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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. 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