do you put that as a question?" + +"I do. Did you see her figure or face that night?" + +"I did." + +Nothing--not even the rattling of Sweetwater's papers--disturbed +the silence which followed this admission. + +"From where?" Dr. Heath asked at last. + +"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." + +"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." + +"It was--such--a spot." + +"Then I think I can locate it for you, or do you prefer to locate +it yourself?" + +"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." + +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. + +"You saw Miss Challoner lift her hand, you say. Which hand, and +what was in it? Anything?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +Looking up with a smile which had elements in it he was hardly +conscious of perhaps himself, he asked in an off-hand way: + +"Then why did you take such pains to wash your hands of the affair +the moment you had left the hotel?" + +"I do not understand." + +"You passed around the corner into--street, did you not?" + +"Very likely. I could go that way as well as another." + +"And stopped at the first lamp-post?" + +"Oh, I see. Someone saw that childish action of mine." + +"What did you mean by it?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +But the feeling did not last. + +"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." + + + +XI + +ALIKE IN ESSENTIALS + + +"Mr. Gryce, I am either a fool or the luckiest fellow going. You +must decide which." + +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. + +"Sweetwater, is that you?" + +"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." + +A grunt from the region of the library table, then the sarcastic +remark: + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Nor any evidence that it had ever been there." + +"No. I'm not proud of the chain which lacks a link where it should +be strongest." + +"We shall never supply that link." + +"I quite agree with you." + +"That chain we must throw away." + +"And forge another?" + +Sweetwater approached and sat down. + +"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--" + +"What, Sweetwater?" + +"A well-founded distrust. Mr. Gryce, I'm going to ask you a +question." + +"Ask away. Ask fifty if you want to." + +"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?" + +"No, it stands alone. That's why it is so puzzling." + +"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--" + +"Wait! the washerwoman in Hicks Street! Sweetwater, what have you +got up your sleeve? You do mean that Brooklyn washerwoman, don't +you?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +And he read: + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'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. + +"'His reply threw them all into confusion. The tenant of that room +was the best, the quietest and most respectable man in either +building. + +"'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.' + +"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. + +"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? + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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." + + + +XII + +Mr. GRYCE FINDS AN ANTIDOTE FOR OLD AGE + +"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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"And here's mine." + +Next minute the two heads were closer than ever together, and the +business had begun. + + + +XIII + +TIME, CIRCUMSTANCE, AND A VILLAIN'S HEART + + +"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." + +"Humph! we will set that down, then, as so much against us." + +"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." + +"True. The problem is such as a nightmare offers. For years my +dreams have been haunted by a gnome who proposes just such puzzles." + +"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." + +"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.'" + +"Gosh! has he heard this story?" + +"Who?" + +"The gentleman in question." + +"Mr. Brotherson?" + +"Yes." + +"I don't think so. It was told me in confidence." + +"Told you, Mr. Gryce? Pardon my curiosity." + +"By Mr. Challoner." + +"Oh! by Mr. Challoner." + +"He is greatly distressed at having the disgraceful suggestion of +suicide attached to his daughter's name. Notwithstanding the +circumstances,--not--withstanding 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." + +"And what--what did you--say?" asked Sweetwater, with a halting +utterance and his face full of thought. + +"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." + +"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." + +"How can you be sure?" + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"I must be at Headquarters to-morrow." + +"Good, then let it be to-morrow. A taxicab, Sweetwater. The subway +for the young. I can no longer manage the stairs." + + + +XIV + +A CONCESSION + + +"It is true; there seems to be something extraordinary in the +coincidence." + +Thus Mr. Brotherson, in the presence of the Inspector. + +"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?" + +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: + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +Again that chill smile preceding the quiet answer: + +"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." + +"But why make use of one name as a gentleman of leisure and quite +a different one as the honest workman?" + +"Ah, there you touch upon my real secret. I have a reason for +keeping my identity quiet till my invention is completed." + +"A reason connected with your anarchistic tendencies?" + +"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." + +"We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn. Physical overthrow carries more +than the immediate sufferer with it." + +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. + +Perhaps it was of a nature to surprise even him. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Do you mind telling us where you went in New York?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +He was half-way out the door, but his name quickly spoken by the +Inspector drew him back. + +"Anything more?" he asked. + +The Inspector smiled. + +"You are a man of considerable analytic power, as I take it, Mr. +Brotherson. You must have decided long ago how this woman died." + +"Is that a question, Inspector?" + +"You may take it as such." + +"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." + +The air seemed to have lost its vitality and the sun its sparkle +when he was gone. + +"Now, what do you think, Gryce?" + +The old man rose and came out of his corner. + +"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." + +"I'm inclined to believe him the latter." + +"And so give the whole matter the go-by?" + +"Possibly." + +"It will be a terrible disappointment to Sweetwater." + +"That's nothing." + +"And to me." + +"That's different. I'm disposed to consider you, Gryce--after all +these years." + +"Thank you; I have done the state some service." + +"What do you want? You say the mine is unworkable." + +"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." + +"The outlay? I am thinking of the outlay." + +"Mr. Challoner will see to that. I have his word that no reasonable +amount will daunt him." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + + + +XV + +THAT'S THE QUESTION + + +"How many times has he seen you?" + +"Twice." + +"So that he knows your face and figure?" + +"I'm afraid so. He cannot help remembering the man who faced him +in his own room." + +"That's unfortunate." + +"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." + +"You've done very well as it is." + +"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." + +"Do. It'll make you look as weak as water. It'll be blonde, of +course." + +"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. + +"Sweetwater! We'd better give the task to another man--to someone +Brotherson has never seen and won't be suspicious of?" + +"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." + +"But the doubt. Can you do all this in doubt of the issue?" + +"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." + +"Yes, that's essential." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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?" + +"My mother's--Zugg." + +"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." + +"Thanks. You're sure the Superintendent is with me?" + +"Yes, but not the Inspector. He sees nothing but the victim of a +strange coincidence in Orlando Brotherson." + +"Again the scales hang even. But they won't remain so. One side +is bound to rise. Which? That's the question, Mr. Gryce." + + + +XVI + +OPPOSED + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"Not much sleep, eh? We didn't think you'd like it. Did you see +anything?" + +Now this gave him the one excuse he wanted. + +"See anything?" he repeated, apparently with all imaginable innocence. +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Don't you know what happened in that room?" + +"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. + +At half past six he found the janitor. He was, to all appearance, +in a state of great excitement and he spoke very fast. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +The first page of his adventure in the Hicks Street tenement had +been turned, and he was ready to start upon another. + + + +XVII + +IN WHICH A BOOK PLAYS A LEADING PART + + +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: + +"Halloo! coming to live in this hole?" + +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: + +"Yes, this is to be my castle. Are you the owner of the buildings? +If so--" + +"I am not the owner. I live next door. Haven't I seen you before, +young man?" + +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: + +"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." + +Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. +Brotherson stared at the youth, then ventured another question: + +"A carpenter, eh?" + +"Yes, and I'm an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It's my one +card of introduction." + +"I've seen you. I've seen you somewhere else than in Schuper's shop. +Do you remember me?" + +"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. + +But Brotherson was not to be caught. + +"You slept in the building last night? In the other half, I mean?" + +"Yes, I--slept." + +The strong lip of the other man curled disdainfully. + +"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?" + +"Yes; they told me so this morning." + +"Was that the first you'd heard of it?" + +"Sure!" The word almost jumped at the questioner. "Do you suppose +I'd have taken the room if--" + +But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out, +disgust in every feature,--plain, unmistakable, downright disgust, +and nothing more! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"You're better this evening," he heard in those kindly tones which +so confused and irritated him. + +"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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +Relieved for the moment, he left his post and, sitting down on the +edge of his cot, gave himself up to thought. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"You find me at work," he remarked. "I don't suppose you understand +any but your own?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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? + +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?" + +"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. + +"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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + +XVIII + +WHAT AM I TO DO NOW + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +The young detective's moment had come. + +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. + + +A strain of well-known music broke softly, from the box and sent its +vibrations through the wall. + +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. + +It was Edith! Miss Challoner's first name, and the tone bespoke a +shaken soul. + +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--" + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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-- + +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. + +"The man is too strong for me," he cried. "His heart is granite; +he meets my every move. What am I to do now?" + + + +XIX + +THE DANGER MOMENT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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." + +Sweetwater in the darkness of his closet laughed in his gleeful +appreciation. + +"Great!" was his comment. "Just great! She has thought of +everything--or Mr. Gryce has." + +Meanwhile, the girl was proceeding with increased volubility. + +"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." + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"No one can overhear." + +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." + +"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?" + +"I believe you to have taken every advantage possible to spy upon +your mistress. I believe that, yes." + +"From interest, monsieur, from great interest." + +"Self-interest." + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"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--" + +"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." + +"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!" + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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: + + "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-" + +The paper dropped from the reader's hand. It was several minutes +before he took up another. + +This one, as it happened, antedated the other, as will appear on +reading it: + + "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." + +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. + +A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding +sheet. The following was read, and then the fourth and last: + + "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?" + + + +XX + +CONFUSION + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +The frown had come back to the forehead of the indignant man who +confronted him. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"I do not believe you." + +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. + +"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." + +With a satirical play of feature which could hardly be called a +smile, he nodded and left the room. + + + +XXI + +A CHANGE + + +"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." + +But our young detective did neither. + +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: + +"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." + + + +XXII + +O. B. AGAIN + + +"What's happened? Something very important. I ought to hope so +after this confounded failure." + +"Failure? Didn't he read the letters?" + +"Yes, he read them. Had to, but--" + +"Didn't weaken? Eh?" + +"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 +draw him." + +"Humph! I knew we had a reputation for finesse, but I didn't know +that it ran that high." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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." + +"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?" + +"N--no." The hesitating admission was only a proof of Sweetwater's +obstinacy. + +"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." + +"Only another? I thought there were a half-dozen, at least." + +"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." + +"Two O. B.s! Isn't that incredible, Mr. Gryce?" + +"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." + +"The second O. B.?" + +"Yes." + +Sweetwater's face instantly lit up. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"The Superintendent--how does he feel about it?" + +"He was the first one to mention you." + +"And the Inspector?" + +"Is glad to see us on a new tack." + +A pause, during which the eager light in the young detective's eye +clouded over. Presently he remarked: + +"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." + +Mr. Gryce's eyes twinkled. + +"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." + +"The prospect grows pleasing. Where am I to look for my man?" + +"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." + +"I see. It's a short journey I have before me." + +"It'll bring the colour to your cheeks." + +"Oh, I'm not kicking." + +"You will start to-morrow." + +"Wish it were to-day." + +"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." + +"Another woman!" + +"No, a child;--well, I won't say child exactly; she must be sixteen." + +"Doris Scott." + +"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--" + +"I begin to see." + +"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." + +"Was this letter signed O. B.?" + +"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." + +"How not? Torn off, do you mean?" + +"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." + +"If I remember rightly Miss Challoner's letter to this child was +free from all mystery." + +"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." + +Sweetwater took up the sheet Mr. Gryce pushed towards him and +re-read these lines: + + "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." + + +"That to a child of sixteen!" + +"Just so." + +"D-o-r-i-s spells something besides Doris." + +"Yet there is a Doris. Remember that O. B. says in one of his +letters, 'Doris is learning to embroider.'" + +"Yes, I remember that." + +"So you must first find Doris." + +"Very good, sir." + +"And as Miss Challoner's letter was directed to Derby, Pennsylvania, +you will go to Derby." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Anything more?" + +"I've been reading this letter again." + +"It's worth it." + +"The last sentence expresses a hope." + +"That has been noted." + +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." + +Mr. Gryce smiled; but there was more age, wisdom and sympathy for +youthful enthusiasm in that smile than there was confidence or hope. + + + +BOOK III + + +THE HEART OF MAN + + + +XXIII + +DORIS + + +"A young girl named Doris Scott?" + +The station-master looked somewhat sharply at the man he was +addressing, and decided to give the direction asked. + +"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-- + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +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." + +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: + +"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?" + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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--" + +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." + +"He!" Sweetwater perked up his ears. "Who do you mean by he?" + +"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." + +But a thunderbolt could not have moved Sweetwater after the hearing +of that name. "Mr. Brotherson!" he echoed. "Brotherson! Not +Orlando?" + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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-- + +"Edith! Edith!" + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +She wrenched her hand from his, panting with impatience and a vague +alarm. But she answered him distinctly: + +"On the Twenty-fifth of last month, just an hour after he was made +manager. He fell in a faint at the Works." + +The day--the very day of Miss Challoner's death! + +"Had he heard--did you tell him then or afterwards what happened +in New York on that very date?" + +"No, no, we have not told him. It would have killed him--and may +yet." + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +Sweetwater allowed himself one minute of thought, then he earnestly +replied: + +"I will keep your secret for to-day, and longer, if possible." + +"Thank you," she cried; "thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your +face." And she again prepared to close the door. + +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?" + +"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." + +"Edith! Edith!" rose in ceaseless reiteration from within. + +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. + +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. + + + +XXIV + +SUSPENSE + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +XXV + +THE OVAL HUT + + +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. + +His first word, therefore, was a plain announcement. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"That I see; but if I knew when I might speak--" + +"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." + +Sweetwater muttered his thanks and rose. Then he slowly sat down +again. + +"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?" + +The doctor did not need to speak; his expression conveyed his answer. + +"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." + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +XXVI + +SWEETWATER RETURNS + + +"You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday's intrusion +has not prejudiced you against me." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"There is but one story to tell," she smiled, and her head drooped +softly, but with no air of self-consciousness. + +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." + +"O yes, O yes." + +"More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your +very looks show that." + +"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." + +"And a friend of Mr. Brotherson," supplemented Sweetwater. + +"Yes," she smiled, "he would want me to say so. But that's his +goodness. I don't deserve the honour." + +"His friend and therefore his confidante," Sweetwater continued. +"He has talked to you about Miss Challoner?" + +"He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, +I had seen her and could understand." + +"Where did you see her?" + +"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." + +"That was some time ago?" + +"We were there in June." + +"And you have corresponded ever since with Miss Challoner?" + +"She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times +to answer her." + +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: + +"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." + +She was vehement, instantly vehement, in her disclaimer. + +"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." + +Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner's last letter, and wished he +had it here to give her. In default of this, he said: + +"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." + +Her eyes filled. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Tell me about it." + +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. + +"A meagre haul," he remarked at the close. + +"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." + +"As prejudiced as a bulldog." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small +comfort can I carry him." + + + +XXVII + +THE IMAGE OF DREAD + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Who is that, Johnny?" she asked. "You know everybody who comes to +town. What is the name of the gentleman you see coming?" + +The boy looked, searched his memory, not without some show of +misgiving. + +"A queer name," he admitted at last. "I never heard the likes of it +here before. Shally something. Shally--Shally--" + +"Challoner?" + +"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." + +"Well, never mind. Run on, Johnny. And don't forget to come +earlier to-morrow; Mr. Brotherson gets tired waiting." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +"Doris, come here, sweet child. I want you." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +Surprised now by something not quite natural in her manner, he caught +at her hand and held her as she was moving away. + +"You are tired," said he. "I've wearied you with my commission and +complaints. Forgive me, dear child, and--" + +"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?" + +"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." + +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! + +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. + +"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." + +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-- + +Unconsciously the young head drooped, and the pen slid from her hand. + +"I cannot," she murmured, "I cannot think what to say." + +"Shall I help you?" came softly from the bed. "I'll try and not +forget that it is Doris writing." + +"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." + +"Write then. 'Dear Miss Challoner!" + +"I have already written that." + +"Why do you shudder?" + +"I'm cold. I've been cold all day. But never mind that, Mr. +Brotherson. Tell me how to begin my letter." + +"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?" + +"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. + +"Well, leave out the fretful if you must, but keep in the exacting. +I have been exacting, you know." + +Silence, broken only by the scratching of the stubborn, +illy-directed pen. + +"It's down," she whispered. She said, afterward, that it was like +writing with a ghost looking over one's shoulder. + +"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?" + +"No, no, I can follow." + +"But not without losing breath; eh, Doris?" + +As he laughed, she smiled. There was a heroism in that smile, +Oswald Brotherson, of which you knew nothing. + +"You might speak a little more slowly," she admitted. + +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!" + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +"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. + +"You will mail it yourself?" he asked. "I should like to have you +put it into the box with your own hand." + +"I will put it in to-night, after supper," she promised him. + +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. + + + +XXVIII + +I HOPE NEVER TO SEE THAT MAN + + +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. + +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. + +"Miss Scott?" he asked. + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner." + +"You know me?" he went on, one foot on the step and one still on +the walk. + +Before replying she closed the door behind her. Then as she noted +his surprise she carefully explained: + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +She gave him one quick look, trembling so that he offered her his +arm with a fatherly air. + +"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." + +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. + +"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. + +"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." + +Doris turned her candid eyes upon him. + +"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." + +"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." + +Doris trembled. + +"It was not suicide," she declared, vehemently. "I have always +felt sure that it was not; but to-day I KNOW." + +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? + +"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?" + +"No, not at all," he assured her. "Expect me at eight. Will that +be too early?" + +"No, no. Oh, how those people stared! Let us hasten back or they +may connect your name with what we want kept secret." + +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. + +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. + +"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--" + +"Sure of what, Miss Scott?" + +She gave a glance at the door before stepping up nearer. He had not +taken the chair she preferred. + +"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. + +"A dream, Miss Scott?" He tried to hide his disappointment. + +"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." + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +"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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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!" + +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. + +Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention, he waited +till her eyes met his, then quietly asked: + +"Have you ever named this man to yourself?" + +She started and dropped her eyes. + +"I do not dare to," said she. + +"Why?" + +"Because I've read in the papers that the man who stood there had +the same name as--" + +"Tell me, Miss Scott." + +"As Mr. Brotherson's brother." + +"But you do not think it was his brother?" + +"I do not know." + +"You've never seen his brother?" + +"Never." + +"Nor his picture?" + +"No, Mr. Brotherson has none." + +"Aren't they friends? Does he never mention Orlando?" + +"Very, very rarely. But I've no reason to think they are not on +good terms. I know they correspond." + +"Miss Scott?" + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner." + +"You must not rely too much upon your dream." + +Her eyes flashed to his and then fell again. + +"Dreams are not revelations; they are the reproduction of what +already lies hidden in the mind. I can prove that your dream is +such." + +"How?" She looked startled. + +"You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you +think of a pistol." + +"Yes, I was looking directly into it." + +"But my daughter was not shot. She died from a stab." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"Who is it?" she asked. "Father's in and visitors seldom come so +late." + +"Shall I see?" + +She nodded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, +revealing the tall, strong figure of a man facing them from the +porch. + +"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: + +"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!" + + + +XXIX + +DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER + + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +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: + +"Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, +Miss Scott. Will you let me come in now?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Then I'm not to see him to-night?" + +"I pray you to wait. He's--he's been a very sick man." + +"Dangerously so?" + +"Yes." + +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. + +"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." + +She shook her head. "I know very little about business," said she. + +"My brother has not told you why he expected me?" + +"He has not even told me that he expected you." + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"My brother?" he asked. + +"Yes," came in faltering reply. "He has heard our voices; I must +go to him." + +"Say that Orlando wishes him a good night," smiled her heart's +enemy, with a bow of infinite grace. + +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. + +"I will accompany you into the hall," said he. "Then if anything +is wrong, you have but to speak my name." + +But Orlando Brotherson, displeased by this move, took a step which +brought him between the two. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +But the question finally came. + +"Mr. Challoner, do you know my brother?" + +"I have never seen him." + +"Do you know him? Does he know you?" + +"Not at all. We are strangers." + +It was said honestly. They did not know each other. Mr. Challoner +was quite correct in his statement. + +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. + +He, therefore, allowed himself to press the question: + +"Men sometimes correspond who do not know each other. You knew +that a Brotherson lived here?" + +"Yes." + +"And hoped to learn something about me?" + +"No; my interest was solely with your brother." + +"With my brother? With Oswald? What interest can you have in him +apart from me? Oswald is--" + +Suddenly a thought name--an unimaginable one; one with power to +blanch even his hardy cheek and shake a soul unassailable by all +small emotions. + +"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." + +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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"That is fortunate for me," was the courteous reply. + +But Orlando Brotherson was not himself, not at all himself as he +bowed a formal adieu and 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. + + + +XXX + +CHAOS + + +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. + +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: + +"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?" + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"You see me again, Mr. Challoner. May I beg of you a few minutes' +further conversation? I will not detain you long." + +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. + +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. + +"What do you wish to ask?" was Mr. Challoner's immediate inquiry. + +"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?" + +"No." + +"She was acquainted with Oswald Brotherson?" + +"She was." + +"Without your knowledge?" + +"Entirely so." + +"Corresponded with him?" + +"Not exactly." + +"How, not exactly?" + +"He wrote to her--occasionally. She wrote to him frequently--but +she never sent her letters." + +"Ah!" + +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. + +"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?" + +"I know it." + +"And that is why I found you in the same house with him." + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I am not given to exaggeration," was the even reply. + +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. + +"You have still something to say," suggested the latter, as an +oppressive silence swallowed up that icy sentence I have already +recorded. + +"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." + +"You mean--" + +"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. + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Unhappy truths cannot be long concealed. How soon does the doctor +think my brother can bear these inevitable revelations?" + +"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." + +Orlando bowed his appreciation of this fact, but added quickly: + +"Who is to do the telling?" + +"Doris. Nobody else could be trusted with so delicate a task." + +"I wish to be present." + +Mr. Challoner looked up, surprised at the feeling with which this +request was charged. + +"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?" + +"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." + +"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." + +The hand on the door-knob made a sudden movement. + +"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. + +Orlando watched him till the door closed, then he too dropped his +mask. + +But it was on again, when in a little while he passed through the +sitting-room on his way upstairs. + +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. + + + +XXXI + +WHAT IS HE MAKING + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"You see I am here," was the stranger's low greeting. + +"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?" + +"I stopped at her door." + +"Was that safe?" + +"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." + +"What is he making?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"May Heaven help your efforts!" + +"I shall need its assistance," was the dry rejoinder. Sweetwater +was by no means blind to the difficulties awaiting him. + + + +XXXII + +TELL ME, TELL IT ALL + + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"What is the matter, child? So weary, eh? Nothing worse than that, +I hope." + +"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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +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. + +"Dead!" he shrieked out, and fell back fainting in his chair, his +lips still murmuring in semi-unconsciousness, "Dead! dead!" + +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! + +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. + +"Doris?" + +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. + +"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: + +"How long?" + +She answered them as simply. + +"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." + +"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!" + +"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--" + +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." + +And Doris told him: + +"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." + +"Edith? never!" + +The words were chokingly said; he was swaying, almost falling, but +he steadied himself. + +"Who says that?" he asked. + +"It was the coroner's verdict." + +"And she died that way--died?" + +"Immediately." + +"After writing to you?" + +"Yes." + +"What was in that letter?" + +"Nothing of threat, they say. Only just cheer and expressions of +hope. Just like the others, Mr. Brotherson." + +"And they accuse her of taking her own life? Their verdict is a +lie. They did not know her." + +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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Do they know of--of my interest in this?" + +"Yes; they know about the two O. B.s." + +"The two--" He was on his feet again, but only for a moment; his +weakness was greater than his will power. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"He met her at Lenox." + +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: + +"Yes, yes, I remember. I sent him there--" and paused, his mind +blank again. + +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. + +"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." + +"He did not know them." + +A laugh; a laugh which paled Doris' cheek; then his tones grew even +again, memory came back and he muttered faintly: + +"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." + +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." + +"He wrote her a letter; it frightened her. He followed it up by a +visit--" + +Doris paused; the sentence hung suspended. She had heard a step +--a hand on the door. + +Orlando had entered the room. + + + +XXXIII + +ALONE + + +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: + +"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." + +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: + +"Speak! I am bound to listen; you are my brother." + +Orlando turned towards Doris. She was slipping away. + +"Don't go," said he. + +But she was gone. + +Slowly he turned back. + +Oswald raised his hand and checked the words with which he would +have begun his story. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"And what?" + +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. + +"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." + +"Edith?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"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." + +But of all this Oswald had caught but the one word. + +"Chance?" he repeated. "Orlando, I believe in God." + +"Then seek your comfort there. I find it in harnessing the winds; +in forcing the powers of nature to do my bidding." + +The other did not speak, and the silence grew heavy. It was broken, +when it was broken, by a cry from Oswald: + +"No more," said he, "no more." Then, in a yearning accent, "Send +Doris to me." + +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. + +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. + +Alone! + +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! + +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. + +He could wait for that hour. He had measured the gulf before him +and found it passable. Henceforth no looking back. + +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. + +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? + +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. + + + +XXXIV + +THE HUT CHANGES ITS NAME + + +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. + +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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +"Edith's father! Doris, it cannot be. Edith's father!" + +"Yes, Mr. Challoner has been in Derby for the last two weeks. He +has only one interest now; to see you well again." + +"Why?" + +Doris caught the note of pain, if not suspicion, in this query, and +smiled as she asked in turn: + +"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." + +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: + +"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." + +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. + +"Doris says that you have shown me this kindness from the desire +you have to see me well again Mr. Challoner. Is this true?" + +"Very true. I cannot emphasise the fact too strongly." + +Oswald's eyes met his again, this time with great earnestness. + +"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?" + +It was for Mr. Challoner's voice to tremble now, as reaching out +his hand, he declared, with unmistakable feeling: + +"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." + +Startled and deeply moved, the young man stretched out a shaking +hand towards his visitor, with the feeble but exulting cry: + +"Then you do not blame me for her wretched and mysterious death. +You hold me guiltless of the misery which nerved her despairing arm?" + +"Quite guiltless." + +Oswald's wan and pinched features took on a beautiful expression +and Mr. Challoner no longer wondered at his daughter's choice. + +"Thank God!" fell from the sick man's lips, and then there was a +silence during which their two hands met. + +It was some minutes before either spoke and then it was Oswald +who said: + +"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. + +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. + +The cause became apparent as soon as he spoke. + +"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." + +"He does not know all our reasons for distrust. He has heard +nothing about the poor washerwoman." + +"No, and he must not,--not for weeks. He has borne all that he can." + +"His confidence in his older brother is sublime. I do not share it; +but I cannot help but respect him for it." + +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. + +"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." + +Doris' large eyes burned with a weird light upon his face. + +"He has not had my dream," she murmured, with all the quiet of an +unmoved conviction. + +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. + +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: + +"Oswald, what is your idea about what I'm making up there?" + +"That it will be a success." + +"I know; but its character, its use? What do you think it is?" + +"I've an idea; but my idea don't fit the conditions." + +"How's that?" + +"The shed is too closely hemmed in. You haven't room--" + +"For what?" + +"To start an aeroplane." + +"Yet it is certainly a device for flying." + +"I supposed so; but--" + +"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." + +"Orlando!" + +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. + +"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." + +"Have you such pride as that?" + +"Precisely." + +"So much that you cannot face failure?" + +"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." + +"You want me to ascend with you?" + +"Exactly." + +"At the end of three days?" + +"Yes." + +"Orlando, I cannot." + +"You cannot? Not strong enough yet? I'll wait then,--three days +more." + +"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." + +Orlando, balked thus at the outset, showed his displeasure. + +"You do not do justice to your will. It is strong enough to carry +you through anything." + +"It was." + +"You can force it to act for you." + +"I fear not, Orlando." + +"I counted on you and you thwart me at the most critical moment of +my life." + +Oswald smiled; his whole candid and generous nature bursting into +view, in one quick flash. + +"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." + +"Do you know such a man?" + +"I don't; but there must be many such among our workmen." + +"There isn't one; and I haven't time to send to Brooklyn. I +reckoned on you." + +"Can you wait a month?" + +"No." + +"A fortnight, then?" + +"No, not ten days." + +Oswald looked surprised. He would like to have asked why such +precipitation was necessary, but their 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. + +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--" + +He did not need to continue. Oswald understood and flashed a +grateful look his way before saying: + +"You will make the attempt at night?" + +"Certainly." + +"And on Saturday?" + +"I've said it." + +"I will run over in my mind the qualifications of such men as I +know and acquaint you with the result to-morrow." + +"There are adjustments to be made. A man of accuracy is necessary." + +"I will remember." + +"And he must be likable. I can do nothing with a man with whom I'm +not perfectly in accord." + +"I understand that." + +"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." + +And with a proud smile in which flashed a significance which +startled Oswald, he gave a hurried nod and turned away. + +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. + + + +XXXV + +SILENCE--AND A KNOCK + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Who's there?" he asked, imperiously and with some show of anger. + +No answer, but another quiet knock. + +"Speak! or go from my door. No one has the right to intrude here. +What is your name and business?" + +Continued knocking--nothing more. + +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. + +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. + +Stepping to the wall, he drew that cord, then with an impatient +sigh, returned to the door. + +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. + +"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. + +A final knock. + +Pulling a pistol from his pocket, with his left hand, he turned +the key with his right. + +The door remained unopened. + +Stepping slowly back, he stared at its unpainted boards for a +moment, then he spoke up quietly, almost courteously: + +"Enter." + +But the command passed unheeded; the latch was not raised, and only +the slightest tap was heard. + +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. + +The man confronting him from the darkness was Sweetwater. + + + +XXXV + +THE MAN WITHIN AND THE MAN WITHOUT + + +An instant of silence, during which the two men eyed each other; +then, Sweetwater, with an ironical smile directed towards the +pistol lightly remarked: + +"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." + +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: + +"How long have you been in town?" + +The answer cut clean through any lingering hope he may have had. + +"Ever since the day your brother was told the story of his great +misfortune." + +"Ah! still at your old tricks! I thought you had quit that +business as unprofitable." + +"I don't know. I never expect quick returns. He who holds on for +a rise sometimes reaps unlooked-for profits." + +The arm and fist of Orlando Brotherson ached to hurl this fellow +back into the heart of the midnight woods. + +But they remained quiescent and he spoke instead. "I have buried +the business. You will never resuscitate it through me." + +Sweetwater smiled. There was no mirth in his smile though there +was lightness in his tone as said: + +"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?" + +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. + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +"Explain the device." + +"I will draw it." + +"You can?" + +"As I see it." + +"As you see it!" + +"Yes. It's a brilliant idea; I could never have conceived it." + +"You believe--" + +"I know." + +"Sit here. Let's see what you know." + +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. + +"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?" + +Brotherson looked and hastily drew back. He did not want the other +to note his surprise. + +"But that is a portion you never saw," he loudly declared. + +"No, but I saw this," returned Sweetwater, working busily on some +curves; "and these gave me the fillip I mentioned. The rest came +easily." + +Brotherson, in dread of his own anger, threw his pistol to the other +end of the shed: + +"You knave! You thief!" he furiously cried. + +"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." + +"For how many people have you drawn those lines?" thundered the +inexorable voice. + +"For nobody; not for myself even. This is the first time they have +left their hiding-place in my brain." + +"Can you swear to that?" + +"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. + +"And what surety have I that you do not consider this very matter +of mine as coming within the bounds you speak of?" + +"None. But you must trust me that far." + +Brotherson surveyed him with an irony which conveyed a very +different message to the detective than any he had intended. Then +quickly: + +"To how many have you spoken, dilating upon this device, and +publishing abroad my secret?" + +"I have spoken to no one, not even to Mr. Gryce. That shows my +honesty as nothing else can." + +"You have kept my secret intact?" + +"Entirely so, sir." + +"So that no one, here or elsewhere, shares our knowledge of the new +points in this mechanism?" + +"I say so, sir." + +"Then if I should kill you," came in ferocious accents, "now +--here--" + +"You would be the only one to own that knowledge. But you won't +kill me." + +"Why?" + +"Need I go into reasons?" + +"Why? I say." + +"Because your conscience is already too heavily laden to bear the +burden of another unprovoked crime." + +Brotherson, starting back, glared with open ferocity upon the man +who dared to face him with such an accusation. + +"God! why didn't I shoot you on entrance!" he cried. "Your courage +is certainly colossal." + +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: + +"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?" + +"I sincerely do." + +"You consider yourself competent?" + +"I do." + +Brotherson's eyes fell and he walked once to the extremity of the +oval flooring and back. + +"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?" + +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: + +"No! I'll not--" and paused, caught by a new and irresistible +sensation. + +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. + +"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." + +"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. + +Coming from the shadows, he laid his hand on the cord regulating +the rise and fall of the concealing curtain. + +"Here she is!" he cried and drew the cord. + +The canvas shook, gathered itself into great folds and disappeared +in the shadows from which he had just stepped. + +The air-car stood revealed--a startling, because wholly unique, +vision. + +Long did Sweetwater survey it, then turning with beaming face upon +the watchful inventor, he uttered a loud Hurrah. + +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. + + +XXXVII + +HIS GREAT HOUR + +Saturday night at eight o'clock. + +So the fiat had gone forth, with no concession to be made on account +of weather. + +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. + +If the tempest should come up before eight! + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Suddenly Mr. Challoner spoke. + +"Who is the man whom Mr. Brotherson has asked to go up with him?" + +It was Oswald who answered. + +"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." + +"Such reticence seems unpardonable. You have--displayed great +patience, Oswald." + +"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." + +"You have confidence then in the success of this undertaking?" + +"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." + +"I don't understand." + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +But Oswald did not seem satisfied. He continued to look at her in +vague concern. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Will he dare? Will he dare?" whispered Doris, and Oswald answered, +though it seemed next to impossible that he could have heard her: + +"He will dare. But will he survive it? Mr. Challoner," he suddenly +shouted in that gentleman's ear, "what time is it now?" + +Mr. Challoner, disengaging himself from their mutual grasp, knelt +down by the lantern to consult his watch. + +"One minute to eight," he shouted back. + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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? + +And the wind! Surely it must toss that aerial messenger before +it and fling it back to earth, a broken and despised toy. + +"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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +"Let me in!" he cried. "You've done the trick, Orlando, you've +done the trick." + +"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. + +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. + +As Oswald bounded towards him, he reached out his hand, but his +glance was for Doris. + +"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--" + +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-- + +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. + + + +XXXVIII + +NIGHT + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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!" + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A man stood directly in his way, as he made for the front door. +It was Mr. Challoner. + +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: + +"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." + +The older gentleman hesitated, seeking possibly for composure, +and when he answered it was not only without irony but with a +certain forced respect: + +"Mr. Sweetwater has just left for New York, Mr. Brotherson. He +will carry with him, no doubt, the full particulars of your great +success." + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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--" + +"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--" + +Orlando frowned. + +"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.'" + +But the hand he reached for did not rise at his command, though +Oswald started erect and faced him with manly earnestness. + +"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." + +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: + +"Did you love Edith Challoner so much as that?" + +A glance from Oswald's eye, sadder than any tear. + +"So that you cannot be reconciled?" + +A gesture. Oswald's words were always few. + +Orlando's frown deepened. + +"Such grief I partly understand," said he. "But time will cure it. +Some day another lovely face--" + +"We'll not talk of that, Orlando." + +"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." + +"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." + +"Then you do blame me?" Orlando turned and was looking full at +Oswald. + +"I blame your unreasonableness and your overweening pride." + +Orlando stood a moment, then moved towards the door. The heaviness +of his step smote upon Oswald's ear and caused him to exclaim: + +"Forgive me, Orlando." But the other cut him short with an +imperative: + +"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. + +No heartfelt understanding was possible between these two men. + +Crossing the hall, Orlando knocked at the door of Doris' little +sitting-room. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +"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." + +"Impossible," she murmured. + +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: + +"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. + +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. + +Around him in the forest, the night owls screeched and innumerable +small things without a name, skurried from lair to lair. + +He heard them not. + +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. + +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. + +He had crossed the Rubicon of this world's hopes and fears, but he +had been unconscious of the passage. + + + +XXXIX + +THE AVENGER + + + "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." + +Mr. Challoner had been called upon to face many difficult and +heartrending duties since the blow which had desolated his home +fell upon him. + +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. + +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: + +"Are we alone, Mr. Challoner, or is that man Sweetwater lurking +somewhere within hearing?" + +"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." + +"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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +"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. + +Mr. Brotherson took a step forward. His manner was as cold as the +heart which lay like a stone in his bosom. + +"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." + +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. + +"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." + +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. + +Brotherson went coldly on: + +"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." + +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: + +"There was another--a poor woman--she died suddenly--and her +wound was not unlike that inflicted upon Edith. Did you--" + +"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--" + +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. + +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. + +Orlando could scarcely raise his hand before the other's was upon +his throat. + +"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!" + + +XL + +DESOLATE + + +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. + +"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." + +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-- + +Impetuously Oswald struggled with his weakness, raised himself in +Mr. Challoner's arms and cried in loud revolt: + +"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." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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. + +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." + +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. + +"I cannot," said he--"not even the left one. May God forgive me!" + +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. + +"Where are you going?" he demanded in tones which made Orlando turn. + +"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." + +"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--" + +"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." + +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. + +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. + + + +XLI + +FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING + + +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?" + +Four o'clock! The light was still burning, the pile of letters he +was writing increasing. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +XLI + +AT SIX + + +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. + +"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!" + +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. + +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: + +"I do not know why you have come back, but never was man more +welcome. Mr. Brotherson has confessed." + +"Confessed!" + +"Yes, he killed both women; my daughter and his neighbour, the +washerwoman, with a--" + +"Wait," broke in Sweetwater, eagerly, "let me tell you." And +stooping, he whispered something in the other's ear. + +Mr. Challoner stared at him amazed, then slowly nodded his head. + +"How came you to think--" he began; but Sweetwater in his great +anxiety interrupted him with a quick: + +"Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? +Where is he? That's the important thing now." + +"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?" + +"In his hangar in the woods. Where else would he go to--" + +"I have thought of that. Shall we start out alone or take witnesses +with us?" + +"We will go alone. Does Oswald anticipate--" + +"He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in +there. Doris and her father are with him." + +"We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it +will hold off for another hour." + +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. + +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. + +A murmur of dismay greeted him. The oval of that great lid stood +up against the forest background. + +"He has escaped," cried Mr. Challoner. + +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! + +The two men drew back and their glances crossed. + +"Let us return to the highroad," whispered Sweetwater; "we can see +nothing here." + +Mr. Challoner, trembling very much, wheeled slowly about. + +"Wait," enjoined Sweetwater. "First let me take a look inside." + +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. + +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." + +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: + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +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: + +"Take them away! I saw him; he was falling like a shot." + +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. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Initials Only, by Anna Katharine Green + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INITIALS ONLY *** + +This file should be named ionly11.txt or ionly11.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ionly11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ionly10a.txt + +This Project Gutenberg Etext produced by an anonymous volunteer. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/ionly11.zip b/old/ionly11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2caf218 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ionly11.zip |