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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2861-0.txt b/2861-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c1b796 --- /dev/null +++ b/2861-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10171 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by +Melville Davisson Post + +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: The Sleuth of St. James's Square + +Author: Melville Davisson Post + +Posting Date: January 2, 2009 [EBook #2861] +Release Date: October, 2001 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer + + + + + +THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE + +By Melville Davisson Post + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE THING ON THE HEARTH + +II. THE REWARD + +III. THE LOST LADY + +IV. THE CAMBERED FOOT + +V. THE MAN IN THE GREEN HAT + +VI. THE WRONG SIGN + +VII. THE FORTUNE TELLER + +VIII. THE HOLE IN THE MAHOGANY PANEL + +IX. THE END OF THE ROAD + +X. THE LAST ADVENTURE + +XI. AMERICAN HORSES + +XII. THE SPREAD RAILS + +XIII. THE PUMPKIN COACH + +XIV. THE YELLOW FLOWER + +XV. A SATIRE OF THE SEA + +XVI. THE HOUSE BY THE LOCH + + + + + +The SLEUTH of St. JAMES'S SQUARE + + + + +I. The Thing on the Hearth + + +“THE first confirmatory evidence of the thing, Excellency, was the print +of a woman's bare foot.” + +He was an immense creature. He sat in an upright chair that seemed to +have been provided especially for him. The great bulk of him flowed out +and filled the chair. It did not seem to be fat that enveloped him. It +seemed rather to be some soft, tough fiber, like the pudgy mass making +up the body of a deep-sea thing. One got an impression of strength. + +The country was before the open window; the clusters of cultivated shrub +on the sweep of velvet lawn extending to the great wall that inclosed +the place, then the bend of the river and beyond the distant mountains, +blue and mysterious, blending indiscernibly into the sky. A soft sun, +clouded with the haze of autumn, shone over it. + +“You know how the faint moisture in the bare foot will make an +impression.” + +He paused as though there was some compelling force in the reflection. +It was impossible to say, with accuracy, to what race the man belonged. +He came from some queer blend of Eastern peoples. His body and the +cast of his features were Mongolian. But one got always, before him, a +feeling of the hot East lying low down against the stagnant Suez. One +felt that he had risen slowly into our world of hard air and sun out of +the vast sweltering ooze of it. + +He spoke English with a certain care in the selection of the words, but +with ease and an absence of effort, as though languages were instinctive +to him--as though he could speak any language. And he impressed one with +this same effortless facility in all the things he did. + +It is necessary to try to understand this, because it explains the +conception everybody got of the creature, when they saw him in charge of +Rodman. I am using precisely the descriptive words; he was exclusively +in charge of Rodman, as a jinn in an Arabian tale might have been in +charge of a king's son. + +The creature was servile--with almost a groveling servility. But one +felt that this servility resulted from something potent and secret. One +looked to see Rodman take Solomon's ring out of his waistcoat pocket. + +I suppose there is no longer any doubt about the fact that Rodman was +one of those gigantic human intelligences who sometimes appear in the +world, and by their immense conceptions dwarf all human knowledge--a +sort of mental monster that we feel nature has no right to produce. Lord +Bayless Truxley said that Rodman was some generations in advance of +the time; and Lord Bayless Truxley was, beyond question, the greatest +authority on synthetic chemistry in the world. + +Rodman was rich and, everybody supposed, indolent; no one ever thought +very much about him until he published his brochure on the scientific +manufacture of precious stones. Then instantly everybody with any +pretension to a knowledge of synthetic chemistry turned toward him. + +The brochure startled the world. + +It proposed to adapt the luster and beauty of jewels to commercial uses. +We were being content with crude imitation colors in our commercial +glass, when we could quite as easily have the actual structure and the +actual luster of the jewel in it. We were painfully hunting over the +earth, and in its bowels, for a few crystals and prettily colored stones +which we hoarded and treasured, when in a manufacturing laboratory we +could easily produce them, more perfect than nature, and in unlimited +quantity. + +Now, if you want to understand what I am printing here about Rodman, +you must think about this thing as a scientific possibility and not as +a fantastic notion. Take, for example, Rodman's address before the +Sorbonne, or his report to the International Congress of Science in +Edinburgh, and you will begin to see what I mean. The Marchese Giovanni, +who was a delegate to that congress, and Pastreaux, said that the +something in the way of an actual practical realization of what Rodman +outlined was the formulae. If Rodman could work out the formulae, +jewel-stuff could be produced as cheaply as glass, and in any +quantity--by the carload. Imagine it; sheet ruby, sheet emerald, all the +beauty and luster of jewels in the windows of the corner drugstore! + +And there is another thing that I want you to think about. Think about +the immense destruction of value--not to us, so greatly, for our stocks +of precious stones are not large; but the thing meant, practically, +wiping out all the assembled wealth of Asia except the actual earth and +its structures. + +The destruction of value was incredible. + +Put the thing some other way and consider it. Suppose we should suddenly +discover that pure gold could be produced by treating common yellow clay +with sulphuric acid, or that some genius should set up a machine on the +border of the Sahara that received sand at one end and turned out sacked +wheat at the other! What, then, would our hoarded gold be worth, or the +wheat-lands of Australia, Canada or our Northwest? + +The illustrations are fantastic. But the thing Rodman was after was a +practical fact. He had it on the way. Giovanni and Lord Bayless Truxley +were convinced that the man would work out the formulae. They tried, +over their signatures, to prepare the world for it. + +The whole of Asia was appalled. The rajahs of the native states in India +prepared a memorial and sent it to the British Government. + +The thing came out after the mysterious, incredible tragedy. I should +not have written that final sentence. I want you to think, just now, +about the great hulk of a man that sat in his big chair beyond me at the +window. + +It was like Rodman to turn up with an outlandish human creature +attending him hand and foot. How the thing came about reads like a lie; +it reads like a lie; the wildest lie that anybody ever put forward to +explain a big yellow Oriental following one about. + +But it was no lie. You could not think up a lie to equal the actual +things that happened to Rodman. Take the way he died!.... + +The thing began in India. Rodman had gone there to consult with the +Marchese Giovanni concerning some molecular theory that was involved in +his formulas. Giovanni was digging up a buried temple on the northern +border of the Punjab. One night, in the explorer's tent, near the +excavations, this inscrutable creature walked in on Rodman. No one knew +how he got into the tent or where he came from. + +Giovanni told about it. The tent-flap simply opened, and the big +Oriental appeared. He had something under his arm rolled up in a +prayer-carpet. He gave no attention to Giovanni, but he salaamed like a +coolie to the little American. + +“Master,” he said, “you were hard to find. I have looked over the world +for you.” + +And he squatted down on the dirty floor by Rodman's camp stool. + +Now, that's precisely the truth. I suppose any ordinary person would +have started no end of fuss. But not Rodman, and not, I think, Giovanni. +There's the attitude that we can't understand in a genius--did you ever +know a man with an inventive mind who doubted a miracle? A thing like +that did not seem unreasonable to Rodman. + +The two men spent the remainder of the night looking at the present that +the creature brought Rodman in his prayer-carpet. They wanted to know +where the Oriental got it, and that's how his story came out. + +He was something--searcher, seems our nearest English word to it--in +the great Shan Monastery on the southeastern plateau of the Gobi. He was +looking for Rodman because he had the light--here was another word that +the two men could find no term in any modern language to translate; a +little flame, was the literal meaning. + +The present was from the treasure-room of the monastery; the very carpet +around it, Giovanni said, was worth twenty thousand lire. There +was another thing that came out in the talk that Giovanni afterward +recalled. Rodman was to accept the present and the man who brought it to +him. The Oriental would protect him, in every way, in every direction, +from things visible and invisible. He made quite a speech about it. But, +there was one thing from which he could not protect him. + +The Oriental used a lot of his ancient words to explain, and he did not +get it very clear. He seemed to mean that the creative Forces of the +spirit would not tolerate a division of worship with the creative forces +of the body--the celibate notion in the monastic idea. + +Giovanni thought Rodman did not understand it; he thought he himself +understood it better. The monk was pledging Rodman to a high virtue, in +the lapse of which something awful was sure to happen. + +Giovanni wrote a letter to the State Department when he learned what had +happened to Rodman. The State Department turned it over to the court at +the trial. I think it was one of the things that influenced the judge +in his decision. Still, at the time, there seemed no other reasonable +decision to make. The testimony must have appeared incredible; it must +have appeared fantastic. No man reading the record could have come to +any other conclusion about it. Yet it seemed impossible--at least, it +seemed impossible for me--to consider this great vital bulk of a man as +a monk of one of the oldest religious orders in the world. Every common, +academic conception of such a monk he distinctly negatived. He +impressed me, instead, as possessing the ultimate qualities of clever +diplomacy--the subtle ambassador of some new Oriental power, shrewd, +suave, accomplished. + +When one read the yellow-backed court-record, the sense of old, obscure, +mysterious agencies moving in sinister menace, invisibly, around Rodman +could not be escaped from. You believed it. Against your reason, against +all modern experience of life, you believed it. + +And yet it could not be true! One had to find that verdict or topple +over all human knowledge--that is, all human knowledge as we understand +it. The judge, cutting short the criminal trial, took the only way out +of the thing. + +There was one man in the world that everybody wished could have been +present at the time. That was Sir Henry Marquis. Marquis was chief of +the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. He had been in +charge of the English secret service on the frontier of the Shan states, +and at the time he was in Asia. + +As soon as Scotland Yard could release Sir Henry, it sent him. Rodman's +genius was the common property of the world. The American Government +could not, even with the verdict of a trial court, let Rodman's death go +by under the smoke-screen of such a weird, inscrutable mystery. + +I was to meet Sir Henry and come here with him. But my train into New +England was delayed, and when I arrived at the station, I found that +Marquis had gone down to have a look at Rodman's country-house, where +the thing had happened. + +It was on an isolated forest ridge of the Berkshires, no human soul +within a dozen miles of it--a comfortable stone house in the English +fashion. There was a big drawing-room across one end of it, with an +immense fireplace framed in black marble under a great white panel to +the ceiling. It had a wide black-marble hearth. There is an excellent +photograph of it in the record, showing the single andiron, that +mysterious andiron upon which the whole tragedy seemed to turn as on a +hinge. + +Rodman used this drawing-room for a workshop. He kept it close-shuttered +and locked. Not even this big, yellow, servile creature who took +exclusive care of him in the house was allowed to enter, except under +Rodman's eye. What he saw in the final scenes of the tragedy, he saw +looking in through a crack under the door. The earlier things he noticed +when he put logs on the fire at dark. + +Time is hardly a measure for the activities of the mind. These +reflections winged by in a scarcely perceptible interval of it. They +have taken me some time to write out here, but they crowded past while +the big Oriental was speaking--in the pause between his words. + +“The print,” he continued, “was the first confirmation of evidence, +but it was not the first indicatory sign. I doubt if the Master himself +noticed the thing at the beginning. The seductions of this disaster +could not have come quickly; and besides that, Excellency, the agencies +behind the material world get a footing in it only with continuous +pressure. Do not receive a wrong impression, Excellency; to the eye a +thing will suddenly appear, but the invisible pressure will have been +for some time behind that materialization.” + +He paused. + +“The Master was sunk in his labor, and while that enveloped him, the +first advances of the lure would have gone by unnoticed--and the tension +of the pressure. But the day was at hand when the Master was receptive. +He had got his work completed; the formula, penciled out, were on his +table. I knew by the relaxation. Of all periods this is the one most +dangerous to the human spirit.” + +He sat silent for a moment, his big fingers moving on the arms of the +chair. + +“I knew,” he added. Then he went on: “But it was the one thing against +which I could not protect him. The test was to be permitted.” + +He made a vague gesture. + +“The Master was indicated--but the peril antecedent to his elevation +remained.... It was to be permitted, and at its leisure and in its +choice of time.” + +He turned sharply toward me, the folds of his face unsteady. + +“Excellency!” he cried. “I would have saved the Master, I would have +saved him with my soul's damnation, but it was not permitted. On that +first night in the Italian's tent I said all I could.” + +His voice went into a higher note. + +“Twice, for the Master, I have been checked and reduced in merit. For +that bias I was myself encircled. I was in an agony of spirit when I +knew that the thing was beginning to advance, but my very will to aid +was at the time environed.” + +His voice descended. + +He sat motionless, as though the whole bulk of him were devitalized, and +maintained its outline only by the inclosing frame of the chair. + +“It began, Excellency, on an August night. There is a chill in these +mountains at sunset. I had put wood into the fireplace, and lighted it, +and was about the house. The Master, as I have said, had worked out +his formulae. He was at leisure. I could not see him, for the door was +closed, but the odor of his cigar escaped from the room. It was very +silent. I was placing the Master's bed-candle on the table in the +hall, when I heard his voice.... You have read it, Excellency, as the +scriveners wrote it down before the judge.” + +He paused. + +“It was an exclamation of surprise, of astonishment. Then I heard +the Master get up softly and go over to the fireplace... Presently he +returned. He got a new cigar, Excellency, clipped it and lighted it. I +could hear the blade of the knife on the fiber of the tobacco, and of +course, clearly the rasp of the match. A moment later I knew that he was +in the chair again. The odor of ignited tobacco returned. It was some +time before there was another sound in the room; then suddenly I +heard the Master swear. His voice was sharp and astonished. This time, +Excellency, he got up swiftly and crossed the room to the fireplace... I +could hear him distinctly. There was the sound of one tapping on metal, +thumping it, as with the fingers.” + +He stopped again, for a brief moment, as in reflection. + +“It was then that the Master unlocked the door and asked for the +liquor.” He indicated the court record in my pocket. “I brought it, a +goblet of brandy, with some carbonated water. He drank it all without +putting down the glass.... His face was strange, Excellency.... Then he +looked at me. + +“'Put a log on the fire,' he said. + +“I went in and added wood to the fire and came out. + +“The Master remained in the doorway; he reentered when I came out, and +closed the door behind him.... There was a long silence after that; them +I heard the voice, permitted to the devocation thin, metallic, offering +the barter to the Master. It began and ceased because the Master was +on his feet and before the fireplace. I heard him swear again, and +presently return to his place by the table.” + +The big Oriental lifted his face and looked out at the sweep of country +before the window. + +“The thing went on, Excellency, the voice offering its lure, and +presenting it in brief flashes of materialization, and the Master +endeavoring to seize and detain the visitations, which ceased instantly +at his approach to the hearth.” + +The man paused. + +“I knew the Master contended in vain against the thing; if he would +acquire possession of what it offered, he must destroy what the creative +forces of the spirit had released to him.” + +Again he paused. + +“Toward morning he went out of the house. I could hear him walking on +the gravel before the door. He would walk the full length of the house +and return. The night was clear; there was a chill in it, and every +sound was audible. + +“That was all, Excellency. The Master returned a little later and +ascended to his bedroom as usual.” + +Then he added: + +“It was when I went in to put wood on the fire that I saw the footprint +on the hearth.” + +There was a force, compelling and vivid, in these meager details, the +severe suppression of things, big and tragic. No elaboration could have +equaled, in effect, the virtue of this restraint. + +The man was going on, directly, with the story. + +“The following night, Excellency, the thing happened. The Master had +passed the day in the open. He dined with a good appetite, like a man in +health. And there was a change in his demeanor. He had the aspect of men +who are determined to have a thing out at any hazard. + +“After his dinner the Master went into the drawing-room and closed the +door behind him. He had not entered the room on this day. It had stood +locked and close-shuttered!” + +The big Oriental paused and made a gesture outward with his fingers, as +of one dismissing an absurdity. + +“No living human being could have been concealed in that room. There +is only the bare floor, the Master's table and the fireplace. The great +wood shutters were bolted in, as they had stood since the Master took +the room for a workshop and removed the furniture. The door was always +locked with that special thief-proof lock that the American smiths had +made for it. No one could have entered.” + +It was the report of the experts at the trial. They showed by the casing +of rust on the bolts that the shutters had not been moved; the walls, +ceiling and floor were undisturbed; the throat of the chimney was coated +evenly with old soot. Only the door was possible as an entry, and this +was always locked except when Rodman was himself in the room. And at +such times the big Oriental never left his post in the hall before it. +That seemed a condition of his mysterious overcare of Rodman. + +Everybody thought the trial court went to an excessive care. It +scrutinized in minute detail every avenue that could possibly lead to +a solution of the mystery. The whole country and every resident was +inquisitioned. The conclusion was inevitable. There was no human +creature on that forest crest of the Berkshires but Rodman and his +servant. + +But one can see why the trial judge kept at the thing; he was seeking an +explanation consistent with the common experience of mankind. And when +he could not find it, he did the only thing he could do. He was wrong, +as we now know. But he had a hold in the dark on the truth--not the +whole truth by any means; he never had a glimmer of that. He never had +the faintest conception of the big, amazing truth. But as I have said, +he had his fingers on one essential fact. + +The man was going on with a slow, precise articulation as though he +would thereby make a difficult matter clear. + +“The night had fallen swiftly. It was incredibly silent. There was no +sound in the Master's room, and no light except the flicker of the logs +smoldering in the fireplace. The thin line of it appeared faintly along +the sill of the door.” + +He paused. + +“The fireplace, Excellency, is at the end of the great room, directly +opposite this door into the hall, before which I always sat when the +Master was within. The fireplace is of black marble with an immense +black-marble hearth. And the gift which I had brought the Master stands +on one side of the fire, on this marble hearth, as though it were a +single andiron.” + +The man turned back into the heart of his story. + +“I knew by the vague sense of pressure that the devocations of the +thing were again on the way. And I began to suffer in the spirit for the +Master's safety. Interference, both by act and by the will, were denied +me. But there is an anxiety of spirit, Excellency, that the uncertainty +of an issue makes intolerable.” + +The man paused. + +“The pressure continued--and the silence. It was nearly midnight. I +could not distinguish any act or motion of the Master, and in fear +I crept over to the door and looked in through the crevice along the +threshold. + +“The Master sat by his table; he was straining forward, his hands +gripping the arms of his chair. His eyes and every tense instinct of the +man were concentrated on the fireplace. The red light of the embers was +in the room. I could see him clearly, and the table beyond him with the +calculations; but the fireplace seemed strangely out of perspective--it +extended above me. + +“My gift to the Master, not more than four handbreaths in length, +including the base, stood now like an immense bronze on an extended +marble slab beside a gigantic fireplace. This effect of extension put +the top of the fireplace and the enlarged andiron, above its pedestal, +out of my line of vision. Everything else in the chamber, holding its +normal dimensions, was visible to me. + +“The Master's face was a little lifted. He was looking at the elevated +portions of the andiron which were invisible to me. He did not move. The +steady light threw half of his face into shadow. But in the other half +every feature stood out sharply as in a delicate etching. It had that +refined sharpness and distinction which intense moments of stress stamp +on the human face. He did not move, and there was no sound. + +“I have said, Excellency, that my angle of vision along the crevice of +the doorsill was sharply cut midway of this now enlarged fireplace. From +the direction and lift of the Master's face, he was watching something +above this line and directly over the pedestal of the andiron. I +watched, also, flattening my face against the sill, for the thing to +appear. + +“And it did appear. + +“A naked foot became slowly visible, as though some one were descending +with extreme care from the elevation of the andiron to the great marble +hearth, under this strange enlargement, now some distance below.” + +The big Oriental paused, and looked down at me. + +“I knew then, Excellency, that the Master was lost! The creative +energies of the Spirit suffer no division of worship; those of the +body must be wholly denied. I had warned the Master. And in travail, +Excellency, I turned over with my face to the floor. + +“But there is always hope, hope over the certainties of experience, over +the certainties of knowledge. Perhaps the Master, even now, sustained in +the spirit, would put away the devocation.... No, Excellency, I was not +misled. I knew the Master was beyond hope! But the will to hope moved +me, and I turned back to the crevice at the doorsill.” + +He paused. + +“There was now a delicate odor, everywhere, faintly, like the blossom +of the little bitter apple here in your country. The red embers in the +fireplace gave out a steady light; and in the glow of it, on the marble +hearth, stood the one who had descended from the elevation of the +andiron.” + +Again the man hesitated, as for an accurate method of expression. + +“In the flesh, Excellency, there was color that would not appear in +the image. The hair was yellow, and the eyes were blue; and against the +black marble of the fireplace the body was conspicuously white. But in +every other aspect of her, Excellency, the woman was on the hearth +in the flesh as she is in the clutch of the savage male figure in the +image. + +“There is no dress or ornament, as you will recall, Excellency. Not even +an ear-jewel or an anklet, as though the graver of the image felt +that the inherent beauty of his figure could take nothing from these +ostentations. The woman's heavy yellow hair was wound around her head, +as in the image. She shivered a little, faintly, like a naked child in +an unaccustomed draught of air, although she stood on the warm marble +hearth and within the red glow of the fire. + +“The voice from the male figure of the image, which I had brought the +Master, and which stood as the andiron, now so immensely enlarged, was +beginning again to speak. The thin metallic sounds seemed to splinter +against the dense silence, as it went forward in the ritual prescribed. + +“But the Master had already decided; he stood now on the great marble +hearth with his papers crushed together. And as I looked on, through the +crevice under the doorsill, he put out his free hand and with his +finger touched the woman gently. The flesh under his finger yielded, and +stooping over, he put the formulas into the fire.” + +Like one who has come to the end of his story, the huge Oriental +stopped. He remained for some moments silent. Then he continued in an +even, monotonous voice: + +“I got up from the floor then, and purified myself with water. And after +that I went into an upper chamber, opened the window to the east, and +sat down to write my report to the brotherhood. For the thing which I +had been sent to do was finished.” + +He put his hand somewhere into the loose folds of his Oriental garment +and brought out a roll of thin vellum like onion-skin, painted in +Chinese characters. It was of immense length, but on account of the +thinness of the vellum, the roll wound on a tiny cylinder of wood was +not above two inches in thickness. + +“Excellency,” he said, “I have carefully concealed this report through +the misfortunes that have attended me. It is not certain that I shall +be able to deliver it. Will you give it for me to the jewel merchant +Vanderdick, in Amsterdam? He will send it to Mahadal in Bombay, and it +will go north with the caravans.” + +His voice changed into a note of solicitation. + +“You will not fail me, Excellency--already for my bias to the Master I +am reduced in merit.” + +I put the scroll into my pocket and went out, for a motorcar had come +into the park, and I knew that Marquis had arrived. + +I met Sir Henry and the superintendent in the long corridor; they had +been looking in at my interview through the elevated grating. + +“Marquis,” I cried, “the judge was right to cut short the criminal trial +and issue a lunacy warrant. This creature is the maddest lunatic in this +whole asylum. The human mind is capable of any absurdity.” + +Sir Henry looked at me with a queer ironical smile. + +“The judge was wrong,” he said. “The creature, as you call him, is as +sane as any of us.” + +“Then you believe this amazing story?” I said. + +“I believe Rodman was found at daylight dead on the hearth, with +practically every bone in his body crushed,” he replied. + +“Certainly,” I said. “We all know that is true. But why was he killed?” + +Again Sir Henry regarded me with his ironical smile. + +“Perhaps,” he drawled, “there is some explanation in the report in your +pocket, to the Monastic Head. It's only a theory, you know.” + +He smiled, showing his white, even teeth. + +We went into the superintendent's room, and sat down by a smoldering +fire of coals in the gate. I handed Marquis the roll of vellum. It was +in one of the Shan dialects. He read it aloud. With the addition of +certain formal expressions, it contained precisely the Oriental's +testimony before the court, and no more. + +“Ah!” he said in his curiously inflected Oxford voice. + +And he held the scroll out to the heat of the fire. The vellum baked +slowly, and as it baked, the black Chinese characters faded out and +faint blue ones began to appear. + +Marquis read the secret message in his emotionless drawl: + +“'The American is destroyed, and his accursed work is destroyed with +him. Send the news to Bangkok and west to Burma. The treasures of India +are saved.”' + +I cried out in astonishment. + +“An assassin! The creature was an assassin! He killed Rodman simply by +crushing him in his arms!” + +Sir Henry's drawl lengthened. + +“It's Lal Gupta,” he said, “the cleverest Oriental in the whole of Asia. +The jewel-traders sent him to watch Rodman, and to kill him if he was +ever able to get his formulae worked out. They must have paid him an +incredible sum.” + +“And that is why the creature attached himself to Rodman!” I said. + +“Surely,” replied Sir Henry. “He brought that bronze Romulus carrying +off the Sabine woman and staged the supernatural to work out his plan +and to save his life. I knew the bronze as soon as I got my eye on +it--old Franz Josef gave it as a present to Mahadal in Bombay for +matching up some rubies.” + +I swore bitterly. + +“And we took him for a lunatic!” + +“Ah, yes!” replied Sir Henry. “What was it you said as I came in? 'The +human mind is capable of any absurdity!'” + + + + +II. The Reward + + +I was before one of those difficult positions unavoidable to a visitor +in a foreign country. + +I had to meet the obligations of professional courtesy. Captain Walker +had asked me to go over the manuscript of his memoirs; and now he had +called at the house in which I was a guest, for my opinion. We had long +been friends; associated in innumerable cases, and I wished to suggest +the difficulty rather than to express it. It was the twilight of an +early Washington winter. The lights in the great library, softened with +delicate shades, had been turned on. Outside, Sheridan Circle was almost +a thing of beauty in its vague outlines; even the squat, ridiculous +bronze horse had a certain dignity in the blue shadow. + +If one had been speculating on the man, from his physical aspect one +would have taken Walker for an engineer of some sort, rather than the +head of the United States Secret Service. His lean face and his angular +manner gaffe that impression. Even now, motionless in the big chair +beyond the table, he seemed--how shall I say it?--mechanical. + +And that was the very defect in his memoir. He had cut the great cases +into a dry recital. There was no longer in them any pressure of a human +impulse. The glow of inspired detail had been dissected out. Everything +startling and wonderful had been devitalized. + +The memoir was a report. + +The bulky typewritten manuscript lay on the table beside the electric +lamp, and I stood about uncertain how to tell him. + +“Walker,” I said, “did nothing wonderful ever happen to you in the +adventure of these cases?” + +“What precisely do you mean, Sir Henry?” he replied. + +The practical nature of the man tempted me to extravagance. + +“Well,” I said, “for example, were you never kissed in a lonely street +by a mysterious woman and the flash of your dark lantern reveal a face +of startling beauty?” + +“No,” he said, as though he were answering a sensible question, “that +never happened to me.” + +“Then,” I continued, “perhaps you have found a prince of the church, +pale as alabaster, sitting in his red robe, who put together the +indicatory evidence of the crime that baffled you with such uncanny +acumen that you stood aghast at his perspicacity?” + +“No,” he said; and then his face lighted. “But I'll tell you what I did +find. I found a drunken hobo at Atlantic City who was the best detective +I ever saw.” + +I sat down and tapped the manuscript with my fingers. + +“It's not here,” I said. “Why did you leave it out?” + +He took a big gold watch out of his pocket and turned it about in his +hand. The case was covered with an inscription. + +“Well, Sir Henry,” he said, “the boys in the department think a good +deal of me. I shouldn't like them to know how a dirty tramp faked me at +Atlantic City. I don't mind telling you, but I couldn't print it in a +memoir.” + +He went directly ahead with the story and I was careful not to interrupt +him: + +“I was sitting in a rolling chair out there on the Boardwalk before the +Traymore. I was nearly all in, and I had taken a run to Atlantic for a +day or two of the sea air. The fact is the whole department was down and +out. You may remember what we were up against; it finally got into the +newspapers. + +“The government plates of the Third Liberty Bond issue had disappeared. +We knew how they had gotten out, and we thought we knew the man at the +head of the thing. It was a Mulehaus job, as we figured it. + +“It was too big a thing for a little crook. With the government plates +they could print Liberty Bonds just as the Treasury would. And they +could sow the world with them.” + +He paused and moved his gold-rimmed spectacles a little closer in on his +nose. + +“You see these war bonds are scattered all over the country. They are +held by everybody. It's not what it used to be, a banker's business that +we could round up. Nobody could round up the holders of these bonds. + +“A big crook like Mulehaus could slip a hundred million of them into the +country and never raise a ripple.” + +He paused and drew his fingers across his bony protruding chin. + +“I'll say this for Mulehaus: He's the hardest man to identify in the +whole kingdom of crooks. Scotland Yard, the Service de la Surete, +everybody, says that. I don't mean dime-novel disguises--false whiskers +and a limp. I mean the ability to be the character he pretends--the +thing that used to make Joe Jefferson, Rip Van Winkle--and not an actor +made up to look like him. That's the reason nobody could keep track of +Mulehaus, especially in South American cities. He was a French banker in +the Egypt business and a Swiss banker in the Argentine.” + +He turned back from the digression: + +“And it was a clean job. They had got away with the plates. We didn't +have a clew. We thought, naturally, that they'd make for Mexico or some +South American country to start their printing press. And we had the +ports and border netted up. Nothing could have gone out across the +border or, through any port. All the customs officers were, working with +us, and every agent of the Department of Justice.” + +He looked at me steadily across the table. + +“You see the Government had to get those plates back before the crook +started to print, or else take up every bond of that issue over the +whole country. It was a hell of a thing! + +“Of course we had gone right after the record of all the big crooks +to see whose line this sort of job was. And the thing narrowed down to +Mulehaus or old Vronsky. We soon found out it wasn't Vronsky. He was in +Joliet. It was Mulehaus. But we couldn't find him. + +“We didn't even know that Mulehaus was in America. He's a big crook with +a genius for selecting men. He might be directing the job from Rio or +a Mexican port. But we were sure it was a Mulehaus' job. He sold the +French securities in Egypt in '90; and he's the man who put the bogus +Argentine bonds on our market--you'll find the case in the 115th Federal +Reporter. + +“Well,” he went on, “I was sitting out there in the rolling chair, +looking at the sun on the sea and thinking about the thing, when +I noticed this hobo that I've been talking about. He was my chair +attendant, but I hadn't looked at him before. He had moved round from +behind me and was now leaning against the galvanized pipe railing. + +“He was a big human creature, a little stooped, unshaved and dirty; his +mouth was slack and loose, and he had a big mobile nose that seemed to +move about like a piece of soft rubber. He had hardly any clothing; a +cap that must have been fished out of an ash barrel, no shirt whatever, +merely an old ragged coat buttoned round him, a pair of canvas breeches +and carpet slippers tied on to his feet with burlap, and wrapped round +his ankles to conceal the fact that he wore no socks. + +“As I looked at him he darted out, picked up the stump of a cigarette +that some one had thrown down, and came back to the railing to smoke it, +his loose mouth and his big soft nose moving like kneaded putty. + +“Altogether this tramp was the worst human derelict I ever saw. And it +occurred to me that this was the one place in the whole of America where +any sort of a creature could get a kind of employment and no questions +asked. + +“Anything that could move and push a chair could get fifteen cents an +hour from McDuyal. Wise man, poor man, beggar man, thief, it was all one +to McDuyal. And the creatures could sleep in the shed behind the rolling +chairs. + +“I suppose an impulse to offer the man a garment of some sort moved me +to address him. + +“'You're nearly naked,' I said. + +“He crossed one leg over the other with the toe of the carpet slipper +touching the walk, in the manner of a burlesque actor, took the +cigarette out of his mouth with a little flourish, and replied to me: + +“'Sure, Governor, I ain't dolled up like John Drew.' + +“There was a sort of cocky unconcern about the creature that gave his +miserable state a kind of beggarly distinction. He was in among the very +dregs of life, and he was not depressed about it. + +“'But if I had a sawbuck,” he continued, “I could bulge your eye .... +Couldn't point the way to one?' + +“He arrested my answer with the little flourish of his fingers holding +the stump of the cigarette. + +“'Not work, Governor,' and he made a little duck of his head, 'and not +murder.... Go as far as you please between 'em.' + +“The fantastic manner of the derelict was infectious. + +“'O. K.' I said. 'Go out and find me a man who is a deserter from the +German Army, was a tanner in Bale and began life as a sailor, and I'll +double your money--I'll give you a twenty-dollar bill.' + +“The creature whistled softly in two short staccato notes. + +“'Some little order,' he said. And taking a toothpick out of his pocket +he stuck it into the stump of the cigarette which had become too short +to hold between his fingers. + +“At this moment a boy from the post office came to me with the daily +report from Washington, and I got out of the chair, tipped the creature, +and went into the hotel, stopping to pay McDuyal as I passed. + +“There was nothing new from the department except that our organization +over the country was in close touch. We had offered five thousand +dollars reward for the recovery of the plates, and the Post Office +Department was now posting the notice all over America in every office. +The Secretary thought we had better let the public in on it and not keep +it an underground offer to the service. + +“I had forgotten the hobo, when about five o'clock he passed me a +little below the Steel Pier. He was in a big stride and he had something +clutched in his hand. + +“He called to me as he hurried along: 'I got him, Governor.... See you +later!' + +“'See me now,' I said. 'What's the hurry?' + +“He flashed his hand open, holding a silver dollar with his thumb +against the palm. + +“'Can't stop now, I'm going to get drunk. See you later.' + +“I smiled at this disingenuous creature. He was saving me for the dry +hour. He could point out Mulehaus in any passing chair, and I would give +some coin to be rid of his pretension.” + +Walker paused. Then he went on: + +“I was right. The hobo was waiting for me when I came out of the hotel +the following morning. + +“'Howdy, Governor,' he said; 'I located your man.' + +“I was interested to see how he would frame up his case. + +“'How did you find him?' I said. + +“He grinned, moving his lip and his loose nose. + +“'Some luck, Governor, and some sleuthin'. It was like this: I thought +you was stringin' me. But I said to myself I'll keep out an eye; maybe +it's on the level--any damn thing can happen.' + +“He put up his hand as though to hook his thumb into the armhole of his +vest, remembered that he had only a coat buttoned round him and dropped +it. + +“'And believe me or not, Governor, it's the God's truth. About four +o'clock up toward the Inlet I passed a big, well-dressed, banker-looking +gent walking stiff from the hip and throwing out his leg. “Come eleven!” + I said to myself. “It's the goosestep!” I had an empty roller, and I +took a turn over to him.' + +“'“Chair, Admiral?” I said. + +“'He looked at me sort of queer. + +“'“What makes you think I'm an admiral, my man?” he answers. + +“Well,” I says, lounging over on one foot reflective like, “nobody could +be a-viewin' the sea with that lovin', ownership look unless he'd bossed +her a bit.... If I'm right, Admiral, you takes the chair.” + +“'He laughed, but he got in. “I'm not an admiral,” he said, “but it is +true that I've followed the sea.” + +“The hobo paused, and put up his first and second fingers spread like a +V. + +“'Two points, Governor--the gent had been a sailor and a soldier; now +how about the tanner business? + +“He scratched his head, moving his ridiculous cap. + +“'That sort of puzzled me, and I pussyfooted along toward the Inlet +thinkin' about it. If a man was a tanner, and especially a foreign, +hand-workin' tanner, what would his markin's be? + +“'I tried to remember everybody that I'd ever seen handlin' a hide, and +all at once I recollected that the first thing a dago shoemaker done +when he picked up a piece of leather was to smooth it out with his +thumbs. An' I said to myself, now that'll be what a tanner does, only he +does it more.... he's always doin' it. Then I asks myself what would be +the markin's?' + +“The hobo paused, his mouth open, his head twisted to one side. Then he +jerked up as under a released spring. + +“'And right away, Governor, I got the answer to it flat thumbs!' + +“The hobo stepped back with an air of victory and flashed his hand up. + +“'And he had 'em! I asked him what time it was so I could keep the hour +straight for McDuyal, I told him, but the real reason was so I could see +his hands.'” + +Walker crossed one leg over the other. + +“It was clever,” he said, “and I hesitated to shatter it. But the +question had to come. + +“'Where is your man?' I said. + +“The hobo executed a little deprecatory step, with his fingers picking +at his coat pockets. + +“'That's the trouble, Governor,' he answered; 'I intended to sleuth him +for you, but he gave me a dollar and I got drunk... you saw me. That man +had got out at McDuyal's place not five minutes before. I was flashin' +to the booze can when you tried to stop me.... Nothin' doin' when I get +the price.'” + +Walker paused. + +“It was a good fairy story and worth something. I offered him half a +dollar. Then I got a surprise. + +“The creature looked eagerly at the coin in my fingers, and he moved +toward it. He was crazy for the liquor it would buy. But he set his +teeth and pulled up. + +“'No, Governor,' he said, 'I'm in it for the sawbuck. Where'll I find +you about noon?' + +“I promised to be on the Boardwalk before Heinz's Pier at two o'clock, +and he turned to shuffle away. I called an inquiry after him... You see +there were two things in his story: How did he get a dollar tip, and +how did he happen to make his imaginary man banker-looking? Mulehaus had +been banker-looking in both the Egypt and the Argentine affairs. I left +the latter point suspended, as we say. But I asked about the dollar. He +came back at once. + +“'I forgot about that, Governor,' he said. 'It was like this: The +admiral kept looking out at the sea where an old freighter was going +South. You know, the fruit line from New York. One of them goes by +every day or two. And I kept pushing him along. Finally we got up to the +Inlet, and I was about to turn when he stopped me. You know the neck of +ground out beyond where the street cars loop; there's an old board fence +by the road, then sand to the sea, and about halfway between the fence +and the water there's a shed with some junk in it. You've seen it. They +made the old America out there and the shed was a tool house. + +“'When I stopped the admiral says: “Cut across to the hole in that old +board fence and see if an automobile has been there, and I'll give you a +dollar.” An' I done it, an' I got it.' + +“Then he shuffled off. + +“'Be on the spot, Governor, an' I'll lead him to you.'” + +Walker leaned over, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, and +linked his fingers together. + +“That gave me a new flash on the creature. He was a slicker article than +I imagined. I was not to get off with a tip. He was taking some pains to +touch me for a greenback. I thought I saw his line. It would not account +for his hitting the description of Mulehaus in the make-up of his +straw-man, but it would furnish the data for the dollar story. I had +drawn the latter a little before he was ready. It belonged in what he +planned to give me at two o'clock. But I thought I saw what the creature +was about. And I was right.” + +Walker put out his hand and moved the pages of his memoir on the table. +Then he went on: + +“I was smoking a cigar on a bench at the entrance to Heinz's Pier when +the hobo shuffled up. He came down one of the streets from Pacific +Avenue, and the direction confirmed me in my theory. It also confirmed +me in the opinion that I was all kinds of a fool to let this dirty hobo +get a further chance at me. + +“I was not in a very good humor. Everything I had set going after +Mulehaus was marking time. The only report was progress in linking +things up; not only along the Canadian and Mexican borders and the +customhouses, but we had also done a further unusual thing, we had +an agent on every ship going out of America to follow through to the +foreign port and look out for anything picked up on the way. + +“It was a plan I had set at immediately the robbery was discovered. It +would cut out the trick of reshipping at sea from some fishing craft or +small boat. The reports were encouraging enough in that respect. We had +the whole country as tight as a drum. But it was slender comfort when +the Treasury was raising the devil for the plates and we hadn't a clew +to them.” + +Walker stopped a moment. Then he went on: + +“I felt like kicking the hobo when he got to me, he was so obviously the +extreme of all worthless creatures, with that apologetic, confidential +manner which seems to be an abominable attendant on human degeneracy. +One may put up with it for a little while, but it presently becomes +intolerable. + +“'Governor,' he began, when he'd shuffled up, 'you won't git mad if I +say a little somethin'? + +“'Go on and say it,' I said. + +“The expression on his dirty unshaved face became, if possible, more +foolish. + +“'Well, then, Governor, askin' your pardon, you ain't Mr. Henry P. +Johnson, from Erie; you're the Chief of the United States Secret +Service, from Washington.'” + +Walker moved in his chair. + +“That made me ugly,” he went on, “the assurance of the creature and my +unspeakable carelessness in permitting the official letters brought +to me on the day before by the post-office messenger to be seen. In my +relaxation I had forgotten the eye of the chair attendant. I took the +cigar out of my teeth and looked at him. + +“'And I'll say a little something myself!' I could hardly keep my foot +clear of him. 'When you got sober this morning and remembered who I was, +you took a turn up round the post office to make sure of it, and while +you were in there you saw the notice of the reward for the stolen bond +plates. That gave you the notion with which you pieced out your fairy +story about how you got the dollar tip. Having discovered my identity +through a piece of damned carelessness on my part, and having seen the +postal notice of the reward, you undertook to enlarge your little game. +That's the reason you wouldn't take fifty cents. It was your notion in +the beginning to make a touch for a tip. And it would have worked. But +now you can't get a damned cent out of me.' Then I threw a little brush +into him: 'I'd have stood a touch for your finding the fake tanner, +because there isn't any such person.' + +“I intended to put the hobo out of business,” Walker went on, “but the +effect of my words on him were even more startling than I anticipated. +His jaw dropped and he looked at me in astonishment. + +“'No such person!' he repeated. 'Why, Governor, before God, I found a +man like that, an' he was a banker--one of the big ones, sure as there's +a hell!'” + +Walker put out his hands in a puzzled gesture. + +“There it was again, the description of Mulehaus! And it puzzled me. +Every motion of this hobo's mind in every direction about this affair +was perfectly clear to me. I saw his intention in every turn of it and +just where he got the material for the details of his story. But +this absolutely distinguishing description of Mulehaus was beyond me. +Everybody, of course, knew that we were looking for the lost plates, for +there was the reward offered by the Treasury; but no human soul outside +of the trusted agents of the department knew that we were looking for +Mulehaus.” + +Walker did not move, but he stopped in his recital for a moment. + +“The tramp shuffled up a step closer to the bench where I sat. The +anxiety in his big slack face was sincere beyond question. + +“'I can't find the banker man, Governor; he's skipped the coop. But I +believe I can find what he's hid.' + +“'Well,' I said, 'go and find it.' + +“The hobo jerked out his limp hands in a sort of hopeless gesture. + +“'Now, Governor,' he whimpered, 'what good would it do me to find them +plates?' + +“'You'd get five thousand dollars,' I said. + +“'I'd git kicked into the discard by the first cop that got to me,' he +answered, 'that's what I'd git.' + +“The creature's dirty, unshaved jowls began to shake, and his voice +became wholly a whimper. + +“'I've got a line on this thing, Governor, sure as there's a hell. That +banker man was viewin' the layout. I've thought it all over, an' this is +the way it would be. They're afraid of the border an' they're afraid +of the customhouses, so they runs the loot down here in an automobile, +hides it up about the Inlet, and plans to go out with it to one of them +fruit steamers passing on the way to Tampico. They'd have them plates +bundled up in a sailor's chest most like. + +“'Now, Governor, you'd say why ain't they already done it? An' I'd +answer, the main guy--this banker man--didn't know the automobile had +got here until he sent me to look, and there ain't been no ship along +since then.... I've been special careful to find that out.' And then the +creature began to whine. 'Have a heart, Governor, come along with me. +Gimme a show!' + +“It was not the creature's plea that moved me, nor his pretended +deductions; I'm a bit old to be soft. It was the 'banker man' sticking +like a bur in the hobo's talk. I wanted to keep him in sight until I +understood where he got it. No doubt that seems a slight reason for +going out to the Inlet with the creature; but you must remember that +slight things are often big signboards in our business.” + +He continued, his voice precise and even + +“We went directly from the end of the Boardwalk to the old shed; it was +open, an unfastened door on a pair of leather hinges. The shed is small, +about twenty feet by eleven, with a hard dirt floor packed down by the +workmen who had used it; a combination of clay and sand like the Jersey +roads put in to make a floor. All round it, from the sea to the board +fence, was soft sand. There were some pieces of old junk lying about in +the shed; but nothing of value or it would have been nailed up. + +“The hobo led right off with his deductions. There, was the track of a +man, clearly outlined in the soft sand, leading from the board fence to +the shed and returning, and no other track anywhere about. + +“'Now, Governor,' he began, when he had taken a look at the tracks, 'the +man that made them tracks carried something into this shed, and he left +it here, and it was something heavy.' + +“I was fairly certain that the hobo had salted the place for me, made +the tracks himself; but I played out a line to him. + +“'How do you know that?' I said. + +“'Well, Governor,' he answered, 'take a look at them two lines of +tracks. In the one comin' to the shed the man was walkin' with his feet +apart and in the one goin' back he was walkin' with his feet in front of +one another; that's because he was carryin' somethin' heavy when he come +an' nothin' when he left.' + +“It was an observation on footprints,” he went on, “that had never +occurred to me. The hobo saw my awakened interest, and he added: + +“'Did you never notice a man carryin' a heavy load? He kind of totters, +walkin' with his feet apart to keep his balance. That makes his foot +tracks side by side like, instead of one before the other as he makes +them when he's goin' light.”' + +Walker interrupted his narrative with a comment: + +“It's the truth. I've verified it a thousand times since that hobo put +me onto it. A line running through the center of the heel prints of a +man carrying a heavy burden will be a zigzag, while one through the heel +prints of the same man without the burden will be almost straight. + +“The tramp went right on with his deductions: + +“'If it come in and didn't go out, it's here.' + +“And he began to go over the inside of the shed. He searched it like a +man searching a box for a jewel. He moved the pieces of old castings and +he literally fingered the shed from end to end. He would have found a +bird's egg. + +“Finally he stopped and stood with his hand spread out over his mouth. +And I selected this critical moment to touch the powder off under his +game. + +“'Suppose,' I said, 'that this man with the heavy load wished to mislead +us; suppose that instead of bringing something here he took one of these +old castings away?' + +“The hobo looked at me without changing his position. + +“'How could he, Governor; he was pointin' this way with the load?' + +“'By walking backward,' I said. For it occurred to me that perhaps the +creature had manufactured this evidence for the occasion, and I wished +to test the theory.” + +Walker went on in his slow, even voice: + +“The test produced more action than I expected. + +“The hobo dived out through the door. I followed to see him disappear. +But it was not in flight; he was squatting down over the footprints. +And a moment later he rocked back on his haunches with a little exultant +yelp. + +“'Dope's wrong, Governor,' he said; 'he was sure comin' this way.' Then +he explained: 'If a man's walkin' forward in sand or mud or snow the toe +of his shoe flirts out a little of it, an' if he's walkin' backward his +heel flirts it out.' + +“At this point I began to have some respect for the creature's ability. +He got up and came back into the shed. And there he stood, in his old +position, with his fingers over his mouth, looking round at the empty +shed, in which, as I have said, one could not have concealed a bird's +egg. + +“I watched him without offering any suggestion, for my interest in the +thing had awakened and I was curious to see what he would do. He stood +perfectly motionless for about a minute; and then suddenly he snapped +his fingers and the light came into his face. + +“'I got it, Governor!' Then he came over to where I stood. 'Gimme a +quarter to git a bucket.' + +“I gave him the coin, for I was now profoundly puzzled, and he went out. +He was gone perhaps twenty minutes, and when he came in he had a bucket +of water. But he had evidently been thinking on the way, for he set the +bucket down carefully, wiped his hands on his canvas breeches, and began +to speak, with a little apologetic whimper in his voice. + +“'Now look here, Governor,' he said, 'I'm a-goin' to talk turkey; do I +git the five thousand if I find this stuff?' + +“'Surely,' I answered him. + +“'An' there'll be no monkeyin', Governor; you'll take me down to a bank +yourself an' put the money in my hand?' + +“'I promise you that,' I assured him. + +“But he was not entirely quiet in his mind about it. He shifted uneasily +from one foot to the other, and his soft rubber nose worked. + +“'Now, Governor,' he said, 'I'm leery about jokers--I gotta be. I don't +want any string to this money. If I git it I want to go and blow it +in. I don't want you to hand me a roll an' then start any reformin' +stunt--a-holdin' of it in trust an' a probation officer a-pussyfootin' +me, or any funny business. I want the wad an' a clear road to the bright +lights, with no word passed along to pinch me. Do I git it?' + +“'It's a trade!' I said. + +“'O. K.,' he answered, and he took up the bucket. He began at the door +and poured the water carefully on the hard tramped earth. When the +bucket was empty he brought another and another. Finally about midway of +the floor space he stopped. + +“'Here it is!' he said. + +“I was following beside him, but I saw nothing to justify his words. + +“'Why do you think the plates are buried here?' I said. + +“'Look at the air bubbles comin' up, Governor,' he answered.” + +Walker stopped, then he added: + +“It's a thing which I did not know until that moment, but it's the +truth. If hard-packed earth is dug up and repacked air gets into it, and +if one pours water on the place air bubbles will come up.” + +He did not go on, and I flung at him the big query in his story. + +“And you found the plates there?” + +“Yes, Sir Henry,” he replied, “in the false bottom of an old steamer +trunk.” + +“And the hobo got the money?” + +“Certainly,” he answered. “I put it into his hand, and let him go with +it, as I promised.” + +Again he was silent, and I turned toward him in astonishment. + +“Then,” I said, “why did you begin this story by saying the hobo faked +you? I don't see the fake; he found the plates and he was entitled to +the reward.” + +Walker put his hand into his pocket, took out a leather case, selected +a paper from among its contents and handed it to me. “I didn't see the +fake either,” he said, “until I got this letter.” + +I unfolded the letter carefully. It was neatly written in a hand like +copper plate and dated Buenos Aires. + +DEAR COLONEL WALKER: When I discovered that you were planting an agent +on every ship I had to abandon the plates and try for the reward. Thank +you for the five thousand; it covered expenses. + +Very sincerely yours, + +D. Mulehaus. + + + + +III. The Lost Lady + + +It was a remark of old Major Carrington that incited this adventure. + +“It is some distance through the wood--is she quite safe?” + +It was a mere reflection as he went out. It was very late. I do not know +how the dinner, or rather the after-hours of it, had lengthened. It must +have been the incomparable charm of the woman. She had come, this night, +luminously, it seemed to us, through the haze that had been on her--the +smoke haze of a strange, blighting fortune. The three of us had been +carried along in it with no sense of time; my sister, the ancient Major +Carrington and I. + +He turned back in the road, his decayed voice whipped by the stimulus of +her into a higher note. + +“Suppose the village coachman should think her as lovely as we +do--what!” + +He laughed and turned heavily up the road a hundred yards or so to his +cottage set in the pine wood. I stood in the road watching the wheels +of the absurd village vehicle, the yellow cut-under, disappear. The old +Major called back to me; his voice seemed detached, eerie with the thin +laugh in it. + +“I thought him a particularly villainous-looking creature!” + +It was an absurd remark. The man was one of the natives of the island, +and besides, the innkeeper was a person of sound sense; he would know +precisely about his driver. + +I should not have gone on this adventure but for a further incident. + +When I entered the house my sister was going up the stair, the butler +was beyond in the drawing-room, and there was no other servant visible. +She was on the first step and the elevation gave precisely the height +that my sister ought to have received in the accident of birth. She +would have been wonderful with those four inches added--lacking beauty, +she had every other grace! + +She spoke to me as I approached. + +“Winthrop,” she said, “what was in the package that Madame Barras +carried away with her tonight?” + +The query very greatly surprised me. I thought Madame Barras had carried +this package away with her several evenings before when I had put her +English bank-notes in my box at the local bank. My sister added the +explanation which I should have been embarrassed to seek, at the moment. + +“She asked me to put it somewhere, on Tuesday afternoon.... It was +forgotten, I suppose.... I laid it in a drawer of the library table.... +What did it contain?” + +I managed an evasive reply, for the discovery opened possibilities that +disturbed me. + +“Some certificates, I believe,” I said. + +My sister made a little pretended gesture of dismay. + +“I should have been more careful; such things are of value.” + +Of value indeed! The certificates in Madame Barras' package, that had +lain about on the library table, were gold certificates of the United +States Treasury--ninety odd of them, each of a value of one thousand +dollars! My sister went: + +“How oddly life has tossed her about.... She must have been a mere +infant at Miss Page's. The attachment of incoming tots to the older +girls was a custom.... I do not recall her.... There was always a string +of mites with shiny pigtails and big-eyed wistful faces. The older +girls never thought very much about them. One has a swarm-memory, +but individuals escape one. The older girl, in these schools, fancied +herself immensely. The little satellite that attached itself, with its +adoration, had no identity. It had a nickname, I think, or a number.... +I have forgotten. We minimized these midges out of everything that could +distinguish them.... Fancy one of these turning up in Madame Barras and +coming to me on the memory of it.” + +“It was extremely lucky for her,” I said. “Imagine arriving from the +interior of Brazil on the invitation of Mrs. Jordan to find that lady +dead and buried; with no friend, until, by chance, one happened on your +name in the social register, and ventured on a school attachment of +which there might remain, perhaps a memory only on the infant's side.” + +My sister went on up the stair. + +“I am glad we happened to be here, and, especially, Winthrop, if you +have been able to assist her.... She is charming.” + +Charming was the word descriptive of my sister, for it is a thing of +manner from a nature elevated and noble, but it was not the word for +Madame Barras. The woman was a lure. I mean the term in its large and +catholic sense. I mean the bait of a great cosmic impulse--the most +subtle and the most persistent of which one has any sense. + +The cunning intelligences of that impulse had decked her out with +every attractiveness as though they had taken thought to confound all +masculine resistance; to sweep into their service those refractory units +that withheld themselves from the common purpose. She was lovely, as the +aged Major Carrington had uttered it--great violet eyes in a delicate +skin sown with gold flecks, a skin so delicate that one felt that a kiss +would tear it! + +I do not know from what source I have that expression but it attaches +itself, out of my memory of descriptive phrases, to Madame Barras. And +it extends itself as wholly descriptive of her. You will say that the +long and short of this is that I was in love with Madame Barras, but I +point you a witness in Major Carrington. + +He had the same impressions, and he had but one passion in his life, a +distant worship of my sister that burned steadily even here at the +end of life. During the few evenings that Madame Barras had been in +to dinner with us, he sat in his chair beyond my sister in the +drawing-room, perfect in his early-Victorian manner, while Madame Barras +and I walked on the great terrace, or sat outside. + +One had a magnificent sweep of the world, at night, from that terrace. +It looked out over the forest of pines to the open sea. + +Madame Barras confessed to the pull of this vista. She asked me at what +direction the Atlantic entered, and when she knew, she kept it always in +her sight. + +It had a persisting fascination for her. At all times and in nearly any +position, she was somehow sensible of this vista; she knew the lights +almost immediately, and the common small craft blinking about. To-night +she had sat for a long time in nearly utter silence here. There was a +faint light on the open sea as she got up to take her leave of us; what +would it be she wondered. + +I replied that it was some small craft coming in. + +“A fishing-boat?” + +“Hardly that,” I said, “from its lights and position it will be some +swifter power-boat and, I should say, not precisely certain about the +channel.” + +I have been drawn here into reminiscence that did not, at the time, +detain me in the hall. What my sister had discovered to me, following +Major Carrington's remark, left me distinctly uneasy. It was very nearly +two miles to the village, the road was wholly forest and there would be +no house on the way; for my father, with an utter disregard for cost, +had sought the seclusion of a large acreage when he had built this +absurdly elaborate villa on Mount Desert Island. + +Besides I was in no mood for sleep. + +And, over all probability, there might be some not entirely imaginary +danger to Madame Barras. Not precisely the danger presented in Major +Carrington's pleasantry, but the always possible danger to one who is +carrying a sum of money about. It would be considered, in the world of +criminal activities, a very large sum of money; and it had been lying +here, as of no value, in a drawer of the library table since the day +on which the gold certificates had arrived on my check from the Boston +bank. + +Madame Barras had not taken the currency away as I imagined. It was +extremely careless of her, but was it not an act in character? + +What would such a woman know of practical concern? + +I spoke to the butler. He should not wait up, I would let myself in; and +I went out. + +I remember that I got a cap and a stick out of the rack; there was no +element of selection in the cap, but there was a decided subconscious +direction about the selection of the stick. It was a heavy blackthorn, +with an iron ferrule and a silver weight set in the head; picked up--by +my father at some Irish fair--a weapon in fact. + +It was not dark. It was one of those clear hard nights that are not +uncommon on this island in midsummer; with a full moon, the road +was visible even in the wood. I swung along it with no particular +precaution; I was not expecting anything to happen, and in fact, nothing +did happen on the way into the village. + +But in this attitude of confidence I failed to discover an event of this +night that might have given the whole adventure a different ending. + +There is a point near the village where a road enters our private one; +skirts the border of the mountain, and, making a great turn, enters the +village from the south. At this division of the road I heard distinctly +a sound in the wood. + +It was not a sound to incite inquiry. It was the sound of some +considerable animal moving in the leaves, a few steps beyond the road. +It did not impress me at the time; estrays were constantly at large in +our forests in summer, and not infrequently a roaming buck from the +near preserves. There was also here in addition to the other roads, +an abandoned winter wood-road that ran westward across the island to +a small farming settlement. Doubtless I took a slighter notice of the +sound because estrays from the farmers' fields usually trespassed on us +from this road. + +At any rate I went on. I fear that I was very much engrossed with the +memory of Madame Barras. Not wholly with the feminine lure of her, +although as I have written she was the perfection of that lure. One +passed women, at all milestones, on the way to age, and kept before +them one's sound estimates of life, but before this woman one lost one's +head, as though Nature, evaded heretofore, would not be denied. But the +weird fortune that had attended her was in my mind. + +Married to Senor Barras out of the door of a convent, carried to Rio +de Janeiro to an unbearable life, escaping with a remnant of her +inheritance in English bank-notes, she arrives here to visit the one, +old, persisting friend, Mrs. Jordan, and finds her dead! And what seemed +strange, incredible beyond belief, was that this creature Barras had +thought only of her fortune which he had depleted in two years to the +something less than twenty thousand pounds which I had exchanged for her +into our money; a mere fragment of her great inheritance. + +I had listened to the story entranced with the alluring teller of it; +wondering as I now wondered, on the road to the village, how anything +pretending to be man could think of money when she was before his eye. + +What could he buy with money that equaled her! And yet this curious +jackal had seen in her only the key to a strong-box. There was behind +it, in explanation, shadowed out, the glamor of an empire that Senor +Barras would set up with the millions in his country of revolutions, and +the enthusiasms of a foolish mother. + +And yet the jackal and this wreckage had not touched her. There was no +stain, no crumpled leaf. She was a fresh wonder, even after this, out of +a chrysalis. It was this amazing newness, this virginity of blossom from +which one could not escape. + +The word in my reflection brought me up. How had she escaped from +Barras? + +I had more than once in my reflections pivoted on the word. + +The great hotel was very nearly deserted when I entered. + +There was the glow of a cigar where some one smoked, at the end of the +long porch. Within, there was only a sleepy clerk. + +Madame Barras had not arrived... he was quite sure; she had gone out to +dinner somewhere and had not come in! + +I was profoundly concerned. But I took a moment to reflect before +deciding what to do. + +I stepped outside and there, coming up from the shadow of the porch, I +met Sir Henry Marquis. + +It was chance at its extreme of favor. If I had been given the +selection, in all the world, I should have asked for Sir Henry Marquis +at that decisive moment. + +The relief I felt made my words extravagant. + +“Marquis!” I cried. “You here!” + +“Ah, Winthrop,” he said, in his drawling Oxford voice, “what have you +done with Madame Barras; I was waiting for her?” + +I told him, in a word, how she had set out from my house--my +concern--the walk down here and this result. I did not ask him at the +moment how he happened to be here, or with a knowledge of our guest. +I thought that Marquis was in Canada. But one does not, with success, +inquire of a C.I.D. official even in his own country. One met him in the +most unexpected places, unconcerned, and one would have said at leisure. + +But he was concerned to-night. What I told brought him up. He stood for +a moment silent. Then he said, softly, in order drat the clerk behind us +might not overhear. + +“Don't speak of it. I will get a light and go with you!” + +He returned in a moment and we went out. He asked me about the road, was +there only one way down; and I told him precisely. There was only the +one road into the village and no way to miss it unless one turned into +the public road at the point where it entered our private one along the +mountain. + +He pitched at once upon this point and we hurried back. + +We had hardly a further word on the way. I was decidedly uneasy about +Madame Barras by now, and Marquis' concern was hardly less evident. He +raced along in his immense stride, and I had all I could manage to keep +up. + +It may seem strange that I should have brought such a man as Sir Henry +Marquis into the search of this adventure with so little explanation +of my guest or the affair. But, one must remember, Marquis was an old +acquaintance frequently seen about in the world. To thus, on the spot +so to speak, draft into my service the first gentleman I found, was +precisely what any one would have done. It was probable, after all, that +there had been some reason why the cut-under had taken the other road, +and Madame Barras was quite all right. + +It was better to make sure before one raised the village--and Marquis, +markedly, was beyond any aid the village could have furnished. This +course was strikingly justified by every after-event. + +I have said that the night was not dark. The sky was hard with stars, +like a mosaic. This white moonlight entered through the tree-tops and +in a measure illumined the road. We were easily able to see, when we +reached the point, that the cut-under had turned out into the road +circling the mountain to the west of the village. The track was so +clearly visible in the light, that I must have observed it had I been +thinking of the road instead of the one who had set out upon it. + +I was going on quickly, when Marquis stopped. He was stooping over the +track of the vehicle. He did not come on and I went back. + +“What is it?” I said. + +He answered, still stooping above the track. + +“The cut-under stopped here.” + +“How do you know that?” I asked, for it seemed hardly possible to +determine where a wheeled vehicle had stopped. + +“It's quite clear,” he replied. “The horse has moved about without going +on.” + +I now saw it. The hoof-marks of the horse had displaced the dust where +it had several times changed position. + +“And that's not all,” Marquis continued. “Something has happened to the +cut-under here!” + +I was now closely beside him. + +“It was broken down, perhaps, or some accident to the harness?” + +“No,” he replied. “The wheel tracks are here broadened, as though they +had skidded on a turn. This would mean little if the cut-under had been +moving at the time. But it was not moving; the horse was standing. The +cut-under had stopped.” + +He went on as though in a reflection to himself. + +“The vehicle must have been violently thrown about here, by something.” + +I had a sudden inspiration. + +“I see it!” I cried. “The horse took fright, stopped, and then bolted; +there has been a run-away. That accounts for the turn out. Let's hurry!” + +But Marquis detained me with a firm hand on my arm. + +“No,” he said, “the horse was not running when it turned out and it did +not stop here in fright. The horse was entirely quiet here. The hoof +marks would show any alarm in the animal, and, moreover, if it had +stopped in fright there would have been an inevitable recoil which would +have thrown the wheels of the vehicle backward out of their track. No +moving animal, man included, stopped by fright fails to register +this recoil. We always look for it in evidences of violent assault. +Footprints invariably show it, and one learns thereby, unerringly, the +direction of the attack.” + +He rose, his hand still extended and upon my arm. + +“There is only one possible explanation,” he added. “Something happened +in the cut-under to throw it violently about in the road, and it +happened with the horse undisturbed and the vehicle standing still. The +wheel tracks are widened only at one point, showing a transverse but no +lateral movement of the vehicle.” + +“A struggle?” I cried. “Major Carrington was right, Madame Barras has +been attacked by the driver!” + +Marquis' hand held me firmly in the excitement of that realization. +He was entirely composed. There was even a drawl in his voice as he +answered me. + +“Major Carrington, whoever he may be,” he said, “is wrong; if we exclude +a third party, it was Madame Barras who attacked the driver.” + +His fingers tightened under my obvious protest. + +“It is quite certain,” he continued. “Taking the position of the +standing horse, it will be the front wheels of the cut-under that have +made, this widened track; the wheels under the driver's seat, and not +the wheels under the guest seat, in the rear of the vehicle. There has +been a violent struggle in this cut-under, but it was a struggle that +took place wholly in the front of the vehicle.” + +He went on in his maddeningly imperturbable calm. + +“No one attacked our guest, but some one, here at this precise point, +did attack the driver of this vehicle.” + +“For God's sake,” I cried, “let's hurry!” + +He stepped back slowly to the edge of the road and the drawl in his +voice lengthened. + +“We do hurry,” he said. “We hurry to the value of knowing that there was +no accident here to the harness, no fright to the horse, no attack on +the lady, and no change in the direction which the vehicle afterwards +took. Suppose we had gone on, in a different form of hurry, ignorant of +these facts?” + +At this point I distinctly heard again the sound of a heavy animal in +the wood. Marquis also heard it and he plunged into the thick bushes. +Almost immediately we were at the spot, and before us some heavy object +turned in the leaves. + +Marquis whipped an electric-flash out of his pocket. The body of a man, +tied at the hands and heels behind with a hitching-strap, and with a +linen carriage lap-cloth wound around his head and knotted, lay there +endeavoring to ease the rigor of his position by some movement. + +We should now know, in a moment, what desperate thing had happened! + +I cut the strap, while Marquis got the lap-cloth unwound from about the +man's head. It was the driver of the cut-under. But we got no gain from +his discovery. As soon as his face was clear, he tore out of our grasp +and began to run. + +He took the old road to the westward of the island, where perhaps he +lived. We were wholly unable to stop him, and we got no reply to our +shouted queries except his wild cry for help. He considered us his +assailants from whom, by chance, he had escaped. It was folly to think +of coming up with the man. He was set desperately for the westward of +the island, and he would never stop until he reached it. + +We turned back into the road: + +Marquis' method now changed. He turned swiftly into the road along the +mountain which the cut-under had taken after its capture. + +I was at the extreme of a deadly anxiety about Madame Barras. + +It seemed to me, now, certain that some gang of criminals having +knowledge of the packet of money had waylaid the cut-under. Proud of my +conclusion, I put the inquiry to Sir Henry as we hurried along. If we +weren't too late! + +He stopped suddenly like a man brought up at the point of a bayonet. + +“My word!” He jerked the expression out through his tightened jaws. “Has +she got ninety thousand dollars of your money!” And he set out again in +his long stride. I explained briefly as I endeavored to keep his pace. +It was her own money, not mine, but she did in fact have that large sum +with her in the cut-under on this night. I gave him the story of the +matter, briefly, for I had no breath to spare over it. And I asked him +what he thought. Had a gang of thieves attacked the cut-under? + +But he only repeated his expression. + +“My word!... You got her ninety thousand dollars and let her drive +away with no eye on her!.... Such trust in the honesty of our fellow +creatures!... My word!” + +I had to admit the deplorable negligence, but I had not thought of any +peril, and I did not know that she carried the money with her until the +conversation with my sister. There was some excuse for me. I could not +remember a robbery on this island. + +Marquis snapped his jaws. + +“You'll remember this one!” he said. + +It was a ridiculous remark. How could one ever forget if this +incomparable creature were robbed and perhaps murdered. But were there +not some extenuating circumstances in my favor. I presented them as we +advanced; my sister and I lived in a rather protected atmosphere apart +from all criminal activities, we could not foresee such a result. I had +no knowledge of criminal methods. + +“I can well believe it,” was the only reply Marquis returned to me. + +In addition to my extreme anxiety about Madame Barras I began now to +realize a profound sense of responsibility; every one, it seemed, saw +what I ought to have done, except myself. How had I managed to overlook +it? It was clear to other men. Major Carrington had pointed it out to me +as I was turning away; and now here Sir Henry Marquis was expressing in +no uncertain words how negligent a creature he considered me--to permit +my guest, a woman, to go alone, at night, with this large sum of money. + +It was not a pleasant retrospect. Other men--the world--would scarcely +hold me to a lesser negligence than Sir Henry Marquis! + +I could not forbear, even in our haste, to seek some consolation. + +“Do you think Madame Barras has been hurt?” + +“Hurt!” he repeated. “How should Madame Barras be hurt?” + +“In the robbery,” I said. + +“Robbery!” and he repeated that word. “There has been no robbery!” + +I replied in some astonishment. + +“Really, Sir Henry! You but now assured me that I would remember this +night's robbery.” + +The drawl got back into his voice. + +“Ah, yes,” he said, “quite so. You will remember it.” + +The man was clearly, it seemed to me, so engrossed with the mystery +that it was idle to interrogate him. And he was walking with a devil's +stride. + +Still the pointed query of the affair pressed me, and I made another +effort. + +“Why did these assailants take Madame Barras on with them?” + +Marquis regarded me, I thought, with wonder. + +“The devil, man!” he said. “They couldn't leave her behind.” + +“The danger would be too great to them?” + +“No,” he said, “the danger would be too great to her.” + +At this moment an object before us in the road diverted our attention. +It was the cut-under and the horse. They were standing by the roadside +where it makes a great turn to enter the village from the south. There +is a wide border to the road at this point, clear of underbrush, where +the forest edges it, and there are here, at the whim of some one, or by +chance, two great flat stones, one lying upon the other, but not fitting +by a hand's thickness by reason of the uneven surfaces. + +What had now happened was evident. The assailants of the cut-under +had abandoned it here before entering the village. They could not, of +course, go on with this incriminating vehicle. + +The sight of the cut-under here had on Marquis the usual effect of any +important evidential sign. He at once ceased to hurry. He pulled up; +looked over the cut-under and the horse, and began to saunter about. + +This careless manner was difficult for me at such a time. But for +his assurance that Madame Barras, was uninjured it would have been +impossible. I had a blind confidence in the man although his expressions +were so absurdly in conflict. + +I started to go on toward the village, but as he did not follow I turned +back. Marquis was sitting on the flat stones with a cigarette in his +fingers: + +“Good heavens, man,” I cried, “you're not stopping to smoke a +cigarette?” + +“Not this cigarette, at any rate,” he replied. “Madame Barras has +already smoked it.... I can, perhaps, find you the burnt match.” + +He got the electric-flash out of his pocket, and stooped over. +Immediately he made an exclamation of surprise. + +I leaned down beside him. + +There was a little heap of charred paper on the brown bed of +pine-needles. Marquis was about to take up this charred paper when his +eye caught something thrust in between the two stones. It was a handful +of torn bits of paper. + +Marquis got them out and laid them on the top of the flat stones under +his light. + +“Ah,” he said, “Madame Barras, while she smoked, got rid of some money.” + +“The package of gold certificates!” I cried. “She has burned them?” + +“No,” he replied, “Madame Barras has favored your Treasury in her +destructive process. These are five-pound notes, of the Bank of +England.” + +I was astonished and I expressed it. + +“But why should Madame Barras destroy notes of the Bank of England?” + +“I imagine,” he answered, “that they were some which she had, by chance, +failed to give you for exchange.” + +“But why should she destroy them?” I went on. + +“I conclude,” he drawled, “that she was not wholly certain that she +would escape.” + +“Escape!” I cried. “You have been assuring me all along that Madame +Barras is making no effort to escape.” + +“Oh, no,” he replied, “she is making every effort.” + +I was annoyed and puzzled. + +“What is it,” I said, “precisely, that Madame Barras did here; can you +tell me in plain words?” + +“Surely,” he replied, “she sat here while something was decided, and +while she sat here she smoked the cigarette, and while she smoked the +cigarette, she destroyed the money. But,” he added, “before she had +quite finished, a decision was made and she hastily thrust the remaining +bits of the torn notes into the crevice between these stones.” + +“What decision?” I said. + +Marquis gathered up the bits of torn paper and put them into his pocket +with the switched-off flash. + +“I wish I knew that,” he said. + +“Knew what?” + +“Which path they have taken,” he replied; “there seem to be two +branching from this point, but they pass over a bed of pine-needles and +that retains no impression.... Where do these paths lead?” + +I did not know that any paths came into the road at this point. But the +island is veined over with old paths. The lead of paths here, however, +was fairly evident. + +“They must come out somewhere on the sea,” I said. + +“Right,” he cried. “Take either, and let's be off... Madame's cigarette +was not quite cold when I picked it up.” + +I was right about the direction of the paths but, as it happened, the +one Marquis took was nearly double the distance of the other to the sea; +and I have wondered always, if it was chance that selected the one taken +by the assailants of the cut-under as it was chance that selected the +one taken by us. + +Marquis was instantly gone, and I hurried along the path, running +nearly due east. There was light enough entering from the brilliant moon +through the tree-tops to make out the abandoned trail. + +And as I hurried, Marquis' contradicting expressions seemed to adjust +themselves into a sort of order, and all at once I understood what had +happened. The Brazilian adventurer had not taken the loss of his wife +and the fortune in English pounds sterling, lying down. He had followed +to recover them. + +I now saw clearly the reason for everything that had happened: the +attack on the driver, and my guest's concern to get rid of the English +money which she discovered remaining in her possession; this man would +have no knowledge of her gold certificates but he would be searching +for his English pounds. And if she came clear of any trace of these +five-pound notes, she might disclaim all knowledge of them and perhaps +send him elsewhere on his search, since it was always the money and not +the woman that he sought. + +This explanation was hardly realized before it was confirmed. + +I came out abruptly onto a slope of bracken, and before me at a few +paces on the path were Madame Barras and two men; one at some distance +in advance of her, disappearing at the moment behind a spur of the +slope that hid us from the sea, and I got no conception of him; but the +creature at her heels was a huge foreign beast of a man, in the dress of +a common sailor. + +What happened was over in a moment. + +I was nearly on the man when I turned out of the wood, and with a shout +to Madame Barras I struck at him with the heavy walking-stick. But the +creature was not to be taken unaware; he darted to one side, wrenched +the stick out of my hand, and dashed its heavy-weighted head into +my face. I went down in the bracken, but I carried with me into +unconsciousness a vision of Madame Barras that no shadow of the +lengthening years can blur. + +She had swung round sharply at the attack behind her, and she stood +bare-haired and bare-shouldered, knee-deep in the golden bracken, with +the glory of the moon on her; her arms hanging, her lips parted, her +great eyes wide with terror--as lovely in her desperate extremity as a +dream, as, a painted picture. I don't know how long I was down there, +but when I finally got up, and, following along the path behind the spur +of rock, came out onto the open sea, I found Sir Henry Marquis. He was +standing with his hands in the pockets of his loose tweed coat, and he +was cursing softly: + +“The ferry and the mainland are patroled... I didn't think of their +having an ocean-going yacht....” + +A gleam of light was disappearing into the open sea. + +He put his hand into his pocket and took out the scraps of torn paper. + +“These notes,” he said, “like the ones which you hold in your +bank-vault, were never issued by the Bank of England.” + +I stammered some incoherent sentence; and the great chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard turned toward me. + +“Do you know who that woman is?” + +“Surely,” I cried, “she went to school with my sister at Miss Page's; +she came to visit Mrs. Jordan....” + +He looked at me steadily. + +“She got the data about your sister out of the Back Bay biographies and +she used the accident of Mrs. Jordan's death to get in with it... the +rest was all fiction.” + +“Madame Barras?” I stuttered. “You mean Madame Barras?” + +“Madame the Devil,” he said. “That's Sunny Suzanne. Used to be in the +Hungarian Follies until the Soviet government of Austria picked her up +to place the imitation English money that its presses were striking off +in Vienna.” + + + + +IV. The Cambered Foot + + +I shall not pretend that I knew the man in America or that he was a +friend of my family or that some one had written to me about him. The +plain truth is that I never laid eyes on him until Sir Henry Marquis +pointed him out to me the day after I went down from here to London. It +was in Piccadilly Circus. + +“There's your American,” said Sir Henry. + +The girl paused for a few moments. There was profound silence. + +“And that isn't all of it. Nobody presented him to me. I deliberately +picked him up!” + +Three persons were in the drawing-room. An old woman with high +cheekbones, a bowed nose and a firm, thin-lipped mouth was the central +figure. She sat very straight in her chair, her head up and her hands in +her lap. An aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, stood +at a window looking out, his hands behind his back, his chin lifted as +though he were endeavoring to see something far away over the English +country--something beyond the little groups of Highland cattle and the +great oak trees. + +Beside the old woman, on a dark wood frame, there was a fire screen made +of the pennant of a Highland regiment. Beyond her was a table with +a glass top. Under this cover, in a sort of drawer lined with purple +velvet, there were medals, trophies and decorations visible below +the sheet of glass. And on the table, in a heavy metal frame, was +the portrait of a young man in the uniform of a captain of Highland +infantry. + +The girl who had been speaking sat in a big armchair by this table. +One knew instantly that she was an American. The liberty of manner, +the independence of expression, could not be mistaken in a country of +established forms. She had abundant brown hair skillfully arranged under +a smart French hat. Her eyes were blue; not the blue of any painted +color; it was the blue of remote spaces in the tropic sky. + +The old woman spoke without looking at the girl. + +“Then,” she said, “it's all quite as”--she hesitated for a +word--“extraordinary as we have been led to believe.” + +There was the slow accent of Southern blood in the girl's voice as she +went on. + +“Lady Mary,” she said, “it's all far more extraordinary than you have +been led to believe--than any one could ever have led you to believe. I +deliberately picked the man up. I waited for him outside the Savoy, and +pretended to be uncertain about an address. He volunteered to take me in +his motor and I went with him. I told him I was alone in London, at the +Ritz. It was Blackwell's bank I pretended to be looking for. Then we had +tea.” + +The girl paused. + +Presently she continued: “That's how it began: You're mistaken to +imagine that Sir Henry Marquis presented me to this American. It was the +other way about; I presented Sir Henry. I had the run of the Ritz,” she +went on. “We all do if we scatter money. Sir Henry came in to tea the +next afternoon. That's how he met Mr. Meadows. And that's the only place +he ever did meet him. Mr. Meadows came every day, and Sir Henry formed +the habit of dropping in. We got to be a very friendly party.” + +The motionless old woman, a figure in plaster until now, kneaded her +fingers as under some moving pressure. “At this time,” she said, “you +were engaged to Tony and expected to be his wife!” + +The girl's voice did not change. It was slow and even. “Yes,” she said. + +“Tony, of course, knew nothing about this?” + +“He knows nothing whatever about it unless you have written him.” + +Again the old woman moved slightly. “I have waited,” she said, “for the +benefit of your explanation. It seems as--as bad as I feared.” + +“Lady Mary,” said the girl in her slow voice, “it's worse than you +feared. I don't undertake to smooth it over. Everything that you have +heard is quite true. I did go out with the man in his motor, in the +evening. Sometimes it was quite dark before we returned. Mr. Meadows +preferred to drive at night because he was not accustomed to the English +rule of taking the left on the road, when one always takes the right in +America. He was afraid he couldn't remember the rule, so it was safer at +night and there was less traffic. + +“I shall not try to make the thing appear better than it was. We +sometimes took long runs. Mr. Meadows liked the high roads along the +east coast, where one got a view of the sea and the cold salt air. We +ran prodigious distances. He had the finest motor in England, the very +latest American model. I didn't think so much about night coming on, the +lights on the car were so wonderful. Mr. Meadows was an amazing driver. +We made express-train time. The roads were usually clear at night and +the motor was a perfect wonder. The only trouble we ever had was with +the lights. Sometimes one, of them would go out. I think it was bad +wiring. But there was always the sweep of the sea under the stars to +look at while Mr. Meadows got the thing adjusted.” + +This long, detailed, shameless speech affected the aged soldier at the +window. It seemed to him immodest bravado. And he suffered in his heart, +as a man old and full of memories can suffer for the damaged honor of a +son he loves. + +Continuing, the girl said: “Of course it isn't true that we spent +the nights touring the east coast of England in a racer. It was +dark sometimes when we got in--occasionally after trouble with the +lights--quite dark. We did go thundering distances.” + +“With this person, alone?” The old woman spoke slowly, like one +delicately probing at a wound. + +“Yes,” the girl admitted. “You see, the car was a roadster; only two +could go; and, besides, there was no one else. Mr. Meadows said he was +alone in London, and of course I was alone. When Sir Henry asked me to +go down from here I went straight off to the Ritz.” + +The old woman made a slight, shivering gesture. “You should have gone to +my sister in Grosvenor Square. Monte would have put you up--and looked +after you.” + +“The Ritz put me up very well,” the girl continued. “And I am accustomed +to looking after myself. Sir Henry thought it was quite all right.” + +The old woman spoke suddenly with energy and directness. “I don't +understand Henry in the least,” she said. “I was quite willing for you +to go to London when he asked me for permission. But I thought he would +take you to Monte's, and certainly I had the right to believe that he +would not have lent himself to--to this escapade.” + +“He seemed to be very nice about it,” the girl went on. “He came in to +tea with us--Mr. Meadows and me--almost every evening. And he always +had something amusing to relate, some blunder of Scotland Yard or some +ripping mystery. I think he found it immense fun to be Chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department. I loved the talk: Mr. Meadows was +always interested and Sir Henry likes people to be interested.” + +The old woman continued to regard the girl as one hesitatingly touches +an exquisite creature frightfully mangled. + +“This person--was he a gentleman?” she inquired. The girl answered +immediately. “I thought about that a good deal,” she said. “He had +perfect manners, quite Continental manners; but, as you say over here, +Americans are so imitative one never can tell. He was not young--near +fifty, I would say; very well dressed. He was from St. Paul; a London +agent for some flouring mills in the Northwest. I don't know precisely. +He explained it all to Sir Henry. I think he would have been glad of +a little influence--some way to meet the purchasing agents for the +government. He seemed to have the American notion that he could come to +London and go ahead without knowing anybody. Anyway, he was immensely +interesting--and he had a ripping motor.” + +The old man at the window did not move. He remained looking out over the +English country with his big, veined hands clasped behind his back. He +had left this interview to Lady Mary, as he had left most of the crucial +affairs of life to her dominant nature. But the thing touched him far +deeper than it touched the aged dowager. He had a man's faith in the +fidelity of a loved woman. + +He knew how his son, somewhere in France, trusted this girl, believed +in her, as long ago in a like youth he had believed in another. He knew +also how the charm of the girl was in the young soldier's blood, and +how potent were these inscrutable mysteries. Every man who loved a +woman wished to believe that she came to him out of the garden of a +convent--out of a roc's egg, like the princess in the Arabian story. + +All these things he had experienced in himself, in a shattered romance, +in a disillusioned youth, when he was young like the lad somewhere in +France. Lady Mary would see only broken conventions; but he saw immortal +things, infinitely beyond conventions, awfully broken. He did not move. +He remained like a painted picture. + +The girl went on in her soft, slow voice. “You would have disliked Mr. +Meadows, Lady Mary,” she said. “You would dislike any American who came +without letters and could not be precisely placed.” The girl's voice +grew suddenly firmer. “I don't mean to make it appear better,” she said. +“The worst would be nearer the truth. He was just an unknown American +bagman, with a motor car, and a lot of time on his hands--and I picked +him up. But Sir Henry Marquis took a fancy to him.” + +“I cannot understand Henry,” the old woman repeated. “It's +extraordinary.” + +“It doesn't seem extraordinary to me,” said the girl. “Mr. Meadows was +immensely clever, and Sir Henry was like a man with a new toy. The Home +Secretary had just put him in as Chief of the Criminal Investigation +Department. He was full of a lot of new ideas--dactyloscopic bureaus, +photographie mitrique, and scientific methods of crime detection. He +talked about it all the time. I didn't understand half the talk. But +Mr. Meadows was very clever. Sir Henry said he was a charming person. +Anybody who could discuss the whorls of the Galton finger-print tests +was just then a charming person to Sir Henry.” + +The girl paused a moment, then she went on + +“I suppose things had gone so for about a fortnight when your sister, +Lady Monteith, wrote that she had seen Sir Henry with us--Mr. Meadows +and me--in the motor. I have to shatter a pleasant fancy about that +chaperonage! That was the only time Sir Henry was ever with us. + +“It came about like this: It was Thursday morning about nine o'clock, +I think, when Sir Henry, popped in at the Ritz. He was full of some +amazing mystery that had turned up at Benton Court, a country house +belonging to the Duke of Dorset, up the Thames beyond Richmond. He +wanted to go there at once. He was fuming because an under secretary had +his motor, and he couldn't catch up with him. + +“I told him he could have 'our' motor. He laughed. And I telephoned Mr. +Meadows to come over and take him up. Sir Henry asked me to go along. +So that's how Lady Monteith happened to see the three of us crowded into +the seat of the big roadster.” + +The girl went on in her deliberate, even voice + +“Sir Henry was boiling full of the mystery. He got us all excited by the +time we arrived at Benton Court. I think Mr. Meadows was as keen about +the thing as Sir Henry. They were both immensely worked up. It was an +amazing thing!” + +“You see, Benton Court is a little house of the Georgian period. It +has been closed up for ages, and now, all at once, the most mysterious +things began to happen in it. + +“A local inspector, a very reliable man named Millson, passing that way +on his bicycle, saw a man lying on the doorstep. He also saw some one +running away. It was early in the morning, just before daybreak. + +“Millson saw only the man's back, but he could distinguish the color +of his clothes. He was wearing a blue coat and reddish-brown trousers. +Millson said he could hardly make out the blue coat in the darkness, but +he could distinctly see the reddish brown color of the man's trousers. +He was very positive about this. Mr. Meadows and Sir Henry pressed him +pretty hard, but he was firm about it. He could make out that the +coat was blue, and he could see very distinctly that the trousers were +reddish-brown. + +“But the extraordinary thing came a little later. Millson hurried to a +telephone to get Scotland Yard, then he returned to Benton Court; but +when he got back the dead man had disappeared. + +“He insists that he was not away beyond five minutes, but within that +time the dead man had vanished. Millson could find no trace of him. +That's the mystery that sent us tearing up there with Mr. Meadows and +Sir Henry transformed into eager sleuths. + +“We found the approaches to the house under a patrol from Scotland Yard. +But nobody had gone in. The inspector was waiting for Sir Henry.” + +The old man stood like an image, and the aged woman sat in her chair +like a figure in basalt. + +But the girl ran on with a sort of eager unconcern: “Sir Henry and Mr. +Meadows took the whole thing in charge. The door had been broken open. +They examined the marks about the fractures very carefully; then they +went inside. There were some naked footprints. They were small, as of a +little, cramped foot, and they seemed to be tracked in blood on the hard +oak floor. There was a wax candle partly burned on the table. And that's +all there was. + +“There were some tracks in the dust of the floor, but they were not very +clearly outlined, and Sir Henry thought nothing could be made of them. + +“It was awfully exciting. I went about behind the two men. Sir Henry +talked all the time. Mr. Meadows was quite as much interested, but he +didn't say anything. He seemed to say less as the thing went on. + +“They went over everything--the ground outside and every inch of the +house. Then they put everybody out and sat down by a table in the room +where the footprints were. + +“Sir Henry had been awfully careful. He had a big lens with which to +examine the marks of the bloody footprints. He was like a man on the +trail of a buried treasure. He shouted over everything, thrust his glass +into Mr. Meadows' hand and bade him verify what he had seen. His ardor +was infectious. I caught it myself. + +“Mr. Meadows, in his quiet manner, was just as much concerned in +unraveling the thing as Sir Henry. I never had so wild a time in all +my life. Finally, when Sir Henry put everybody else out and closed the +door, and the three of us sat down at the table to try to untangle the +thing, I very nearly screamed with excitement. Mr. Meadows sat with +his arms folded, not saying a word; but Sir Henry went ahead with his +explanation.” + +The girl looked like a vivid portrait, the soft colors of her gown and +all the cool, vivid extravagancies of youth distinguished in her. Her +words indicated fervor and excited energy; but they were not evidenced +in her face or manner. She was cool and lovely. One would have thought +that she recounted the inanities of a curate's tea party. + +The aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, remained in +his position at the window. The old woman sat with her implacable face, +unchanging like a thing insensible and inorganic. + +This unsympathetic aspect about the girl did not seem to disturb her. +She went on: + +“The thing was thrilling. It was better than any theater--the three of +us at the old mahogany table in the room, and the Scotland Yard patrol +outside. + +“Sir Henry was bubbling over with his theory. 'I read this riddle like a +printed page,' he said. 'It will be the work of a little band of expert +cracksmen that the Continent has kindly sent us. We have had some +samples of their work in Brompton Road. They are professional crooks +of a high order--very clever at breaking in a door, and, like all the +criminal groups that we get without an invitation from over the Channel, +these crooks have absolutely no regard for human life.' + +“That's the way Sir Henry led off with his explanation. Of course he had +all that Scotland Yard knew about criminal groups to start him right. +It was a good deal to have the identity of the criminal agents selected +out; but I didn't see how he was going to manage to explain the mystery +from the evidence. I was wild to hear him. Mr. Meadows was quite as +interested, I thought, although he didn't say a word. + +“Sir Henry nodded, as though he took the American's confirmation as a +thing that followed. 'We are at the scene,' he said, 'of one of the most +treacherous acts of all criminal drama. I mean the “doing in,” as our +criminals call it, of the unprofessional accomplice. It's a regulation +piece of business with the hard-and-fast criminal organizations of the +Continent, like the Nervi of Marseilles, or the Lecca of Paris. + +“'They take in a house servant, a shopkeeper's watchman, or a bank guard +to help them in some big haul. Then they lure him into some abandoned +house, under a pretense of dividing up the booty, and there put him out +of the way. That's what's happened here. It's a common plan with these +criminal groups, and clever of them. The picked-up accomplice would be +sure to let the thing out. For safety the professionals must “do him +in” at once, straight away after the big job, as a part of what the +barrister chaps call the res gestae.' + +“Sir Henry went on nodding at us and drumming the palm of his hand on +the edge of the table. + +“'This thing happens all the time,' he said, 'all about, where +professional criminals are at work. It accounts for a lot of mysteries +that the police cannot make head or tail of, like this one, for example. +Without our knowledge of this sinister custom, one could not begin or +end with an affair like this. + +“'But it's simple when one has the cue--it's immensely simple. We +know exactly what happened and the sort of crooks that were about the +business. The barefoot prints show the Continental group. That's the +trick of Southern Europe to go in barefoot behind a man to kill him.' + +“Sir Henry jarred the whole table with his big hand. The surface of the +table was covered with powdered chalk that the baronet had dusted over +it in the hope of developing criminal finger prints. Now under +the drumming of his palm the particles of white dust whirled like +microscopic elfin dancers. + +“'The thing's clear as daylight,' he went on: 'One of the professional +group brought the accomplice down here to divide the booty. He broke the +door in. They sat down here at this table with the lighted candle as you +see it. And while the stuff was being sorted out, another of the band +slipped in behind the man and killed him. + +“'They started to carry the body out. Millson chanced by. They got in a +funk and rushed the thing. Of course they had a motor down the road, +and equally of course it was no trick to whisk the body out of the +neighborhood.' + +“Sir Henry got half up on his feet with his energy in the solution of +the thing. He thrust his spread-out fingers down on the table like a +man, by that gesture, pressing in an inevitable, conclusive summing up.” + +The girl paused. “It was splendid, I thought. I applauded like an +entranced pit! + +“But Mr. Meadows didn't say a word. He took up the big glass we had used +about the inspection of the place, and passed it over the prints Sir +Henry was unconsciously making in the dust on the polished surface of +the table. Then he put the glass down and looked the excited baronet +calmly in the face. + +“'There,' cried Sir Henry, 'the thing's no mystery.' + +“For the first time Mr. Meadows opened his mouth. 'It's the profoundest +mystery I ever heard of,' he said. + +“Sir Henry was astonished. He sat down and looked across the table at +the man. He wasn't able to speak for a moment, then he got it out: 'Why +exactly do you say that?' + +“Mr. Meadows put his elbows on the table. He twiddled the big reading +glass in his fingers. His face got firm and decided. + +“'To begin with,' he said, 'the door to this house was never broken by +a professional cracksman. It's the work of a bungling amateur. A +professional never undertakes to break a door at the lock. Naturally +that's the firmest place about a door. The implement he intends to use +as a lever on the door he puts in at the top or bottom. By that means +he has half of the door as a lever against the resistance of the lock. +Besides, a professional of any criminal group is a skilled workman. He +doesn't waste effort. He doesn't fracture a door around the lock. This +door's all mangled, splintered and broken around the lock.'” + +“He stopped and looked about the room, and out through the window at the +Scotland Yard patrol. The features of his face were contracted with +the problem. One could imagine one saw the man's mind laboring at the +mystery. 'And that's not all,' he said. 'Your man Millson is not telling +the truth. He didn't see a dead body lying on the steps of this house; +and he didn't see a man running away.' + +“Sir Henry broke in at that. 'Impossible,' he said; 'Millson's a +first-class inspector, absolutely reliable. Why do you say that he +didn't see the dead man on the steps or the assassin running away?' + +“Mr. Meadows answered in the same even voice. 'Because there was never +any dead man here,' he said, 'for anybody to see. And because Millson's +'description of the man he saw is scientifically an impossible feat of +vision.' + +“Impossible?' cried Sir Henry. + +“'Quite impossible,' Mr. Meadows insisted. 'Millson tells us that the +man he saw running away in the night wore a blue coat and reddish-brown +trousers. He says he was barely able to distinguish the blue coat, but +that he could see the reddish-brown trousers very clearly. Now, as a +matter of fact, it has been very accurately determined that red is the +hardest color to distinguish at night, and blue the very easiest. A +blue coat would be clearly visible long after reddish-brown trousers had +become indistinguishable in the darkness.' + +“Sir Henry's under jaw sagged a little. 'Why, yes,' he said, 'that's +true; that's precisely true. Gross, at the University of Gratz, +determined that by experiment in 1912. I never thought about it!' + +“'There are some other things here that you have not, perhaps, precisely +thought about,' Mr. Meadows went on. + +“'For example, the things that happened in this room did not happen in +the night. They happened in the day.' + +“He pointed to the half-burned wax candle on the table. 'There's a +headless joiner's nail driven into the table,' he said, 'and this candle +is set down over the nail. That means that the person who placed it +there wished it to remain there--to remain there firmly. He didn't put +it down there for the brief requirements of a passing tragedy, he put it +there to remain; that's one thing. + +“'Another thing is that this candle thus firmly fastened on the table +was never alight there. If it had ever been burning in its position on +the table, some of the drops of melted wax would have fallen about it. + +“'You will observe that, while the candle is firmly fixed, it does not +set straight; it is inclined at least ten degrees out of perpendicular. +In that position it couldn't have burned for a moment without dripping +melted wax on the table. And there's none on the table; there has never +been any on it. Your glass shows not the slightest evidence of a wax +stain.' He added: 'Therefore the candle is a blind; false evidence to +give us the impression of a night affair.' + +“Sir Henry's jaw sagged; now his mouth gaped. 'True,' he said. 'True, +true.' He seemed to get some relief to his damaged deductions out of the +repeated word. + +“The irony in Mr. Meadows' voice increased a little. 'Nor is that all,' +he said. 'The smear on the floor, and the stains in which the naked +foot tracked, are not human blood. They're not any sort of blood. It +was clearly evident when you had your lens over them. They show no +coagulated fiber. They show only the evidences of dye--weak dye--watered +red ink, I'd say.' + +“I thought Sir Henry was going to crumple up in his chair. He seemed to +get loose and baggy in some extraordinary fashion, and his gaping jaw +worked. 'But the footprints,' he said, 'the naked footprints?' His voice +was a sort of stutter-the sort of shaken stutter of a man who has come +a' tumbling cropper. + +“The American actually laughed: he laughed as we sometimes laugh at a +mental defective. + +“'They're not footprints!' he said. 'Nobody ever had a foot cambered +like that, or with a heel like it, or with toes like it. Somebody made +those prints with his hand--the edge of his palm for the heel and the +balls of his fingers for the toes. The wide, unstained distances +between these heelprints and the prints of the ball of the toes show the +impossible arch.' + +“Sir Henry was like a man gone to pieces. 'But who--who made them?' he +faltered. + +“The American leaned forward and put the big glass over the prints that +Sir Henry had made with his fingers in the white dust on the mahogany +table. 'I think you know the answer to your question,' he said. 'The +whorls of these prints are identical with those of the toe tracks.' + +“Then he laid the glass carefully down, sat back in his chair, folded +his arms and looked at Sir Henry. + +“'Now,' he said, 'will you kindly tell me why you have gone to the +trouble of manufacturing all these false evidences of a crime?”' + +The girl paused. There was intense silence in the drawing-room. The aged +man at the window had turned and was looking at her. The face of the old +woman seemed vague and uncertain. + +The girl smiled. + +“Then,” she said, “the real, amazing miracle happened. Sir Henry got on +his feet, his big body tense, his face like iron, his voice ringing. + +“'I went to that trouble,' he said, 'because I wished to demonstrate--I +wished to demonstrate beyond the possibility of any error--that Mr. +Arthur Meadows, the pretended American from St. Paul, was in fact the +celebrated criminologist, Karl Holweg Leibnich, of Bonn, giving us the +favor of his learned presence while he signaled the German submarines +off the east coast roads with his high-powered motor lights.'” + +Now there was utter silence in the drawing-room but for the low of the +Highland cattle and the singing of the birds outside. + +For the first time there came a little tremor in the girl's voice. + +“When Sir Henry doubted this American and asked me to go down and make +sure before he set a trap for him, I thought--I thought, if Tony could +risk his life for England, I could do that much.” + +At this moment a maid appeared in the doorway, the trim, immaculate, +typical English maid. “Tea is served, my lady,” she said. + +The tall, fine old man crossed the room and offered his arm to the girl +with the exquisite, gracious manner with which once upon a time he had +offered it to a girlish queen at Windsor. + +The ancient woman rose as if she would go out before them. Then +suddenly, at the door, she stepped aside for the girl to pass, making +the long, stooping, backward curtsy of the passed Victorian era. + +“After you, my dear,” she said, “always!” + + + + +V. The Man in the Green Hat + + +“Alas, monsieur, in spite of our fine courtesies, the conception of +justice by one race must always seem outlandish to another!” + +It was on the terrace of Sir Henry Marquis' villa at Cannes. The +members of the little party were in conversation over their tobacco--the +Englishman, with his brier-root pipe; the American Justice, with a +Havana cigar; and the aged Italian, with his cigarette. The last was +speaking. + +He was a very old man, but he gave one the impression of incredible, +preposterous age. He was bald; he had neither eyebrows nor eyelashes. A +wiry mustache, yellow with nicotine, alone remained. Great wrinkles lay +below the eyes and along the jaw, under a skin stretched like parchment +over the bony protuberances of the face. + +These things established the aspect of old age; but it was the man's +expression and manner that gave one the sense of incalculable antiquity. +The eyes seemed to look out from a window, where the man behind them had +sat watching the human race from the beginning. And his manners had +the completion of one whose experience of life is comprehensive and +finished. + +“It seems strange to you, monsieur”--he was addressing, in French, the +American Justice--“that we should put our prisoners into an iron cage, +as beasts are exhibited in a circus. You are shocked at that. It strikes +you as the crudity of a race not quite civilized. + +“You inquire about it with perfect courtesy; but, monsieur, you inquire +as one inquires about a custom that his sense of justice rejects.” + +He paused. + +“Your pardon, monsieur; but there are some conceptions of justice in the +law of your admirable country that seem equally strange to me.” + +The men about the Count on the exquisite terrace, looking down over +Cannes into the arc of the sea, felt that the great age of this man gave +him a right of frankness, a privilege of direct expression, they +could not resent. Somehow, at the extremity of life, he seemed beyond +pretenses; and he had the right to omit the digressions by which younger +men are accustomed to approach the truth. + +“What is this strange thing in our law, Count?” said the American. + +The old man made a vague gesture, as one who puts away an inquiry until +the answer appears. + +“Many years ago,” he continued, “I read a story about the red Indians by +your author, Cooper. It was named 'The Oak Openings,' and was included, +I think, in a volume entitled Stories of the Prairie. I believe I have +the names quite right, since the author impressed me as an inferior +comer with an abundance of gold about him. In the story Corporal Flint +was captured by the Indians under the leadership of Bough of Oak, a +cruel and bloodthirsty savage. + +“This hideous beast determined to put his prisoner to the torture of the +saplings, a barbarity rivaling the crucifixion of the Romans. Two small +trees standing near each other were selected, the tops lopped off and +the branches removed; they were bent and the tops were lashed together. +One of the victim's wrists was bound to the top of each of the young +trees; then the saplings were released and the victim, his arms wrenched +and dislocated, hung suspended in excruciating agony, like a man nailed +to a cross. + +“It was fearful torture. The strain on the limbs was hideous, yet the +victim might live for days. Nothing short of crucifixion--that beauty of +the Roman law--ever equaled it.” + +He paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +“Corporal Flint, who seemed to have a knowledge of the Indian character, +had endeavored so to anger the Indians by taunt and invective that some +brave would put an arrow into his heart, or dash his brains out with a +stone ax. + +“In this he failed. Bough of Oak controlled his braves and Corporal +Flint was lashed to the saplings. But, as the trees sprang apart, +wrenching the man's arms out of their sockets, a friendly Indian, +Pigeonwing, concealed in a neighboring thicket, unable to rescue his +friend and wishing to save him from the long hours of awful torture, +shot Corporal Flint through the forehead. + +“Now,” continued the Count, “if there was no question about these facts, +and Bough of Oak stood for trial before any civilized tribunal on this +earth, do you think the laws of any country would acquit him of the +murder of Corporal Flint?” + +The whole company laughed. + +“I am entirely serious,” continued the Count. “What do you think? There +are three great nations represented here.” + +“The exigencies of war,” said Sir Henry Marquis, “might differentiate a +barbarity from a crime.” + +“But let us assume,” replied the Count, “that no state of war existed; +that it was a time of peace; that Corporal Flint was innocent of wrong; +and that Bough of Oak was acting entirely from a depraved instinct bent +on murder. In other words, suppose this thing had occurred yesterday in +one of the Middle States of the American Republic?” + +The American felt that this question was directed primarily to himself. +He put down his cigar and indicated the Englishman by a gesture. + +“Your great jurist, Sir James Stephen,” he began, “constantly reminds +us that the criminal law is a machine so rough and dangerous that we can +use it only with every safety device attached. + +“And so, Count,” he continued, to the Italian, “the administration of +the criminal law in our country may seem to you subject to delays and +indirections that are not justified. These abuses could be generally +corrected by an intelligent presiding judge; but, in part, they are +incidental to a fair and full investigation of the charge against the +prisoner. I think, however, that our conception of justice does not +differ from that of other nations.” + +The old Count shrugged his shoulders at the digression. + +“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I do not refer to the mere administration +of the criminal law in your country; though, monsieur, we have been +interested in observing its peculiarities in such notable examples as +the Thaw trials in New York, and the Anarchist cases in Chicago some +years ago. I believe the judge in the latter trial gave about one +hundred instructions on the subject of reasonable doubt--quite +intelligible, I dare say, to an American jury; but, I must confess, +somewhat beyond me in their metaphysical refinements. + +“I should understand reasonable doubt if I were uninstructed, but I do +not think I could explain it. I should be, concerning it, somewhat as +Saint Augustine was with a certain doctrine of the Church when he said: +'I do not know if you ask me; but if you do not ask me I know very +well.'” + +He paused and blew a tiny ring or smoke out over the terrace toward the +sea. + +“There was a certain poetic justice finally in that case,” he added. + +“The prisoners were properly convicted of the Haymarket murders,” said +the American Justice. + +“Ah, no doubt,” returned the Count; “but I was not thinking of that. +Following a custom of your courts, I believe, the judge at the end +of the trial put the formal inquiry as to whether the prisoners had +anything to say. Whereupon they rose and addressed him for six days!” + +He bowed. + +“After that, monsieur, I am glad to add, they were all very properly +hanged. + +“But, monsieur, permit me to return to my question: Do you think any +intelligent tribunal on this earth would acquit Bough of Oak of the +murder of Corporal Flint under the conditions I have indicated?” + +“No,” said the American. “It would be a cold-blooded murder; and in the +end the creature would be executed.” + +The old Count turned suddenly in his chair. + +“Yes,” he said, “in a Continental court, it is certain; but in America, +monsieur, under your admirable law, founded on the common law of +England?” + +“I am sure we should hang him,” replied the American. + +“Monsieur,” cried the old Count, “you have me profoundly puzzled.” + +It seemed to the little group on the terrace that they, and not the +Count, were indicated by that remark. He had stated a case about +which there could be no two opinions under any civilized conception of +justice. Sir Henry Marquis had pointed out the only element--a state of +war--which could distinguish the case from plain premeditated murder in +its highest degree. They looked to him for an explanation; but it did +not immediately arrive. + +The Count noticed it and offered a word of apology. + +“Presently--presently,” he said. “We have these two words in +Italian--sparate! and aspetate! Monsieur.” + +He turned to the American: + +“You do not know our language, I believe. Suppose I should suddenly call +out one of these words and afterward it should prove that a life hung +on your being able to say which word it was I uttered. Do you think, +monsieur, you could be certain? + +“No, monsieur; and so courts are wise to require a full explanation +of every extraordinary fact. George Goykovich, an Austrian, having no +knowledge of the Italian language, swore in the court of an American +state that he heard a prisoner use the Italian word sparate! and that he +could not be mistaken. + +“I would not believe him, monsieur, on that statement; but he explained +that he was a coal miner, that the mines were worked by Italians, and +that this word was called out when the coal was about to be shot down +with powder. + +“Ah, monsieur, the explanation is complete. George Goykovich must know +this word; it was a danger signal. I would believe now his extraordinary +statement.” + +The Count stopped a moment and lighted another cigarette. + +“Pardon me if I seem to proceed obliquely. The incident is related to +the case I approach; and it makes clear, monsieur, why the courts of +France, for example, permit every variety of explanation in a +criminal trial, while your country and the great English nation limit +explanations. + +“You do not permit hearsay evidence to save a man's life; with a fine +distinction you permit it to save only his character!” + +“The rule,” replied the American justice, “everywhere among +English-speaking people is that the best evidence of which the subject +is capable shall be produced. We permit a witness to testify only +to what he actually knows. That is the rule. It is true there are +exceptions to it. In some instances he may testify as to what he has +heard.” + +“Ah, yes,” replied the Count; “you will not permit such evidence to +take away a man's horse, but you will permit it to take away a +woman's reputation! I shall never be able to understand these delicate +refinements of the English law!” + +“But, Count,” suggested Sir Henry Marquis, “reputation is precisely that +what the neighborhood says about one.” + +“Pardon, monsieur,” returned the Count. “I do not criticize your +customs. They are doubtless excellent in every variety of way. I deplore +only my inability to comprehend them. For example, monsieur, why should +you hold a citizen responsible in all other cases only for what he does, +but in the case of his own character turn about and try him for what +people say he does? + +“Thus, monsieur, as I understand it, the men of an English village +could not take away my pig by merely proving that everybody said it was +stolen; but they could brand me as a liar by merely proving what the +villagers said! It seems incredible that men should put such value on a +pig.” + +Sir Henry Marquis laughed. + +“It is not entirely a question of values, Count.” + +“I beg you to pardon me, monsieur,” the Italian went on. “Doubtless, on +this subject I do nothing more than reveal an intelligence lamentably +inefficient; but I had the idea that English people were accustomed to +regard property of greater importance than life.” + +“I have never heard,” replied the Englishman, smiling, “that our courts +gave more attention to pigs than to murder.” + +“Why, yes, monsieur,” said the Count--“that is precisely what they have +been accustomed to do. It is only, I believe, within recent years that +one convicted of murder in England could take an appeal to a higher +court; though a controversy over pigs--or, at any rate, the pasture on +which they gathered acorns--could always be carried up.” + +The great age of the Count--he seemed to be the representative in the +world of some vanished empire--gave his irony a certain indirection. +Everybody laughed. And he added: “Even your word 'murder,' I believe, +was originally the name of a fine imposed by the Danes on a village +unless it could be proved that the person found dead was an Englishman! + +“I wonder when, precisely, the world began to regard it as a crime to +kill an Englishman?” + +The parchment on the bones of his face wrinkled into a sort of smile. +His greatest friend on the Riviera was this pipe-smoking Briton. + +Then suddenly, with a nimble gesture that one would not believe possible +in the aged, he stripped back his sleeve and exhibited a long, curiously +twisted scar, as though a bullet had plowed along the arm. + +“Alas, monsieur,” he said, “I myself live in the most primitive +condition of society! I pay a tribute for life.... Ah! no, monsieur; +it is not to the Camorra that I pay. It is quite unromantic. I think my +secretary carries it in his books as a pension to an indigent relative.” + +He turned to the American + +“Believe me, monsieur, my estates in Salerno are not what they were; the +olive trees are old and all drains on my income are a burden--even this +gratuity. I thought I should be rid of it; but, alas, the extraordinary +conception of justice in your country!” + +He broke the cigarette in his fingers, and flung the pieces over the +terrace. + +“In the great range of mountains,” he began, “slashing across the +American states and beautifully named the Alleghanies, there is a vast +measure of coal beds. It is thither that the emigrants from Southern +Europe journey. They mine out the coal, sometimes descending into the +earth through pits, or what in your language are called shafts, and +sometimes following the stratum of the coal bed into the hill. + +“This underworld, monsieur--this, sunless world, built underneath the +mountains, is a section of Europe slipped under the American Republic. +The language spoken there is not English. The men laboring in those +buried communities cry out sparate when they are about to shoot down the +coal with powder. It is Italy under there. There is a river called the +Monongahela in those mountains. It is an Indian name.” + +He paused. + +“And so, monsieur, what happened along it doubtless reminded me of +Cooper's story--Bough of Oak and the case of Corporal Flint.” + +He took another cigarette out of a box on the table, but he did not +light it. + +“In one of the little mining villages along this river with the +enchanting name there was a man physically like the people of the Iliad; +and with that, monsieur, he had a certain cast of mind not unHellenic. +He was tall, weighed two hundred and forty pounds, lean as a gladiator, +and in the vigor of golden youth. + +“There were no wars to journey after and no adventures; but there was +danger and adventure here. This land was full of cockle, winnowed out +of Italy, Austria and the whole south of Europe. It took courage and the +iron hand of the state to keep the peace. Here was a life of danger; +and this Ionian--big, powerful, muscled like the heroes of the Circus +Maximus--entered this perilous service. + +“Monsieur, I have said his mind was Hellenic, like his big, wonderful +body. Mark you how of heroic antiquity it was! It was his boast, among +the perils that constantly beset him, that no criminal should ever take +his life; that, if ever he should receive a mortal wound from the hand +of the assassins about him, he would not wait to die in agony by it. He +himself would sever the damaged thread of life and go out like a man! + +“Observe, monsieur, how like the great heroes of legend--like the +wounded Saul when he ordered his armor-bearer to kill him; like Brutus +when he fell on his sword!” + +He looked intently at the American. + +“Doubtless, monsieur,” he went on, “those near this man along the +Monongahela did not appreciate his attitude of grandeur; but to us, in +the distance, it seemed great and noble.” + +He looked out over the Mediterranean, where the great adventurers who +cherished these lofty pagan ideals once beat along in the morning of the +world. + +“On an afternoon of summer,” he continued like one who begins a saga, +“this man, alone and fearless, followed a violator of the law and +arrested him in a house of the village. As he led the man away he +noticed that an Italian followed. He was a little degenerate, wearing a +green hat, and bearing now one name and now another. They traversed the +village toward the municipal prison; and this creature, featured like a +Parisian Apache, skulked behind. + +“As they went along, two Austrians seated on the porch of a house heard +the little man speak to the prisoner. He used the word sparate. They did +not know what he meant, for he spoke in Italian; but they recognized +the word, for it was the word used in the mines before the coal was shot +down. The prisoner made his reply in Italian, which the Austrians did +not understand. + +“It seemed that this man who had made the arrest did not know Italian, +for he stopped and asked the one behind him whether the prisoner was his +brother. The man replied in the negative.” + +The Count paused, as though for an explanation. “What the Apache said +was: 'Shall I shoot him here or wait until we reach the ravine?' And the +prisoner replied: 'Wait until we come to the ravine.' + +“They went on. Presently they reached a sort of hollow, where the reeds +grew along the road densely and to the height of a man's head. Here the +Italian Apache, the degenerate with the green hat, following some three +steps behind, suddenly drew a revolver from his pocket and shot the man +twice in the back. It was a weapon carrying a lead bullet as large as +the tip of one's little finger. The officer fell. The Apache and the +prisoner fled. + +“The wounded man got up. He spread out his arms; and he shouted, with a +great voice, like the heroes of the Iliad. The two wounds were mortal; +they were hideous, ghastly wounds, ripping up the vital organs in the +man's body and severing the great arteries. The splendid pagan knew he +had received his death wounds; and, true to his atavistic ideal, the +ideal of the Greek, the Hebrew and the Roman, the ideal of the great +pagan world to which he in spirit belonged, and of which the poets sing, +he put his own weapon to his head and blew his brains out.” + +The old Count, his chin up, his withered, yellow face vitalized, lifted +his hands like one before something elevated and noble. After some +moments had passed he continued: + +“On the following day the assassin was captured in a neighboring +village. Feeling ran so high that it was with difficulty that the +officers of the law saved him from being lynched. He was taken about +from one prison to another. Finally he was put on trial for murder. + +“There was never a clearer case before any tribunal in this world. + +“Many witnesses identified the assassin--not merely English-speaking +men, who might have been mistaken or prejudiced, but Austrians, Poles, +Italians--the men of the mines who knew him; who had heard him cry out +the fatal Italian word; who saw him following in the road behind his +victim on that Sunday afternoon of summer; who knew his many names and +every feature of his cruel, degenerate face. There was no doubt anywhere +in the trial. Learned surgeons showed that the two wounds in the dead +man's back from the big-calibered weapon were deadly, fatal wounds that +no man could have survived. + +“There was nothing incomplete in that trial. + +“Everything was so certain that the assassin did not even undertake to +contradict; not one statement, not one word of the evidence against him +did he deny. It was a plain case of willful, deliberate and premeditated +murder. The judge presiding at the trial instructed the jury that a man +is presumed to intend that which he does; that whoever kills a human +being with malice aforethought is guilty of murder; that murder which is +perpetrated by any kind of willful, deliberate and premeditated killing +is murder in the first degree. The jury found the assassin guilty and +the judge sentenced him to be hanged.” + +The Count paused and looked at his companions about him on the terrace. + +“Messieurs,” he said, “do you think that conviction was just?” + +There was a common assent. Some one said: “It was a cruel murder if ever +there was one.” And another: “It was wholly just; the creature deserved +to hang.” + +The old Count bowed, putting out his hands. + +“And so I hoped he would.” + +“What happened?” said the American. + +The Count regarded him with a queer, ironical smile. + +“Unlike the great British people, monsieur,” he replied, “your courts +have never given the pig, or the pasture on which he gathers his acorns, +a consideration above the human family. The case was taken to your Court +of Appeals of that province.” + +He stopped and lighted his cigarette deliberately, with a match +scratched slowly on the table. + +“Monsieur,” he said, “I do not criticize your elevated court. It is +composed of learned men--wise and patriotic, I have no doubt. They +cannot make the laws, monsieur; they cannot coin a conception of justice +for your people. They must enforce the precise rules of law that the +conception of justice in your country has established. + +“Nevertheless, monsieur”--and his thin yellow lips curled--“for the sake +of my depleted revenues I could have wished that the decision of this +court had been other than it was.” + +“And what did it decide?” asked the American. + +“It decided, monsieur,” replied the Count, “that my estates in Salerno +must continue to be charged with the gratuity to the indigent relative. + +“That is to say, monsieur, it decided, because the great pagan did not +wait to die in agony, did not wait for the mortal wounds inflicted by +the would-be assassin to kill him, that interesting person--the man in +the green hat--was not guilty of murder in the first degree and could +not be hanged!” + + +Note--See State versus Angelina; 80 Southeastern Reporter, 141: “The +intervening responsible agent who wrongfully accelerates death is guilty +of the murder, and not the one who inflicted the first injury, though in +itself mortal.” + + + + +VI. The Wrong Sign + + +It was an ancient diary in a faded leather cover. The writing was fine +and delicate, and the ink yellow with age. Sir Henry Marquis turned the +pages slowly and with care for the paper was fragile. + +We had dined early at the Ritz and come in later to his great home in +St. James's Square. + +He wished to show me this old diary that had come to him from a branch +of his mother's family in Virginia--a branch that had gone out with a +King's grant when Virginia was a crown colony. The collateral ancestor, +Pendleton, had been a justice of the peace in Virginia, and a spinster +daughter had written down some of the strange cases with which her +father had been concerned. + +Sir Henry Marquis believed that these cases in their tragic details, and +their inspirational, deductive handling, equaled any of our modern time. +The great library overlooking St. James's Square, was curtained off from +London. Sir Henry read by the fire; and I listened, returned, as by some +recession of time to the Virginia of a vanished decade. The narrative of +the diary follows: + + +My father used to say that the Justice of God was sometimes swift and +terrible. He said we thought of it usually as remote and deliberate, a +sort of calm adjustment in some supernatural Court of Equity. But this +idea was far from the truth. He had seen the justice of God move on +the heels of a man with appalling swiftness; with a crushing force and +directness that simply staggered the human mind. I know the case he +thought about. + +Two men sat over a table when my father entered. One of them got up. He +was a strange human creature, when you stood and looked calmly at him. +You thought the Artificer had designed him for a priest of the church. +He had the massive features and the fringe of hair around his bald +head like a tonsure. At first, to your eye, it was the vestments of the +church, he lacked; then you saw that the lack was something fundamental; +something organic in the nature of the man. And as he held and +stimulated your attention you got a fearful idea, that the purpose for +which this human creature was shaped had been somehow artfully reversed! + +He was big boned and tall when he stood up. + +“Pendleton,” he said, “I would have come to you, but for my guest.” + +And he indicated the elegant young man at the table. + +“But I did not send you word to ride a dozen miles through the hills on +any trivial business, or out of courtesy to me. It is a matter of some +import, so I will pay ten eagles.” + +My father looked steadily at the man. + +“I am not for hire,” he said. + +My father was a justice of the peace in Virginia, under the English +system, by the theory of which the most substantial men in a county +undertook to keep the peace for the welfare of the State. Like +Washington in the service of the Colonial army, he took no pay. + +The big man laughed. + +“We are most of us for purchase, and all of us for hire,” he said. “I +will make it twenty!” + +The young man at the table now interrupted. He was elegant in the +costume of the time, in imported linen and cloth from an English loom. +His hair was thick and black; his eyebrows straight, his body and his +face rich in the blood and the vitalities of youth. But sensuality was +on him like a shadow. The man was given over to a life of pleasure. + +“Mr. Pendleton,” he said, with a patronizing pedantic air, “the +commonwealth is interested to see that litigation does not arise; and to +that end, I hope you will not refuse us the benefit of your experience. +We are about to draw up a deed of sale running into a considerable sum, +and we would have it court proof.” + +He made a graceful gesture with his jeweled hand. + +“I would be secure in my purchase, and Zindorf in his eagles, and you, +Sir, in the knowledge that the State will not be vexed by any suit +between us. Every contract, I believe, upon some theory of the law, is +a triangular affair with the State a party. Let us say then, that you +represent Virginia!” + +“In the service of the commonwealth,” replied my father coldly, “I am +always to be commanded.” + +The man flicked a bit of dust from his immaculate coat sleeve. + +“It will be a conference of high powers. I shall represent Eros; Mr. +Pendleton, Virginia; and Zindorf” and he laughed--“his Imperial Master!” + +And to the eye the three men fitted to their legend. The Hellenic God +of pleasure in his sacred groves might have chosen for his disciple one +from Athens with a face and figure like this youth. My father bore +the severities of the law upon him. And I have written how strange a +creature the third party to this conference was. + +He now answered with an oath. + +“You have a very pretty wit, Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said. “I add to my +price a dozen eagles for it.” + +The young man shrugged his shoulders in his English coat. + +“Smart money, eh, Zindorf... Well, it does not make me smart. It only +makes me remember that Count Augsburg educated you in Bavaria for the +Church and you fled away from it to be a slave trader in Virginia.” + +He got on his feet, and my father saw that the man was in liquor. He +was not drunken, but the effect was on him with its daring and its +indiscretions. + +It was an April morning, bright with sun. The world was white with apple +blossoms, the soft air entered through the great open windows. And my +father thought that the liquor in the man had come with him out of a +night of bargaining or revel. + +Morrow put his hands on the table and looked at Zindorf; then, suddenly, +the laughter in his face gave way to the comprehension of a swift, +striking idea. + +“Why, man,” he cried, “it's the devil's truth! Everything about you is a +negation! You ought to be a priest by all the lines and features of you; +but you're not... Scorch me, but you're not!” + +His voice went up on the final word as though to convey some impressive, +sinister discovery. + +It was true in every aspect of the man. The very clothes he wore, +somber, wool-threaded homespun, crudely patched, reminded one of the +coarse fabrics that monks affect for their abasement. But one saw, when +one remembered the characteristic of the man, that they represented here +only an extremity of avarice. + +Zindorf looked coldly at his guest. + +“Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said, “you will go on, and my price will go on!” + +But the young blood, on his feet, was not brought up by the monetary +threat. He looked about the room, at the ceiling, the thick walls. And, +like a man who by a sudden recollection confounds his adversary with an +overlooked illustrative fact, he suddenly cried out: + +“By the soul of Satan, you're housed to suit! Send me to the pit! It's +the very place for you! Eh! Zindorf, do you know who built the house you +live in?” + +“I do not, Mr. Lucian Morrow,” said the man. “Who built it?” + +One could see that he wished to divert the discourses of his guest. He +failed. + +“God built it!” cried Morrow. + +He put out his hands as though to include the hose. + +“Pendleton,” he said, “you will remember. The people built these walls +for a church. It burned, but the stone walls could not burn; they +remained overgrown with creeper. Then, finally, old Wellington Monroe +built a house into the walls for the young wife he was about to marry, +but he went to the coffin instead of the bride-bed, and the house +stood empty. It fell into the courts with the whole of Monroe's tangled +business and finally Zindorf gets it at a sheriff's sale.” + +The big man now confronted the young blood with decision. + +“Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said, “if you are finished with your fool talk, +I will bid you good morning. I have decided not to sell the girl.” + +The face of Morrow changed. His voice wheedled in an anxious note. + +“Not sell her, Zindorf!” he echoed. “Why man, you have promised her to +me all along. You always said I should have her in spite of your cursed +partner Ordez. You said you'd get her some day and sell her to me. +Now, curse it, Zindorf, I want her... I've got the money: ten thousand +dollars. It's a big lot of money. But I've got it. I've got it in gold.” + +He went on: + +“Besides, Zindorf, you can have the money, it'll mean more to you. But +it's the girl I want.” + +He stood up and in his anxiety the effect of the liquor faded out. + +“I've waited on your promise, Zindorf. You said that some day, when +Ordez was hard-pressed he would sell her for money, even if she was +his natural daughter. You were right; you knew Ordez. You have got an +assignment of all the slaves in possession, in the partnership, and +Ordez has cleared out of the country. I know what you paid for his +half-interest in this business, it's set out in the assignment. It was +three thousand dollars. + +“Think of it, man, three thousand dollars to Ordez for a wholesale, +omnibus assignment of everything. An elastic legal note of an assignment +that you can stretch to include this girl along with the half-dozen +other slaves that you have on hand here; and I offer you ten thousand +dollars for the girl alone!” + +One could see how the repetition of the sum in gold affected Zindorf. + +He had the love of money in that dominating control that the Apostle +spoke of. But the elegant young man was moved by a lure no less potent. +And his anxiety, for the time, suppressed the evidences of liquor. + +“I'll take the risk on the title, Zindorf. You and Ordez were partners +in this traffic. Ordez gives you a general assignment of all slaves on +hand for three thousand dollars and lights out of the country. He leaves +his daughter here among the others. And this general assignment can be +construed to include her. Her mother was a slave and that brings her +within the law. We know precisely who her mother was, and all about it. +You looked it up and my lawyer, Mr. Cable, looked it up. Her mother +was the octoroon woman, Suzanne, owned by old Judge Marquette in New +Orleans. + +“There may have been some sort of church marriage, but there's no legal +record, Cable says. + +“The woman belonged to Marquette, and under the law the girl is a slave. +You got a paper title out of Marquette's executors, privily, years +ago. Now you have this indefinite assignment by Ordez. He's gone to the +Spanish Islands, or the devil, or both. And if Mr. Pendleton can draw +a deed of sale that will stand in the courts between us, I'll take the +risk on the validity of my title.” + +He paused. + +“The law's sound on slaves, Judge Madison has a dozen himself, not all +black either; not three-eighths black!” and he laughed. + +Then he turned to my father. + +“Mr. Pendleton,” he said, “I persuaded Zindorf to send for you to draw +up this deed of sale. I have no confidence in the little practicing +tricksters at the county seat. They take a fee and, with premeditation, +write a word or phrase into the contract that leaves it open for a suit +at law.” + +He made a courteous bow, accompanied by a dancing master's gesture. + +“I do not offend you with the offer of a fee, but I present my gratitude +for the conspicuous courtesy, and I indicate the service to the +commonwealth of legal papers in form and court proof. May I hope, Sir, +that you will not deny us the benefit of your highly distinguished +service.” + +My father very slowly looked about him in calm reflection. + +He had ridden ten miles through the hills on this April morning, at +Zindorf's message sent the night before. The clay of the roads was still +damp and plastic from the recent rain. There were flecks of mud on him +and the splashing of the streams. + +He was a big, dominating man, in the hardened strength and experience +of middle life. He had come, as he believed, upon some service of the +state. And here was a thing for the little dexterities of a lawyer's +clerk. Everybody in Virginia, who knew my father, can realize how he was +apt to meet the vague message of Zindorf that got him in this house, and +the patronizing courtesies of Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +He was direct and virile, and while he feared God, like the great +figures in the Pentateuch, as though he were a judge of Israel enforcing +his decrees with the weapon of iron, I cannot write here, that at +any period of his life, or for any concern or reason, he very greatly +regarded man. + +He went over to the window and looked out at the hills and the road that +he had traveled. + +The mid-morning sun was on the fields and groves like a benediction. The +soft vitalizing air entered and took up the stench of liquor, the ash of +tobacco and the imported perfumes affected by Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +The windows in the room were long, gothic like a church, and turning +on a pivot. They ran into the ceiling that Monroe had built across the +gutted walls. The house stood on the crown of a hill, in a cluster of +oak trees. Below was the abandoned graveyard, the fence about it rotted +down; the stone slabs overgrown with moss. The four roads running into +the hills joined and crossed below this oak grove that the early people +had selected for a house of God. + +My father looked out on these roads and far back on the one that he had +traveled. + +There was no sound in the world, except the faint tolling of a bell in +a distant wood on the road. It was far off on the way to my father's +house, and the vague sound was to be heard only when a breath of wind +carried from that way. + +My father gathered his big chin, flat like a plowshare, into the trough +of his bronze hand. He stood for some moments in reflection, then he +turned to Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +“I think you are right,” he said. “I think this is a triangular affair +with the state a party. I am in the service of the state. Will you +kindly put the table by this window.” + +They thought he wished the air, and would thus escape the closeness of +the room. And while my father stood aside, Zindorf and his guest carried +the flat writing table to the window and placed a chair. + +My father sat down behind the table by the great open window, and looked +at Zindorf. + +The man moved and acted like a monk. He had the figure and the tonsured +head. His coarse, patched clothes cut like the homely garments of the +simple people of the day, were not wholly out of keeping to the part. +The idea was visualized about him; the simplicity and the poverty of the +great monastic orders in their vast, noble humility. All striking and +real until one saw his face! + +My father used to say that the great orders of God were correct in this +humility; for in its vast, comprehensive action, the justice of God +moved in a great plain, where every indicatory event was precisely +equal; a straw was a weaver's beam. + +God hailed men to ruin in his court, not with spectacular devices, but +by means of some homely, common thing, as though to abase and overcome +our pride. + +My father moved the sheets of foolscap, and tested the point of the +quill pen like one who considers with deliberation. He dipped the point +into the inkpot and slowly wrote a dozen formal words. + +Then he stopped and put down the pen. + +“The contests of the courts,” he said, “are usually on the question of +identity. I ought to see this slave for a correct description.” + +The two men seemed for a moment uncertain what to do. + +Then Zindorf addressed my father. + +“Pendleton,” he said, “the fortunes of life change, and the ideas suited +to one status are ridiculous in another. Ordez was a fool. He made +believe to this girl a future that he never intended, and she is under +the glamor of these fancies.” + +He stood in the posture of a monk, and he spoke each word with a clear +enunciation. + +“It is a very delicate affair, to bring this girl out of the +extravagances with which Ordez filled her idle head, and not be brutal +in it. We must conduct the thing with tact, and we will ask you, +Pendleton, to observe the courtesies of our pretension.” + +When he had finished, he flung a door open and went down a stairway. For +a time my father heard his footsteps, echoing, like those of a priest +in the under chambers of a chapel. Then he ascended, and my father was +astonished. + +He came with a young girl on his arm, as in the ceremony of marriage +sometimes the priest emerges with the bride. The girl was young and of a +Spanish beauty. She was all in white with blossoms in her hair. And +she was radiant, my father said, as in the glory of some happy +contemplation. There was no slave like this on the block in Virginia. +Young girls like this, my father had seen in Havana in the houses of +Spanish Grandees. + +“This is Mr. Pendleton, our neighbor,” Zindorf said. “He comes to offer +you his felicitations.” + +The girl made a little formal curtsy. + +“When my father returns,” she said in a queer, liquid accent, “he will +thank you, Meester Pendleton; just now he is on a journey.” + +And she gave her hand to Lucian Morrow to kiss, like a lady of the time. +Then Zindorf, mincing his big step, led her out. + +And my father stood behind the table in the enclosure of the window, +with his arms folded, and his chin lifted above his great black stock. +I know how my father looked, for I have seen him stand like that before +moving factors in great events, when he intended, at a certain cue, to +enter. + +He said that it was at this point that Mr. Lucian Morrow's early comment +on Zindorf seemed, all at once, to discover the nature of this whole +affair. He said that suddenly, with a range of vision like the great +figures in the Pentateuch, he saw how things right and true would work +out backward into abominations, if, by any chance, the virtue of God in +events were displaced! + +Zindorf returned, and as he stepped through the door, closing it +behind him, the far-off tolling of the bell, faint, eerie, carried by +a stronger breath of April air, entered through the window. My father +extended his arm toward the distant wood. + +“Zindorf,” he said, “do you mark the sign?” The man listened. + +“What sign?” he said. + +“The sign of death!” replied my father. + +The man made a deprecating gesture with his hands, “I do not believe in +signs,” he said. + +My father replied like one corrected by a memory. + +“Why, yes,” he said, “that is true. I should have remembered that. You +do not believe in signs, Zindorf, since you abandoned the sign of the +cross, and set these coarse patches on your knees to remind you not to +bend them in the sign of submission to the King of Kings.” + +The intent in the mended clothing was the economy of avarice, but my +father turned it to his use. + +The man's face clouded with anger. + +“What I believe,” he said, “is neither the concern of you nor another.” + +He paused with an oath. + +“Whatever you may believe, Zindorf,” replied my father, “the sound of +that bell is unquestionably a sign of death.” He pointed toward the +distant wood. “In the edge of the forest yonder is the ancient church +that the people built to replace the burned one here. It has been long +abandoned, but in its graveyard lie a few old families. And now and +then, when an old man dies, they bring him back to put him with his +fathers. This morning, as I came along, they were digging the grave for +old Adam Duncan, and the bell tolls for him. So you see,” and he looked +Zindorf in the face, “a belief in signs is justified.” + +Again the big man made his gesture as of one putting something of no +importance out of the way. + +“Believe what you like,” he said, “I am not concerned with signs.” + +“Why, yes, Zindorf,” replied my father, “of all men you are the very +one most concerned about them. You must be careful not to use the wrong +ones.” + +It was a moment of peculiar tension. + +The room was flooded with sun. The tiny creatures of the air droned +outside. Everywhere was peace and the gentle benevolence of peace. But +within this room, split off from the great chamber of a church, events +covert and sinister seemed preparing to assemble. + +My father, big and dominant, was behind the table, his great shoulders +blotting out the window. + +Mr. Lucian Morrow sat doubled in a chair, and Zindorf stood with the +closed door behind him. + +“You see, Zindorf,” he said, “each master has his set of signs. Most of +us have learned the signs of one master only. But you have learned the +signs of both. And you must be careful not to bring the signs of your +first master into the service of your last one.” + +The big man did not move, he stood with the door closed behind him, and +studied my father's face like one who feels the presence of a danger +that he cannot locate. + +“What do you mean?” he said. + +“I mean,” replied my father, “I mean, Zindorf, that each master has a +certain intent in events, and this intent is indicated by his set of +signs. Now the great purpose of these two masters, we believe, in all +the moving of events, is directly opposed. Thus, when we use a sign +of one of these masters, we express by the symbol of it the hope that +events will take the direction of his established purpose. + +“Don't you see then... don't you see, that we dare not use the signs of +one in the service of the other?” + +“Pendleton,” said the man, “I do not understand you.” + +He spoke slowly and precisely, like one moving with an excess of care. + +My father went on, his voice strong and level, his eyes on Zindorf. + +“The thing is a great mystery,” he said. “It is not clear to any of us +in its causes or its relations. But old legends and old beliefs, running +down from the very morning of the world, tell us--warn us, Zindorf--that +the signs of each of these masters are abhorrent to the other. Neither +will tolerate the use of his adversary's sign. Moreover, Zindorf, there +is a double peril in it.” + +And his voice rose. + +“There is the peril that the new master will abandon the blunderer for +the insult, and there is the peril that the old one will destroy him for +the sacrilege!” + +At this moment the door behind Zindorf opened, and the young girl +entered. She was excited and her eyes danced. + +“Oh!” she said, “people are coming on every road!” + +She looked, my father said, like a painted picture, her dark Castilian +beauty illumined by the pleasure in her interpretation of events. She +thought the countryside assembled after the manner of my father to +express its felicitations. + +Zindorf crossed in great strides to the window: Mr. Lucian Morrow, sober +and overwhelmed by the mystery of events about him, got unsteadily on +his feet, holding with both hands to the oak back of a chair. + +My father said that the tragedy of the thing was on him, and he acted +under the pressure of it. + +“My child,” he said, “you are to go to the house of your grandfather in +Havana. If Mr. Lucian Morrow wishes to renew his suit for your hand in +marriage, he will do it there. Go now and make your preparations for the +journey.” + +The girl cried out in pleasure at the words. + +“My grandfather is a great person in New Spain. I have always longed to +see him... father promised... and now I am to go ... when do we set out, +Meester Pendleton?” + +“At once,” replied my father, “to-day.” Then he crossed the room and +opened the door for her to go out. He held the latch until the girl was +down the stairway. Then he closed the door. + +The big man, falsely in his aspect, like a monk, looking out at the +far-off figures on the distant roads, now turned about. + +“A clever ruse, Pendleton,” he said, “We can send her now, on this +pretended journey, to Morrow's house, after the sale.” + +My father went over and sat down at the table. He took a faded silk +envelope out of his, coat, and laid it down before him. Then he answered +Zindorf. + +“There will be no sale,” he said. + +Mr. Lucian Morrow interrupted. + +“And why no sale, Sir?” + +“Because there is no slave to sell,” replied my father. “This girl is +not the daughter of the octoroon woman, Suzanne.” + +Zindorf's big jaws tightened. + +“How did you know that?” he said. + +My father answered with deliberation. + +“I would have known it,” he said, “from the wording of the paper you +exhibit from Marquette's executors. It is merely a release of any claim +or color of title; the sort of legal paper one executes when one gives +up a right or claim that one has no faith in. Marquette's executors were +the ablest lawyers in New Orleans. They were not the men to sign away +valuable property in a conveyance like that; that they did sign such a +paper is conclusive evidence to me that they had nothing--and knew they +had nothing--to release by it.” He paused. + +“I know it also,” he said, “because I have before me here the girl's +certificate of birth and Ordez's certificate of marriage.” + +He opened the silk envelope and took out some faded papers. He unfolded +them and spread them out under his hand. + +“I think Ordez feared for his child,” he said, “and stored these papers +against the day of danger to her, because they are copies taken from the +records in Havana.” + +He looked up at the astonished Morrow. + +“Ordez married the daughter of Pedro de Hernando. I find, by a note +to these papers, that she is dead. I conclude that this great Spanish +family objected to the adventurer, and he fled with his infant daughter +to New Orleans.” he paused. + +“The intrigue with the octoroon woman, Suzanne, came after that.” + +Then he added: + +“You must renew your negotiations, Sir, in, a somewhat different manner +before a Spanish Grandee in Havana!” + +Mr. Lucian Morrow did not reply. He stood in a sort of wonder. But +Zindorf, his face like iron, addressed my father: + +“Where did you get these papers, Pendleton?” he said. + +“I got them from Ordez,” replied my father. + +“When did you see Ordez?” + +“I saw him to-day,” replied my father. + +Zindorf did not move, but his big jaw worked and a faint spray of +moisture came out on his face. Then, finally, with no change or quaver +in his voice, he put his query. + +“Where is Ordez?” + +“Where?” echoed my father, and he rose. “Why, Zindorf, he is on his +way here.” And he extended his arm toward the open window. The big man +lifted his head and looked out at the men and horses now clearly visible +on the distant road. + +“Who are these people,” he said, “and why do they come?” He spoke as +though he addressed some present but invisible authority. + +My father answered him + +“They are the people of Virginia,” he said, “and they come, Zindorf, in +the purpose of events that you have turned terribly backward!” + +The man was in some desperate perplexity, but he had steel nerves and +the devil's courage. + +He looked my father calmly in the face. + +“What does all this mean?” he said. + +“It means, Zindorf,” cried my father, “it means that the very things, +the very particular things, that you ought to have used for the glory of +God, God has used for your damnation!” + +And again, in the clear April air, there entered through the open window +the faint tolling of a bell. + +“Listen, Zindorf! I will tell you. In the old abandoned church yonder, +when they came to toll the bell for Duncan, the rope fell to pieces; I +came along then, and Jacob Lance climbed into the steeple to toll the +bell by hand. At the first crash of sound a wolf ran out of a thicket +in the ravine below him, and fled away toward the mountains. Lance, from +his elevated point, could see the wolf's muzzle was bloody. That would +mean, that a lost horse had been killed or an estray steer. He called +down and we went in to see what thing this scavenger had got hold of.” + +He paused. + +“In the cut of an abandoned road we found the body of Ordez riddled with +buckshot, and his pockets rifled. But sewed up in his coat was the silk +envelope with these papers. I took possession of them as a Justice of +the Peace, ordered the body sent on here, and the people to assemble.” + +He extended his arm toward the faint, quivering, distant sound. + +“Listen, Zindorf,” he cried; “the bell began to toll for Duncan, but +it tolls now for the murderer of Ordez. It tolls to raise the country +against the assassin!” + +The false monk had the courage of his master. He stood out and faced my +father. + +“But can you find him, Pendleton,” he said. And his harsh voice was +firm. “You find Ordez dead; well, some assassin shot him and carried his +body into the cut of the abandoned road. But who was that assassin? Is +Virginia scant of murderers? Do you know the right one?” + +My father answered in his great dominating voice + +“God knows him, Zindorf, and I know him!... The man who murdered Ordez +made a fatal blunder... He used a sign of God in the service of the +devil and he is ruined!” + +The big man stepped slowly backward into the room, while my father's +voice, filling the big empty spaces of the house, followed after him. + +“You are lost, Zindorf! Satan is insulted, and God is outraged! You are +lost!” + +There was a moment's silence; from outside came the sound of men and +horses. The notes of the girl, light, happy, ascended from the lower +chamber, as she sang about her preparations for the journey. Zindorf +continued to step awfully backward. And Lucian Morrow, shaken and sober, +cried out in the extremity of fear: + +“In God's name, Pendleton, what do you mean; Zindorf, using a sign of +God in the service of the devil.” + +And my father answered him: + +“The corpse of Ordez lay in the bare cut of the abandoned road, and +beside it, bedded in the damp clay where he had knelt down to rifle the +pockets of the murdered body, were the patch prints of Zindorf's knees!” + + + + + +VII. The Fortune Teller + + +Sir Henry Marquis continued to read; he made no comment; his voice clear +and even. + + +It was a big sunny room. The long windows looked out on a formal garden, +great beech trees and the bow of the river. Within it was a sort of +library. There were bookcases built into the wall, to the height of a +man's head, and at intervals between them, rising from the floor to the +cornice of the shelves, were rows of mahogany drawers with glass knobs. +There was also a flat writing table. + +It was the room of a traveler, a man of letters, a dreamer. On the +table were an inkpot of carved jade, a paperknife of ivory with gold +butterflies set in; three bronze storks, with their backs together, held +an exquisite Japanese crystal. + +The room was in disorder--the drawers pulled out and the contents +ransacked. + +My father stood leaning against the casement of the window, looking out. +The lawyer, Mr. Lewis, sat in a chair beside the table, his eyes on the +violated room. + +“Pendleton,” he said, “I don't like this English man Gosford.” + +The words seemed to arouse my father out of the depths of some +reflection, and he turned to the lawyer, Mr. Lewis. + +“Gosford!” he echoed. + +“He is behind this business, Pendleton,” the lawyer, Mr. Lewis, went on. +“Mark my word! He comes here when Marshall is dying; he forces his way +to the man's bed; he puts the servants out; he locks the door. Now, +what business had this Englishman with Marshall on his deathbed? What +business of a secrecy so close that Marshall's son is barred out by a +locked door?” + +He paused and twisted the seal ring on his finger. + +“When you and I came to visit the sick man, Gosford was always here, as +though he kept a watch upon us, and when we left, he went always to this +room to write his letters, as he said. + +“And more than this, Pendleton; Marshall is hardly in his grave before +Gosford writes me to inquire by what legal process the dead man's papers +may be examined for a will. And it is Gosford who sends a negro riding, +as if the devil were on the crupper, to summon me in the name of the +Commonwealth of Virginia,--to appear and examine into the circumstances +of this burglary. + +“I mistrust the man. He used to hang about Marshall in his life, upon +some enterprise of secrecy; and now he takes possession and leadership +in his affairs, and sets the man's son aside. In what right, Pendleton, +does this adventurous Englishman feel himself secure?” + +My father did not reply to Lewis's discourse. His comment was in another +quarter. + +“Here is young Marshall and Gaeki,” he said. + +The lawyer rose and came over to the window. + +Two persons were advancing from the direction of the stables--a tall, +delicate boy, and a strange old man. The old man walked with a quick, +jerky, stride. It was the old country doctor Gaeki. And, unlike any +other man of his profession, he would work as long and as carefully on +the body of a horse as he would on the body of a man, snapping out his +quaint oaths, and in a stress of effort, as though he struggled with +some invisible creature for its prey. The negroes used to say that the +devil was afraid of Gaeki, and he might have been, if to disable a man +or his horse were the devil's will. But I think, rather, the negroes +imagined the devil to fear what they feared themselves. + +“Now, what could bring Gaeki here?” said Lewes. + +“It was the horse that Gosford overheated in his race to you,” replied +my father. “I saw him stop in the road where the negro boy was leading +the horse about, and then call young Marshall.” + +“It was no fault of young Marshall, Pendleton,” said the lawyer. “But, +also, he is no match for Gosford. He is a dilettante. He paints little +pictures after the fashion he learned in Paris, and he has no force or +vigor in him. His father was a dreamer, a wanderer, one who loved the +world and its frivolities, and the son takes that temperament, softened +by his mother. He ought to have a guardian.” + +“He has one,” replied my father. + +“A guardian!” repeated Lewis. “What court has appointed a guardian for +young Marshall?” + +“A court,” replied my father, “that does not sit under the authority of +Virginia. The helpless, Lewis, in their youth and inexperience, are not +wholly given over to the spoiler.” + +The boy they talked about was very young--under twenty, one would say. +He was blue-eyed and fair-haired, with thin, delicate features, which +showed good blood long inbred to the loss of vigor. He had the fine, +open, generous face of one who takes the world as in a fairy story. But +now there was care and anxiety in it, and a furtive shadow, as though +the lad's dream of life had got some rude awakening. + +At this moment the door behind my father and Lewis was thrown violently +open, and a man entered. He was a person with the manner of a barrister, +precise and dapper; he had a long, pink face, pale eyes, and a +close-cropped beard that brought out the hard lines of his mouth. He +bustled to the table, put down a sort of portfolio that held an inkpot, +a writing-pad and pens, and drew up a chair like one about to take the +minutes of a meeting. And all the while he apologized for his delay. +He had important letters to get off in the post, and to make sure, had +carried them to the tavern himself. + +“And now, sirs, let us get about this business,” he finished, like one +who calls his assistants to a labor: + +My father turned about and looked at the man. + +“Is your name Gosford?” he said in his cold, level voice. + +“It is, sir,” replied the Englishman, “--Anthony Gosford.” + +“Well, Mr. Anthony Gosford,” replied my father, “kindly close the door +that you have opened.” + +Lewis plucked out his snuffbox and trumpeted in his many-colored +handkerchief to hide his laughter. + +The Englishman, thrown off his patronizing manner, hesitated, closed the +door as he was bidden--and could not regain his fine air. + +“Now, Mr. Gosford,” my father went on, “why was this room violated as we +see it?” + +“It was searched for Peyton Marshall's will, sir,” replied the man. + +“How did you know that Marshall had a will?” said my father. + +“I saw him write it,” returned the Englishman, “here in this very room, +on the eighteenth day of October, 1854.” + +“That was two years ago,” said my father. “Was the will here at +Marshall's death?” + +“It was. He told me on his deathbed.” + +“And it is gone now?” + +“It is,” replied the Englishman. + +“And now, Mr. Gosford,” said my father, “how do you know this will is +gone unless you also know precisely where it was?” + +“I do know precisely where it was, sir,” returned the man. “It was +in the row of drawers on the right of the window where you stand--the +second drawer from the top. Mr. Marshall put it there when he wrote it, +and he told me on his deathbed that it remained there. You can see, sir, +that the drawer has been rifled.” + +My father looked casually at the row of mahogany drawers rising along +the end of the bookcase. The second one and the one above were open; the +others below were closed. + +“Mr. Gosford,” he said, “you would have some interest in this will, to +know about it so precisely.” + +“And so I have,” replied the man, “it left me a sum of money.” + +“A large sum?” + +“A very large sum, sir.” + +“Mr. Anthony Gosford,” said my father, “for what purpose did Peyton +Marshall bequeath you a large sum of money? You are no kin; nor was he +in your debt.” + +The Englishman sat down and put his fingers together with a judicial +air. + +“Sir,” he began, “I am not advised that the purpose of a bequest is +relevant, when the bequest is direct and unencumbered by the testator +with any indicatory words of trust or uses. This will bequeathes me a +sum of money. I am not required by any provision of the law to show the +reasons moving the testator. Doubtless, Mr. Peyton Marshall had reasons +which he deemed excellent for this course, but they are, sir, entombed +in the grave with him.” + +My father looked steadily at the man, but he did not seem to consider +his explanation, nor to go any further on that line. + +“Is there another who would know about this will?” he said. + +“This effeminate son would know,” replied Gosford, a sneer in the +epithet, “but no other. Marshall wrote the testament in his own hand, +without witnesses, as he had the legal right to do under the laws of +Virginia. The lawyer,” he added, “Mr. Lewis, will confirm me in the +legality of that.” + +“It is the law,” said Lewis. “One may draw up a holograph will if he +likes, in his own hand, and it is valid without a witness in this State, +although the law does not so run in every commonwealth.” + +“And now, sir,” continued the Englishman, turning to my father, “we will +inquire into the theft of this testament.” + +But my father did not appear to notice Mr. Gosford. He seemed perplexed +and in some concern. + +“Lewis,” he said, “what is your definition of a crime?” + +“It is a violation of the law,” replied the lawyer. + +“I do not accept your definition,” said my father. “It is, rather, I +think, a violation of justice--a violation of something behind the law +that makes an act a crime. I think,” he went on, “that God must take a +broader view than Mr. Blackstone and Lord Coke. I have seen a murder +in the law that was, in fact, only a kind of awful accident, and I have +seen your catalogue of crimes gone about by feeble men with no intent +except an adjustment of their rights. Their crimes, Lewis, were merely +errors of their impractical judgment.” + +Then he seemed to remember that the Englishman was present. + +“And now, Mr. Gosford,” he said, “will you kindly ask young Marshall to +come in here?” + +The man would have refused, with some rejoinder, but my father was +looking at him, and he could not find the courage to resist my father's +will. He got up and went out, and presently returned followed by the lad +and Gaeki. The old country doctor sat down by the door, his leather +case of bottles by the chair, his cloak still fastened under his chin. +Gosford went back to the table and sat down with his writing materials +to keep notes. The boy stood. + +My father looked a long time at the lad. His face was grave, but when he +spoke, his voice was gentle. + +“My boy,” he said, “I have had a good deal of experience in the +examination of the devil's work.” He paused and indicated the violated +room. “It is often excellently done. His disciples are extremely clever. +One's ingenuity is often taxed to trace out the evil design in it, and +to stamp it as a false piece set into the natural sequence of events.” + +He paused again, and his big shoulders blotted out the window. + +“Every natural event,” he continued, “is intimately connected with +innumerable events that precede and follow. It has so many serrated +points of contact with other events that the human mind is not able to +fit a false event so that no trace of the joinder will appear. The most +skilled workmen in the devil's shop are only able to give their false +piece a blurred joinder.” + +He stopped and turned to the row of mahogany drawers beside him. + +“Now, my boy,” he said, “can you tell me why the one who ransacked this +room, in opening and tumbling the contents of all the drawers, about, +did not open the two at the bottom of the row where I stand?” + +“Because there was nothing in them of value, sir,” replied the lad. + +“What is in them?” said my father. + +“Only old letters, sir, written to my father, when I was in +Paris--nothing else.” + +“And who would know that?” said my father. + +The boy went suddenly white. + +“Precisely!” said my father. “You alone knew it, and when you +undertook to give this library the appearance of a pillaged room, you +unconsciously endowed your imaginary robber with the thing you knew +yourself. Why search for loot in drawers that contained only old +letters? So your imaginary robber reasoned, knowing what you knew. But a +real robber, having no such knowledge, would have ransacked them lest he +miss the things of value that he searched for.” + +He paused, his eyes on the lad, his voice deep and gentle. + +“Where is the will?” he said. + +The white in the boy's face changed to scarlet. He looked a moment +about him in a sort of terror; then he lifted his head and put back his +shoulders. He crossed the room to a bookcase, took down a volume, opened +it and brought out a sheet of folded foolscap. He stood up and faced my +father and the men about the room. + +“This man,” he said, indicating Gosford, “has no right to take all my +father had. He persuaded my father and was trusted by him. But I did not +trust him. My father saw this plan in a light that I did not see it, +but I did not oppose him. If he wished to use his fortune to help our +country in the thing which he thought he foresaw, I was willing for him +to do it. + +“But,” he cried, “somebody deceived me, and I will not believe that it +was my father. He told me all about this thing. I had not the health +to fight for our country, when the time came, he said, and as he had +no other son, our fortune must go to that purpose in our stead. But my +father was just. He said that a portion would be set aside for me, and +the remainder turned over to Mr. Gosford. But this will gives all to Mr. +Gosford and leaves me nothing!” + +Then he came forward and put the paper in my father's hand. There was +silence except for the sharp voice of Mr. Gosford. + +“I think there will be a criminal proceeding here!” + +My father handed the paper to Lewis, who unfolded it and read it aloud. +It directed the estate of Peyton Marshall to be sold, the sum of fifty +thousand dollars paid to Anthony Gosford and the remainder to the son. + +“But there will be no remainder,” cried young Marshall. “My father's +estate is worth precisely that sum. He valued it very carefully, item by +item, and that is exactly the amount it came to.” + +“Nevertheless,” said Lewis, “the will reads that way. It is in legal +form, written in Marshall's hand, and signed with his signature, and +sealed. Will you examine it, gentlemen? There can be no question of the +writing or the signature.” + +My father took the paper and read it slowly, and old Gaeki nosed it over +my father's arm, his eyes searching the structure of each word, while +Mr. Gosford sat back comfortably in his chair like one elevated to a +victory. + +“It is in Marshall's hand and signature,” said my father, and old Gaeki, +nodded, wrinkling his face under his shaggy eyebrows. He went away still +wagging his grizzled head, wrote a memorandum on an envelope from his +pocket, and sat down in, his chair. + +My father turned now to young Marshall. + +“My boy,” he said, “why do you say that some one has deceived you?” + +“Because, sir,” replied the lad, “my father was to leave me twenty +thousand dollars. That was his plan. Thirty thousand dollars should be +set aside for Mr. Gosford, and the remainder turned over to me.” + +“That would be thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, instead of +fifty,” said my father. + +“Yes, sir,” replied the boy; “that is the way my father said he would +write his will. But it was not written that way. It is fifty thousand +dollars to Mr. Gosford, and the remainder to me. If it were thirty +thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, as my father, said his will would be, +that would have left me twenty thousand dollars from the estate; but +giving Mr. Gosford fifty thousand dollars leaves me nothing.” + +“And so you adventured on a little larceny,” sneered the Englishman. + +The boy stood very straight and white. + +“I do not understand this thing,” he said, “but I do not believe that my +father would deceive me. He never did deceive me in his life. I may have +been a disappointment to him, but my father was a gentle man.” His voice +went up strong and clear. “And I refuse to believe that he would tell me +one thing and do another!” + +One could not fail to be impressed, or to believe that the boy spoke the +truth. + +“We are sorry,” said Lewis, “but the will is valid and we cannot go +behind it.” + +My father walked about the room, his face in reflection. Gosford sat at +his ease, transcribing a note on his portfolio. Old Gaeki had gone back +to his chair and to his little case of bottles; he got them up on his +knees, as though he would be diverted by fingering the tools of his +profession. Lewis was in plain distress, for he held the law and its +disposition to be inviolable; the boy stood with a find defiance, +ennobled by the trust in his father's honor. One could not take his +stratagem for a criminal act; he was only a child, for all his twenty +years of life. And yet Lewis saw the elements of crime, and he knew that +Gosford was writing down the evidence. + +It was my father who broke the silence. + +“Gosford,” he said, “what scheme were you and Marshall about?” + +“You may wonder, sir,” replied the Englishman, continuing to write at +his notes; “I shall not tell you.” + +“But I will tell you,” said the boy. “My father thought that the states +in this republic could not hold together very much longer. He believed +that the country would divide, and the South set up a separate +government. He hoped this might come about without a war. He was in +horror of a war. He had traveled; he had seen nations and read their +history, and he knew what civil wars were. I have heard him say that men +did not realize what they were talking when they urged war.” + +He paused and looked at Gosford. + +“My father was convinced that the South would finally set up an +independent government, but he hoped a war might not follow. He believed +that if this new government were immediately recognized by Great +Britain, the North would accept the inevitable and there would be +no bloodshed. My father went to England with this scheme. He met Mr. +Gosford somewhere--on the ship, I think. And Mr. Gosford succeeded in +convincing my father that if he had a sum of money he could win over +certain powerful persons in the English Government, and so pave the way +to an immediate recognition of the Southern Republic by Great Britain. +He followed my father home and hung about him, and so finally got +his will. My father was careful; he wrote nothing; Mr. Gosford wrote +nothing; there is no evidence of this plan; but my father told me, and +it is true.” + +My father stopped by the table and lifted his great shoulders. + +“And so,” he said, “Peyton Marshall imagined a plan like that, and left +its execution to a Mr. Gosford!” + +The Englishman put down his pen and addressed my father. + +“I would advise you, sir, to require a little proof for your +conclusions. This is a very pretty story, but it is prefaced by an +admission of no evidence, and it comes as a special pleading for a +criminal act. Now, sir, if I chose, if the bequest required it, I could +give a further explanation, with more substance; of moneys borrowed by +the decedent in his travels and to be returned to me. But the will, sir, +stands for itself, as Mr. Lewis will assure you.” + +Young Marshall looked anxiously at the lawyer. + +“Is that the law, sir?” + +“It is the law of Virginia,” said Lewis, “that a will by a competent +testator, drawn in form, requires no collateral explanation to support +it.” + +My father seemed brought up in a cul-de-sac. His face was tense and +disturbed. He stood by the table; and now, as by accident, he put out +his hand and took up the Japanese crystal supported by the necks of the +three bronze storks. He appeared unconscious of the act, for he was +in deep reflection. Then, as though the weight in his hand drew his +attention, he glanced at the thing. Something about it struck him, for +his manner changed. He spread the will out on the table and began to +move the crystal over it, his face close to the glass. Presently his +hand stopped, and he stood stooped over, staring into the Oriental +crystal, like those practicers of black art who predict events from what +they pretend to see in these spheres of glass. + +Mr. Gosford, sitting at his ease, in victory, regarded my father with a +supercilious, ironical smile. + +“Sir,” he said, “are you, by chance, a fortuneteller?” + +“A misfortune-teller,” replied my father, his face still held above the +crystal. “I see here a misfortune to Mr. Anthony Gosford. I predict, +from what I see, that he will release this bequest of moneys to Peyton +Marshall's son.” + +“Your prediction, sir,” said Gosford, in a harder note, “is not likely +to come true.” + +“Why, yes,” replied my father, “it is certain to come true. I see it +very clearly. Mr. Gosford will write out a release, under his hand and +seal, and go quietly out of Virginia, and Peyton Marshall's son will +take his entire estate.” + +“Sir,” said the Englishman, now provoked into a temper, “do you enjoy +this foolery?” + +“You are not interested in crystal-gazing, Mr. Gosford,” replied my +father in a tranquil voice. “Well, I find it most diverting. Permit me +to piece out your fortune, or rather your misfortune, Mr. Gosford! +By chance you fell in with this dreamer Marshall, wormed into his +confidence, pretended a relation to great men in England; followed and +persuaded him until, in his ill-health, you got this will. You saw it +written two years ago. When Marshall fell ill, you hurried here, learned +from the dying man that the will remained and where it was. You +made sure by pretending to write letters in this room, bringing your +portfolio with ink and pen and a pad of paper. Then, at Marshall's +death, you inquired of Lewis for legal measures to discover the dead +man's will. And when you find the room ransacked, you run after the +law.” + +My father paused. + +“That is your past, Mr. Gosford. Now let me tell your future. I see you +in joy at the recovered will. I see you pleased at your foresight in +getting a direct bequest, and at the care you urged on Marshall to leave +no evidence of his plan, lest the authorities discover it. For I see, +Mr. Gosford, that it was your intention all along to keep this sum of +money for your own use and pleasure. But alas, Mr. Gosford, it was not +to be! I see you writing this release; and Mr. Gosford”--my father's +voice went up full and strong,--“I see you writing it in terror--sweat +on your face!” + +“The Devil take your nonsense!” cried the Englishman. + +My father stood up with a twisted, ironical smile. + +“If you doubt my skill, Mr. Gosford, as a fortune, or rather a +misfortune-teller I will ask Mr. Lewis and Herman Gaeki to tell me what +they see.” + +The two men crossed the room and stooped over the paper, while my father +held the crystal. The manner and the bearing of the men changed. They +grew on the instant tense and fired with interest. + +“I see it!” said the old doctor, with a queer foreign expletive. + +“And I,” cried Lewis, “see something more than Pendleton's vision. I see +the penitentiary in the distance.” + +The Englishman sprang up with an oath and leaned across the table. Then +he saw the thing. + +My father's hand held the crystal above the figures of the bequest +written in the body of the will. The focused lens of glass magnified +to a great diameter, and under the vast enlargement a thing that would +escape the eye stood out. The top curl of a figure 3 had been erased, +and the bar of a 5 added. One could see the broken fibers of the paper +on the outline of the curl, and the bar of the five lay across the top +of the three and the top of the o behind it like a black lath tacked +across two uprights. + +The figure 3 had been changed to 5 so cunningly is to deceive the eye, +but not to deceive the vast magnification of the crystal. The thing +stood out big and crude like a carpenter's patch. + +Gosford's face became expressionless like wood, his body rigid; then he +stood up and faced the three men across the table. + +“Quite so!” he said in his vacuous English voice. “Marshall wrote a 3 +by inadvertence and changed it. He borrowed my penknife to erase the +figure.” + +My father and Lewis gaped like men who see a penned-in beast slip out +through an unimagined passage. There was silence. Then suddenly, in the +strained stillness of the room, old Doctor Gaeki laughed. + +Gosford lifted his long pink face, with its cropped beard bringing out +the ugly mouth. + +“Why do you laugh, my good man?” he said. + +“I laugh,” replied Gaeki, “because a figure 5 can have so many colors.” + +And now my father and Lewis were no less astonished than Mr. Gosford. + +“Colors!” they said, for the changed figure in the will was black. + +“Why, yes,” replied the old man, “it is very pretty.” + +He reached across the table and drew over Mr. Gosford's memorandum +beside the will. + +“You are progressive, sir,” he went on; “you write in iron-nutgall ink, +just made, commercially, in this year of fifty-six by Mr. Stephens. But +we write here as Marshall wrote in 'fifty-four, with logwood.” + +He turned and fumbled in his little case of bottles. + +“I carry a bit of acid for my people's indigestions. It has other uses.” + He whipped out the stopper of his vial and dabbed Gosford's notes and +Marshall's signature. + +“See!” he cried. “Your writing is blue, Mr. Gosford, and Marshall's +red!” + +With an oath the trapped man struck at Gaeki's hand. The vial fell and +cracked on the table. The hydrochloric acid spread out over Marshall's +will. And under the chemical reagent the figure in the bequest of fifty +thousand dollars changed beautifully; the bar of the 5 turned blue, and +the remainder of it a deep purple-red like the body of the will. + +“Gaeki,” cried my father, “you have trapped a rogue!” + +“And I have lost a measure of good acid,” replied the old man. And he +began to gather up the bits of his broken bottle from the table. + + + + +VIII. The Hole in the Mahogany Panel + + +Sir Henry paused a moment, his finger between the pages of the ancient +diary. + +“It is the inspirational quality in these cases,” he said, “that +impresses me. It is very nearly absent in our modern methods of criminal +investigation. We depend now on a certain formal routine. I rarely find +a man in the whole of Scotland Yard with a trace of intuitive impulse to +lead him.... Observe how this old justice in Virginia bridged the gaps +between his incidents.” + +He paused. + +“We call it the inspirational instinct, in criminal investigation ... +genius, is the right word.” + +He looked up at the clock. + +“We have an hour, yet, before the opera will be worth hearing; listen to +this final case.” + +The narrative of the diary follows: + +The girl was walking in the road. Her frock was covered with dust. Her +arms hung limp. Her face with the great eyes and the exquisite mouth +was the chalk face of a ghost. She walked with the terrible stiffened +celerity of a human creature when it is trapped and ruined. + +Night was coming on. Behind the girl sat the great old house at the end +of a long lane of ancient poplars. + +This was a strange scene my father came on. He pulled up his big +red-roan horse at the crossroads, where the long lane entered the +turnpike, and looked at the stiff, tragic figure. He rode home from +a sitting of the county justices, alone, at peace, on this midsummer +night, and God sent this tragic thing to meet him. + +He got down and stood under the crossroads signboard beside his horse. + +The earth was dry; in dust. The dead grass and the dead leaves made +a sere, yellow world. It looked like a land of unending summer, but a +breath of chill came out of the hollows with the sunset. + +The girl would have gone on, oblivious. But my father went down into the +road and took her by the arm. She stopped when she saw who it was, and +spoke in the dead, uninflected voice of a person in extremity. + +“Is the thing a lie?” she said. + +“What thing, child?” replied my father. + +“The thing he told me!” + +“Dillworth?” said my father. “Do you mean Hambleton Dillworth?” + +The girl put out her free arm in a stiff, circling gesture. “In all the +world,” she said, “is there any other man who would have told me?” + +My father's face hardened as if of metal. “What did he tell you?” + +The girl spoke plainly, frankly, in her dead voice, without +equivocation, with no choice of words to soften what she said: + +“He said that my father was not dead; that I was the daughter of a +thief; that what I believed about my father was all made up to save the +family name; that the truth was my father robbed him, stole his best +horse and left the country when I was a baby. He said I was a burden on +him, a pensioner, a drone; and to go and seek my father.” + +And suddenly she broke into a flood of tears. Her face pressed against +my father's shoulder. He took her up in his big arms and got into his +saddle. + +“My child,” he said, “let us take Hambleton Dillworth at his word.” + +And he turned the horse into the lane toward the ancient house. The +girl in my father's arms made no resistance. There was this dominating +quality in the man that one trusted to him and followed behind him. She +lay in his arms, the tears wetting her white face and the long lashes. + +The moon came up, a great golden moon, shouldered over the rim of the +world by the backs of the crooked elves. The horse and the two persons +made a black, distorted shadow that jerked along as though it were a +thing evil and persistent. Far off in the thickets of the hills an owl +cried, eerie and weird like a creature in some bitter sorrow. The lane +was deep with dust. The horse traveled with no sound, and the distorted +black shadow followed, now blotted out by the heavy tree tops, and now +only partly to be seen, but always there. + +My father got down at the door and carried the girl up the steps and +between the plaster pillars into the house. There was a hall paneled +in white wood and with mahogany doors. He opened one of these doors and +went in. The room he entered had been splendid in some ancient time. +It was big; the pieces in it were exquisite; great mirrors and old +portraits were on the wall. + +A man sitting behind a table got up when my father entered. Four tallow +candles, in ancient silver sticks, were on the table, and some sheets +with figured accounts. + +The man who got up was like some strange old child. He wore a number of +little capes to hide his humped back, and his body, one thought, under +his clothes was strapped together. He got on his feet nimbly like a +spider, and they heard the click of a pistol lock as he whipped the +weapon out of an open drawer, as though it were a habit thus always to +keep a weapon at his hand to make him equal in stature with other men. +Then he saw who it was and the double-barreled pistol slipped out of +sight. He was startled and apprehensive, but he was not in fear. + +He stood motionless behind the table, his head up, his eyes hard, his +thin mouth closed like a trap and his long, dead black hair hanging on +each side of his lank face over the huge, malformed ears. The man stood +thus, unmoving, silent, with his twisted ironical smile, while my father +put the girl into a chair and stood up behind it. + +“Dillworth,” said my father, “what do you mean by turning this child out +of the house?” + +The man looked steadily at the two persons before him. + +“Pendleton,” he said, and he spoke precisely, “I do not recognize +the right of you, or any other man, to call my acts into account; +however”--and he made a curious gesture with his extended hands “not at +your command, but at my pleasure, I will tell you. + +“This young woman had some estate from her mother at that lady's death. +As her guardian I invested it by permission of the court's decree.” He +paused. “When the Maxwell lands were sold before the courthouse I bid +them in for my ward. The judge confirmed this use of the guardian funds. +It was done upon advice of counsel and within the letter of the law. Now +it appears that Maxwell had only a life interest in these lands; Maxwell +is dead, and one who has purchased the interest of his heirs sues in the +courts for this estate. + +“This new claimant will recover; since one who buys at a judicial sale, +I find, buys under the doctrine of caveat emptor--that is to say, at his +peril. He takes his chance upon the title. The court does not insure it. +If it is defective he loses both the money and the lands. And so,” he +added, “my ward will have no income to support her, and I decline to +assume that burden.” + +My father looked the hunchback in the face. “Who is the man bringing +this suit at law?” + +“A Mr. Henderson, I believe,” replied Dillworth, “from Maryland.” + +“Do you know him?” said my father. + +“I never heard of him,” replied the hunchback. + +The girl, huddled in the chair, interrupted. “I have seen letters,” she +said, “come in here with this man's return address at Baltimore written +on the envelope.” + +The hunchback made an irrelevant gesture. “The man wrote--to inquire +if I would buy his title. I declined.” Then he turned to my father. +“Pendleton,” he said, “you know about this matter. You know that every +step I took was legal. And with pains and care how I got an order out +of chancery to make this purchase, and how careful I was to have this +guardianship investment confirmed by the court. No affair was ever done +so exactly within the law.” + +“Why were you so extremely careful?” said my father. + +“Because I wanted the safeguard of the law about me at every step,” + replied the man. + +“But why?” + +“You ask me that, Pendleton?”' cried the man. “Is not the wisdom of my +precautions evident? I took them to prevent this very thing; to protect +myself when this thing should happen!” + +“Then,” said my father, “you knew it was going to happen.” + +The man's eyes slipped about a moment in his head. “I knew it was +going to happen that I would be charged with all sorts of crimes and +misdemeanors if there should be any hooks on which to hang them. Because +a man locks his door is it proof that he knows a robber is on the way? +Human foresight and the experience of men move prudent persons to a +reasonable precaution in the conduct of affairs.” + +“And what is it,” said my father, “that moves them to an excessive +caution?” + +The hunchback snapped his fingers with an exasperated gesture. “I will +not be annoyed by your big, dominating manner!” he cried. + +My father was not concerned by this defiance. “Dillworth,” he said, “you +sent this child out to seek her father. Well, she took the right road to +find him.” + +The hunchback stepped back quickly, his face changed. He sat down in +his chair and looked up at my father. There was here suddenly uncovered +something that he had not looked for. And he talked to gain time. + +“I have cast up the accounts in proper form,” he said while he studied +my father, his hand moving the figured sheets. “They are correct and +settled before two commissioners in chancery. Taking out my commission +as guardian, the amounts allowed me for the maintenance and education of +the ward, and no dollar of this personal estate remains.” + +His long, thin hand with the nimble fingers turned the sheets over on +the table as though to conclude that phase of the affair. + +“The real property,” he continued, “will return nothing; the purchase +money was applied on Maxwell's debts and cannot be followed. This new +claimant, Henderson, who has bought up the outstanding title, will take +the land.” + +“For some trifling sum,” said my father. + +The hunchback nodded slowly, his eyes in a study of my father's face. + +“Doubtless,” he said, “it was not known that Maxwell had only a life +estate in the lands, and the remainder to the heirs was likely purchased +for some slight amount. The language of the deeds that Henderson +exhibits in his suit shows a transfer of all claim or title, as though +he bought a thing which the grantees thought lay with the uncertainties +of a decree in chancery.” + +“I have seen the deeds,” said my father. + +“Then,” said the hunchback, “you know they are valid, and transfer the +title.” He paused. “I have no doubt that Mr. Henderson assembled these +outstanding interests at no great cost, but his conveyances are in form +and legal.” + +“Everything connected with this affair,” said my father, “is strangely +legal!” + +The hunchback considered my father through his narrow eyelids. + +“It is a strange world,” he said. + +“It is,” replied my father. “It is profoundly, inconceivably strange.” + +There was a moment of silence. The two men regarded each other across +the half-length of the room. The girl sat in the chair. She had got back +her courage. The big, forceful presence of my father, like the shadow +of a great rock, was there behind her. She had the fine courage of her +blood, and, after the first cruel shock of this affair, she faced the +tragedies that might lie within it calmly. + +Shadows lay along the walls of the great room, along the gilt frames of +the portraits, the empty fireplace, the rosewood furniture of ancient +make and the oak floor. Only the hunchback was in the light, behind the +four candles on the table. + +“It was strange,” continued my father over the long pause, “that your +father's will discovered at his death left his lands to you, and no acre +to your brother David.” + +“Not strange,” replied the hunchback, “when you consider what my brother +David proved to be. My father knew him. What was hidden from us, what +the world got no hint of, what the man was in the deep and secret places +of his heart, my father knew. Was it strange, then, that he should leave +the lands to me?” + +“It was a will drawn by an old man in his senility, and under your +control.” + +“Under my care,” cried the hunchback. “I will plead guilty, if you like, +to that. I honored my father. I was beside his bed with loving-kindness, +while my brother went about the pleasures of his life.” + +“But the testament,” said my father, “was in strange terms. It +bequeathed the lands to you, with no mention of the personal property, +as though these lands were all the estate your father had.” + +“And so they were,” replied the hunchback calmly. “The lands had been +stripped of horse and steer, and every personal item, and every dollar +in hand or debt owing to my father before his death.” The man paused +and put the tips of his fingers together. “My father had given to my +brother so much money from these sources, from time to time, that he +justly left me the lands to make us even.” + +“Your father was senile and for five years in his bed. It was you, +Dillworth, who cleaned the estate of everything but land.” + +“I conducted my father's business,” said the hunchback, “for him, since +he was ill. But I put the moneys from these sales into his hand and he +gave them to my brother.” + +“I have never heard that your brother David got a dollar of this money.” + +The hunchback was undisturbed. + +“It was a family matter and not likely to be known.” + +“I see it,” said my father. “It was managed in your legal manner and +with cunning foresight. You took the lands only in the will, leaving the +impression to go out that your brother had already received his share +in the personal estate by advancement. It was shrewdly done. But there +remained one peril in it: If any personal property should appear under +the law you would be required to share it equally with your brother +David.” + +“Or rather,” replied the hunchback calmly, “to state the thing +correctly, my brother David would be required to share any discovered +personal property with me.” Then he added: “I gave my brother David a +hundred dollars for his share in the folderol about the premises, and +took possession of the house and lands.” + +“And after that,” said my father, “what happened?” + +The hunchback uttered a queerly inflected expletive, like a bitter +laugh. + +“After that,” he answered, “we saw the real man in my brother David, as +my father, old and dying, had so clearly seen it. After that he turned +thief and fugitive.” + +At the words the girl in the chair before my father rose. She stood +beside him, her lithe figure firm, her chin up, her hair spun darkness. +The courage, the fine, open, defiant courage of the first women of the +world, coming with the patriarchs out of Asia, was in her lifted face. +My father moved as though he would stop the hunchback's cruel speech. +But she put her fingers firmly on his arm. + +“He has gone so far,” she said, “let him go on to the end. Let him omit +no word, let us hear every ugly thing the creature has to say.” + +Dillworth sat back in his chair at ease, with a supercilious smile. He +passed the girl and addressed my father. + +“You will recall the details of that robbery,” he said in his +complacent, piping voice. “My brother David had married a wife, like the +guest invited in the Scriptures. A child was born. My brother lived +with his wife's people in their house. One night he came to me to borrow +money.” + +He paused and pointed his long index finger through the doorway and +across the hall. + +“It was in my father's room that I received him. It did not please me to +put money into his hands. But I admonished him with wise counsel. He +did not receive my words with a proper brotherly regard. He flared up in +unmanageable anger. He damned me with reproaches, said I had stolen his +inheritance, poisoned his father's mind against him and slipped into the +house and lands. 'Pretentious and perfidious' is what he called me. I +was firm and gentle. But he grew violent and a thing happened.” + +The man put up his hand and moved it along in the air above the table. + +“There was a secretary beside the hearth in my father's room. It was an +old piece with drawers below and glass doors above. These doors had not +been opened for many years, for there was nothing on the shelves behind +them--one could see that--except some rows of the little wooden boxes +that indigo used to be sold in at the country stores.” + +The hunchback paused as though to get the details of his story precisely +in relation. + +“I sat at my father's table in the middle of the room. My brother David +was a great, tall man, like Saul. In his anger, as he gesticulated by +the hearth, his elbow crashed through the glass door of this secretary; +the indigo boxes fell, burst open on the floor, and a hidden store of my +father's money was revealed. The wooden boxes were full of gold pieces!” + +He stopped and passed his fingers over his projecting chin. + +“I was in fear, for I was alone in the house. Every negro was at a +distant frolic. And I was justified in that fear. My brother leaped on +me, struck me a stunning blow on the chest over the heart, gathered up +the gold, took my horse and fled. At daybreak the negroes found me on +the floor, unconscious. Then you came, Pendleton. The negroes had washed +up the litter from the hearth where the indigo about the coins in the +boxes had been shaken out.” + +My father interrupted: + +“The negroes said the floor had been scrubbed when they found you.” + +“They were drunk,” continued the hunchback with no concern. “And, does +one hold a drunken negro to his fact? But you saw for yourself the +wooden boxes, round, three inches high, with tin lids, and of a diameter +to hold a stack of golden eagles, and you saw the indigo still sticking +about the sides of these boxes where the coins had lain.” + +“I did,” replied my father. “I observed it carefully, for I thought the +gold pieces might turn up sometime, and the blue indigo stain might be +on them when they first appeared.” + +Dillworth leaned far back in his chair, his legs tangled under him, his +eyes on my father, in reflection. Finally he spoke. + +“You are far-sighted,” he said. + +“Or God is,” replied my father, and, stepping over to the table, he spun +a gold piece on the polished surface of the mahogany board. + +The hunchback watched the yellow disk turn and flit and wabble on its +base and flutter down with its tingling reverberations. + +“To-day, when I rode into the county seat to a sitting of the justices,” + continued my father, “the sheriff showed me some gold eagles that your +man from Maryland, Mr. Henderson, had paid in on court costs. Look, +Dillworth, there is one of them, and with your thumb nail on the milled +edge you can scrape off the indigo!” + +The hunchback looked at the spinning coin, but he did not touch it. His +head, with its long, straight hair, swung a moment uncertain between his +shoulders. Then, swiftly and with a firm grip, he took his resolution. + +“The coins appear,” he said. “My brother David must be in Baltimore +behind this suit.” + +“He is not in Baltimore,” said my father. + +“Perhaps you know where he is,” cried the hunchback, “since you speak +with such authority.” + +“I do know where he is,” said my father in his deep, level voice. + +The hunchback got on his feet slowly beside his chair. And the girl came +into the protection of my father's arm, her features white like plaster; +but the fiber in her blood was good and she stood up to face the thing +that might be coming. After the one long abandonment to tears in my +father's saddle she had got herself in hand. She had gone, like the +princes of the blood, through the fire, and the dross of weakness was +burned out. + +The hunchback got on his feet, in position like a duelist, his hard, +bitter face turned slantwise toward my father. + +“Then,” he said, “if you know where David is you will take his daughter +to him, if you please, and rid my house of the burden of her.” + +“We shall go to him,” said my father slowly, “but he shall not return to +us.” + +The hunchback's eyes blinked and bated in the candlelight. + +“You quote the Scriptures,” he said. “Is David in a grave?” + +“He is not,” replied my father. + +The hunchback seemed to advance like a duelist who parries the first +thrust of his opponent. But my father met him with an even voice. + +“Dillworth,” he said, “it was strange that no man ever saw your brother +or the horse after the night he visited you in this house.” + +“It was dark,” replied the man. “He rode from this door through the gap +in the mountains into Maryland.” + +“He rode from this door,” said my father slowly, “but not through the +gap in the mountains into Maryland.” + +The hunchback began to twist his fingers. + +“Where did he ride then? A man and a horse could not vanish.” + +“They did vanish,” said my father. + +“Now you utter fool talk!” cried Dillworth. + +“I speak the living truth,” replied my father. “Your brother David and +your horse disappeared out of sound and hearing--disappeared out of the +sight and knowledge of men--after he rode away from your door on that +fatal night.” + +“Well,” said the hunchback, “since my brother David rode away from my +door--and you know that--I am free of obligation for him.” + +“It is Cain's speech!” replied my father. + +The hunchback put back his long hair with a swift brush of the fingers +across his forehead. + +“Dillworth,” cried my father, and his voice filled the empty places of +the room, “is the mark there?” + +The hunchback began to curse. He walked around my father and the girl, +the hair about his lank jaws, his fingers working, his face evil. In +his front and menace he was like a weasel that would attack some larger +creature. And while he made the great turn of his circle my father, with +his arm about the girl, stepped before the drawer of the table where the +pistol lay. + +“Dillworth,” he said calmly, “I know where he is. And the mark you felt +for just now ought to be there.” + +“Fool!” cried the hunchback. “If I killed him how could he ride away +from the door?” + +“It was a thing that puzzled me,” replied my father, “when I stood in +this house on the morning of your pretended robbery. I knew what had +happened. But I thought it wiser to let the evil thing remain a mystery, +rather than unearth it to foul your family name and connect this child +in gossip for all her days with a crime.” + +“With a thief,” snarled the man. + +“With a greater criminal than a thief,” replied My father. “I was not +certain about this gold on that morning when you showed me the empty +boxes. They were too few to hold gold enough for such a motive. I +thought a quarrel and violent hot blood were behind the thing; and for +that reason I have been silent. But now, when the coins turn up, I see +that the thing was all ruthless, cold-blooded love of money. + +“I know what happened in that room. When your brother David struck the +old secretary with his elbow, and the dozen indigo boxes fell and burst +open on the hearth, you thought a great hidden treasure was uncovered. +You thought swiftly. You had got the land by undue influence on your +senile father, and you did not have to share that with your brother +David. But here was a treasure you must share; you saw it in a flash. +You sat at your father's table in the room. Your brother stood by the +wall looking at the hearth. And you acted then, on the moment, with the +quickness of the Evil One. It was cunning in you to select the body over +the heart as the place to receive the imagined blow--the head or face +would require some evidential mark to affirm your word. And it was +cunning to think of the unconscious, for in that part one could get up +and scrub the hearth and lie down again to play it.” + +He paused. + +“But the other thing you did in that room was not so clever. A picture +was newly hung on the wall--I saw the white square on the opposite wall +from which it had been taken. It hung at the height of a man's shoulders +directly behind the spot where your brother must have stood after he +struck the secretary, and it hung in this new spot to cover the crash of +a bullet into the mahogany panel!” + +My father stopped and caught up the hunchback's double-barreled pistol +out of the empty drawer. + +The room was now illumined; the moon had got above the tree tops and its +light slanted in through the long windows. The hunchback saw the thing +and he paused; his face worked in the fantastic light. + +“Yes,” continued my father, in his deep, quiet voice, “this is your +mistake to-night--to let me get your weapon. Your mistake that other +night was to shoot before you counted the money. It was only a few +hundred dollars. The dozen wooden boxes would hold no great sum. But the +thing was done, and you must cover it.” + +He paused. + +“And you did cover it--with fiendish cunning. It would not do for your +brother to vanish from your house, alone and with no motive. But if +he disappeared, with the gold to take him and a horse to ride, the +explanation would have solid feet to go on. I give you credit here for +the ingenuity of Satan. You managed the thing. You caused your brother +David and the horse to vanish. I saw, on that morning, the tracks of +the horse where you led him from the stable to the door, and his tracks +where you led him, holding the dead man in the saddle, from the door to +the ancient orchard where the grass grows over the fallen-down chimney +of your grandsire's house. And there, at your cunning, they wholly +vanished.” + +The mad courage in the hunchback got control, and he began to advance on +my father with no weapon and with no hope to win. His fingers crooked, +his body in a bow, his wizen, cruel face pallid in the ghostly light. + +“Dillworth,” cried my father, in a great voice, like one who would +startle a creature out of mania, “you will write a deed in your +legal manner granting these lands to your brother's child. And after +that”--his words were like the blows of a hammer on an anvil--“I will +give you until daybreak to vanish out of our sight and hearing--through +the gap in the mountains into Maryland on your horse, as you say your +brother David went, or into the abandoned cistern in the ancient orchard +where he lies under the horse that you shot and tumbled in on his +murdered body!” + +The moon was now above the gable of the house. The candles were burned +down. They guttered around the sheet of foolscap wet with the scrawls +and splashes of Dillworth's quill. My father stood at a window looking +out, the girl in a flood of tears, relaxed and helpless, in the +protection of his arm. + +And far down the long turnpike, white like an expanded ribbon, the +hunchback rode his great horse in a gallop, perched like a monkey, +his knees doubled, his head bobbing, his loose body rolling in the +saddle--while the black, distorted shadow that had followed my father +into this tragic house went on before him like some infernal messenger +convoying the rider to the Pit. + + + + +IX. The End of the Road + + +The man laughed. + +It was a faint cynical murmur of a laugh. Its expression hardly +disturbed the composition of his features. + +“I fear, Lady Muriel,” he said, “that your profession is ruined. Our +friend--'over the water'--is no longer concerned about the affairs of +England.” + +The woman fingered at her gloves, turning them back about the wrists. +Her face was anxious and drawn. + +“I am rather desperately in need of money,” she said. + +The cynicism deepened in the man's face. + +“Unfortunately,” he replied, “a supply of money cannot be influenced by +the intensity of one's necessity for it.” + +He was a man indefinite in age. His oily black hair was brushed +carefully back. His clothes were excellent, with a precise detail. +Everything about him was conspicuously correct in the English fashion. +But the man was not English. One could not say from what race he +came. Among the races of Southern Europe he could hardly have been +distinguished. There was a chameleon quality strongly dominant in the +creature. + +The woman looked up quickly, as in a strong aversion. + +“What shall you do?” she said. + +“I?” + +The man glanced about the room. There was a certain display within +the sweep of his vision. Some rugs of great value, vases and bronzes; +genuine and of extreme age. He made a careless gesture with his hands. + +“I shall explore some ruins in Syria, and perhaps the aqueduct which the +French think carried a water supply to the Carthage of Hanno. It will +be convenient to be beyond British inquiry for some years to come; and +after all, I am an antiquarian, like Prosper Merimee.” + +Lady Muriel continued to finger her gloves. They had been cleaned and +the cryptic marks of the shopkeeper were visible along the inner side of +the wrist hem. This was, to the woman, the first subterfuge of decaying +smartness. When a woman began to send her gloves to the laundry she +was on her way down. Other evidences were not entirely lacking in the +woman's dress, but they were not patent to the casual eye. Lady Muriel +was still, to the observer, of the gay top current in the London world. + +The woman followed the man's glance about the room. + +“You must be rich, Hecklemeir,” she said. “Lend me a hundred pounds.” + +The man laughed again in his queer chuckle. + +“Ah, no, my Lady,” he replied, “I do not lend.” Then he added. + +“If you have anything of value, bring it to me.... not information +from the ministry, and not war plans; the trade in such commodities is +ended.” + +It was the woman's turn to laugh. + +“The shopkeepers in Oxford Street have been before you, Baron.. .. I've +nothing to sell.” + +Hecklemeir smiled, kneading his pudgy hands. + +“It will be hard to borrow,” he said. “Money is very dear to the +Britisher just now--right against his heart.... Still.... perhaps one's +family could be thumb screwed......An elderly relative with no children +would be the most favorable, I think. Have you got such a relative +concealed somewhere in a nook of London? Think about it. If you could +recall one, he would be like a buried nut.” + +The man paused; then he added, with the offensive chuckling laugh: + +“Go to such an one, Lady Muriel. Who shall turn aside from virtue +in distress? Perhaps, in the whole of London, I alone have the +brutality--shall we call it--to resist that spectacle.” + +The woman rose. Her face was now flushed and angry. + +“I do not know of any form of brutality in which you do not excel, +Hecklemeir,” she said. “I have a notion to, go to Scotland Yard with the +whole story of your secret traffic.” + +The man continued to smile. + +“Alas, my Lady,” he replied, “we are coupled together. Scotland Yard +would hardly separate us.... you could scarcely manage to drown me and, +keep afloat yourself. Dismiss the notion; it is from the pit.” + +There was no virtue in her threat as the woman knew. Already her mind +was on the way that Hecklemeir had ironically suggested--an elderly +relative, with no children, from whom one might borrow,--she valued +the ramifications of her family, running out to the remote, withered +branches of that noble tree. She appraised the individuals and rejected +them. + +Finally her searching paused. + +There was her father's brother who had gone in for science--deciding +against the army and the church--Professor Bramwell Winton, the +biologist. He lived somewhere toward Covent Garden. + +She had not thought of him for years. Occasionally his name appeared in +some note issued by the museum, or a college at Oxford. + +For almost four years she had been relieved of this thought about one's +family. The one “over the water” for whom Hecklemeir had stolen the +Scottish toast to designate, had paid lavishly for what she could find +out. + +She had been richly, for these four years, in funds. + +The habit was established of dipping her hand into the dish. And now +to find the dish empty appalled her. She could not believe that it was +empty. She had come again, and again to this apartment above the shops +in Regent Street, selected for its safety of ingress; a modiste and a +hairdresser on either side of a narrow flight of steps. + +A carriage could stop here; one could be seen here. + +Even on the right, above, at the landing of the flight of steps Nance +Coleen altered evening gowns with the skill of one altering the plumage +of the angels. It must have cost the one “over the water” a pretty penny +to keep this whole establishment running through four years of war. + +She spoke finally. + +“Have you a directory of London, Hecklemeir?” + +The man had been watching her closely. + +“If it is Scotland Yard, my Lady,” he said, “you will not require a +direction. I can give you the address. It is on the Embankment, +near...” + +“Don't be a fool, Hecklemeir,” she interrupted, and taking the book from +his hands, she whipped through the pages, got the address she sought, +and went out onto the narrow landing and down the steps into Regent +Street: + +She took a hansom. + +With some concern she examined the contents of her purse. There was a +guinea, a half crown and some shillings in it--the dust of the bin. And +her profession, as Hecklemeir had said, was ended. + +She leaned over, like a man, resting her arms on the closed doors. + +The future looked troublous. Money was the blood current in the life she +knew. It was the vital element. It must be got. + +And thus far she had been lucky. + +Even in this necessity Bramwell Winton had emerged, when she could not +think of any one. He would not have much. These scientific creatures +never accumulated money, but he would have a hundred pounds. He had no +wife or children to scatter the shillings of his income. + +True these creatures spent a good deal on the absurd rubbish of their +hobbies. But they got money sometimes, not by thrift but by a sort of +chance. Had not one of them, Sir Isaac Martin, found the lost mines from +which the ancient civilization of Syria drew its supply of copper. And +Hector Bartlett, little more than a mummy in the Museum, had gone one +fine day into Asia and dug up the gold plates that had roofed a temple +of the Sun. + +He had been shown in the drawing rooms, on his return, and she had +stopped a moment to look him over--he was a sort of mummy. She was not +hoping to find Bramwell Winton one of these elect. But he was a hive +that had not been plundered. + +She reflected, sitting bent forward in the hansom, her face determined +and unchanging. She did not undertake to go forward beyond the hundred +pounds. Something would turn up. She was lucky... others had gone to +the tower; gone before the firing squad for lesser activities in +what Hecklemeir called her profession, but she had floated through... +carrying what she gleaned to the paymaster. Was it skill, or was she a +child of Fortune? + +And like every gambler, like every adventurer in a life of hazard, she +determined for the favorite of some immense Fatality. + +It was an old house she came to, built in the prehistoric age of London, +with thick, heavy walls, one of a row, deadly in its monotony. The row +was only partly tenanted. + +She dismissed the hansom and got out. + +It was a moment before she found the number. The houses adjoining on +either side were empty, the windows were shuttered. One might have +considered the middle house with the two, for its step was unscrubbed, +and it presented unwashed windows. + +It was a heavy, deep-walled structure like a monument. Even the +street in the vicinity was empty. If the biologist had been seeking an +undisturbed quarter of London, he had, beyond doubt, found it here. + +There was a bridged-over court before the house. Lady Muriel crossed. +She paused before the door. There had been a bell pull in the wall, but +the brass handle was broken and only the wire remained. + +She was uncertain whether one was supposed to pull this wire, and in +the hesitation she took hold of the door latch. To her surprise the door +yielded, and following the impulse of her extended hand, she went in. + +The hall was empty. There was no servant to be seen. And immediately the +domestic arrangement of the biologist were clear to her. They would be +that of one who had a cleaning woman in on certain days, and so lived +alone. She was not encouraged by this economy, and yet such a custom in +a man like Bramwell Winton might be habit. + +The scientist, in the popular conception, was not concerned with the +luxury of life--they were a rum lot. + +But the house was not empty. A smart hat and stick were in the rack and +from what should be a drawing room, above, there descended faintly the +sound of voices. + +It seemed ridiculous to Lady Muriel to go out and struggle with the +broken bell wire. She would go up, now that she had entered, and +announce herself, since, in any event, it must come to that. + +The heavy oak door closed without a sound, as it had opened. Lady Muriel +went up the stairway. She had nothing to put down. The only thing she +carried was a purse, and lest it should appear suggestive--as of one +coming with his empty wallet in his hand--she tucked the gold mesh into +the bosom of her jacket. + +The door to the drawing room was partly open, and as Lady Muriel +approached the top of the stair she heard the voices of two men in an +eager colloquy; a smart English accent from the world that she was so +desperately endeavoring to remain in, and a voice that paused and +was unhurried. But they were both eager, as I have written, as though +commonly impulsed by an unusual concern. + +And now that she was near, Lady Muriel realized that the conversation +was not low or under uttered. The smart voice was, in fact, loud and +incisive. It was the heavy house that reduced the sounds. In fact, the +conversation was keyed up. The two men were excited about something. + +A sentence arrested the woman's advancing feet. + +“My word! Bramwell, if some one should go there and bring the things +out, he would make a fortune, and would be famous. Nobody ever believed +these stories.” + +“There was Le Petit, Sir Godfrey,” replied the deliberate voice. “He +declared over his signature that he had seen them.” + +“But who believed Le Petit,” continued the other. “The world took him +to be a French imaginist like Chateaubriand... who the devil, Bramwell, +supposed there was any truth in this old story? But by gad, sir, it's +true! The water color shows it, and if you turn it over you will see +that the map on the back of it gives the exact location of the spot. +It's all exact work, even the fine lines of the map have the bearings +indicated. The man who made that water color, and the drawing on the +back of it, had been on the spot. + +“Of course, we don't know conclusively who made it. Tony had gone in +from the West coast after big game, and he found the thing put up as +a sort of fetish in a devil house. It was one of the tribes near the +Karamajo range. As I told you, we have only Tony's diary for it. I found +the thing among his effects after he was killed in Flanders. It's pretty +certain Tony did not understand the water color. There was only this +single entry in the diary about how he found it, and a query in pencil. + +“My word! if he had understood the water color, he would have beaten +over every foot of Africa to Lake Leopold. And it would have been the +biggest find of his time. Gad! what a splash he'd have made! But he +never had any luck, the beggar... stopped a German bullet in the first +week out. + +“Now, how the devil, Bramwell, do you suppose that water color got into +a native medicine house?” + +The reflective voice replied slowly. + +“I've thought about the thing, Sir Godfrey. It must have been the work +of the Holland explorer, Maartin. He was all about in Africa, and he +died in there somewhere, at least he never came out... that was ten +years ago. I've looked him up, and I find that he could do a water +color--in fact there's a collection of his water colors in, the Dutch +museum. They're very fine work, like this one; exquisite, I'd say. The +fellow was born an artist. + +“How it got into the hands of a native devil doctor is not difficult +to imagine. The sleeping sickness may have wiped Maartin out, or the +natives may have rushed his camp some morning, or he may have been +mauled by a beast. Any article of a white man is medicine stuff you +know. When you first showed me the thing I was puzzled. I knew what +it was because I had read Le Petit's pretension... I can't call it a +pretension now; the things are there whether he saw them or not. + +“I think he did not see them. But it is certain from this water color +that some one did; and Maartin is the only explorer that could have done +such a color. As soon as I thought of Maartin I knew the thing could +have been done by no other.” + +Lady Muriel had remained motionless on the stair. The door to the +drawing room, before her, was partly open. She stepped in to the angle +of the wall and drew the door slowly back until it covered this angle in +which she stood. + +She was rich in such experiences, for her success had depended, not a +little, on overhearing what was being said. Through the crack of the +door the whole interior of the room was visible. + +Sir Godfrey Halleck, a little dapper man, was sitting across the table +from Bramwell Winton. His elbows were on the table, and he was looking +eagerly at the biologist. Bramwell Winton had in his hands the thing +under discussion. + +It seemed to be a piece of cardboard or heavy paper about six inches in +length by, perhaps, four in width. Lady Muriel could not see what was +drawn or painted on this paper. But the heart in her bosom quickened. +She had chanced on the spoor of something worth while. + +The little dapper man flung his head up. + +“Oh, it's certain, Bramwell; it's beyond any question now. My word! +If Tony were only alive, or I twenty years younger! It's no great +undertaking, to go in to the Karamajo Mountains. One could start from +the West Coast, unship any place and pick up a bunch of natives. The map +on the back of the water color is accurate. The man who made that knew +how to travel in an unknown country. He must have had a theodolite and +the very best equipment. Anybody could follow that map.” + +There was a battered old dispatch box on the table beside Sir Godfrey's +arm--one that had seen rough service. + +“Of course,” he went on, “we don't know when Tony picked up this +drawing. It was in this box here with his diary, an automatic pistol and +some quinine. The date of the diary entry is the only clue. That would +indicate that he was near the Karamajo range at the time, not far from +the spot.” + +He snapped his fingers. + +“What damned luck!” + +He clinched his hands and brought them down on the table. + +“I'm nearly seventy, Bramwell, but you're ten years under that. You +could go in. No one need know the object of your expedition. Hector +Bartlett didn't tell the whole of England when he went out to Syria for +the gold plates. A scientist can go anywhere. No one wonders what he is +about. It wouldn't take three months. And the climate isn't poisonous. I +think it's mostly high ground. Tony didn't complain about it.” + +The biologist answered without looking up. + +“I haven't got the money, Sir Godfrey.” + +The dapper little man jerked his head as over a triviality. + +“I'll stake you. It wouldn't cost above five hundred pounds.” + +The biologist sat back in his chair, at the words, and looked over the +table at his guest. + +“That's awfully decent of you, Godfrey,” he said, “and I'd go if I saw a +way to get your money to you if anything happened.” + +“Damn the money!” cried the other. + +The biologist smiled. + +“Well,” he said, “let me think about it. I could probably fix up some +sort of insurance. Lloyd's will bet nearly any sane man that he won't +die for three months. And besides I should wish to look things up a +little.” + +Sir Godfrey rose. + +“Oh, to be sure,” he said, “you want to make certain about the thing. We +might be wrong. I hadn't an idea what it was until I brought it to you, +and of course Tony hadn't an idea. Make certain of it by all means.” + +The biologist extended his long legs under the table. He indicated the +water color in his hand. + +“This thing's certain,” he said. “I know what this thing is.” + +He rapped the water color with the fingers of his free hand. + +“This thing was painted on the spot. Maartin was looking at this thing +when he painted it. You can see the big shadows underneath. No living +creature could have imagined this or painted it from hearsay. He had to +see it. And he did see it. I wasn't thinking about this, Godfrey. I was +thinking the Dutch government might help a bit in the hope of finding +some trace of Maartin and I should wish to examine any information they +might have about him.” + +“Damn the Dutch government!” cried the little man. “And damn Lloyd's. We +will go it on our own hook.” + +The biologist smiled. + +“Let me think about it, a little,” he said. + +The dapper man flipped a big watch out of his waistcoat pocket. + +“Surely!” he cried, “I must get the next train up. Have you got a place +to lock the stuff? I had to cut this lid open with a chisel.” + +He indicated the tin dispatch box. + +“Better keep it all. You'll want to run through the diary, I imagine. +Tony's got down the things explorer chaps are always keen about; +temperature, water supply, food and all that..... Now, I'm off. See you +Thursday afternoon at the United Service Club. Better lunch with me.” + +Then he pushed the dispatch box across the table. The biologist rose and +turned back the lid of the box. The contents remained as Sir Godfrey's +dead son had left them; a limp leather diary, an automatic pistol of +some American make, a few glass tubes of quinine, packed in cotton wool. + +He put the water color on the bottom of the box and replaced them. + +Then he took the dispatch box over to an old iron safe at the farther +end of the room, opened it, set the box within, locked the door, and, +returning, thrust the key under a pile of journals on the corner of the +table. Then he went out, and down the stairway with his guest to the +door. + +They passed within a finger touch of Lady Muriel. + +The woman was quick to act. There would be no borrowing from Bramwell +Winton. He would now, with this expedition on the way, have no penny for +another. But here before her, as though arranged by favor of Fatality, +was something evidently of enormous value that she could cash in to +Hecklemeir. + +There was fame and fortune on the bottom of that dispatch box. + +Something that would have been the greatest find of the age to Tony +Halleck... something that the biologist, clearly from his words and +manner, valued beyond the gold plates of Sir Hector Bartlett. + +It was a thing that Hecklemeir would buy with money... the very thing +which he would be at this opportune moment interested to purchase. She +saw it in the very first comprehensive glance. + +Her luck was holding Fortune was more than favorable, merely. It +exercised itself actively, with evident concern, in her behalf. + +Lady Muriel went swiftly into the room. She slipped the key from under +the pile of journals and crossed to the safe sitting against the wall. + +It was an old safe of some antediluvian manufacture and the lock was +worn. The stem of the key was smooth and it slipped in her gloved hands. +She could not hold it firm enough to turn the lock. Finally with her +bare fingers and with one hand to aid the other she was able to move the +lock and so open the safe. + +She heard the door to the street close below, and the faint sound of +Bramwell Winton's footsteps as though he went along the hall into the +service portion of the house. She was nervous and hurried, but this +reassured her. + +The battered dispatch box sat within on the empty bottom of the a safe. + +She lifted the lid; an automatic pistol lay on a limp leather-backed +journal, stained, discolored and worn. Lady Muriel slipped her hand +under these articles and lifted out the thing she sought. + +Even in the pressing haste of her adventure, the woman could not forbear +to look at the thing upon which these two men set so great a value. She +stopped then a moment on her knees beside the safe, the prized article +in her hands. + +A map, evidently drawn with extreme care, was before her. She glanced +at it hastily and turned the thing quickly over. What she saw amazed and +puzzled her. Even in this moment of tense emotions she was astonished: +She saw a pool of water,--not a pool of water in the ordinary sense--but +a segment of water, as one would take a certain limited area of the +surface of the sea or a lake or river. It was amber-colored and as +smooth as glass, and on the surface of this water, as though they +floated, were what appeared to be three, reddish-purple colored flowers, +and beneath them on the bottom of the water were huge indistinct +shadows. + +The water was not clear to make out the shadows. But the appearing +flowers were delicately painted. They stood out conspicuously on the +glassy surface of the water as though they were raised above it. + +Amazement held the woman longer than she thought, over this +extraordinary thing. Then she thrust it into the bosom of her jacket, +fastening the button securely over it. + +The act kept her head down. When she lifted it Bramwell Winton was +standing in the door. + +In terror her hand caught up the automatic pistol out of the tin box. +She acted with no clear, no determined intent. It was a gesture of fear +and of indecision; escape through menace was perhaps the subconscious +motive; the most primitive, the most common motive of all creatures in +the corner. It extends downward from the human mind through all life. + +To spring up, to drag the veil over her face with her free hand, and to +thrust the weapon at the figure in the doorway was all simultaneous and +instinctive acts in the expression of this primordial impulse of escape +through menace. + +Then a thing happened. + +There was a sharp report and the figure standing in the doorway swayed +a moment and fell forward into the room. The unconscious gripping of the +woman's fingers had fired the pistol. + +For a moment Lady Muriel stood unmoving, arrested in every muscle by +this accident. But her steady wits--skilled in her profession--did not +wholly desert her. She saw that the man was dead. There was peril in +that--immense, uncalculated peril, but the prior and immediate peril, +the peril of discovery in the very accomplishment of theft, was by this +act averted. + +She stooped over, her eyes fixed on the sprawling body and with her free +hand closed the door of the safe. Then she crossed the room, put the +pistol down on the floor near the dead man's hand and went out. + +She went swiftly down the stairway and paused a moment at the door to +look out. The street was empty. She hurried away. + +She met no one. A cab in the distance was appearing. She hailed it as +from a cross street and returned to Regent. It was characteristic of the +woman that her mind dwelt upon the spoil she carried rather than upon +the act she had done. + +She puzzled at the water color. How could these things be flowers? + +Bramwell Winton was a biologist; he would not be concerned with flowers. +And Sir Godfrey Halleck and his son Tony, the big game hunter, were +not men to bother themselves with blossoms. Sir Godfrey, as she now +remembered vaguely, had, like his dead son, been a keen sportsman in his +youth; his country house was full of trophies. + +She carried buttoned in the bosom of her jacket something that these men +valued. But, what was it? Well, at any rate it was something that would +mean fame and fortune to the one who should bring it out of Africa. That +one would now be Hecklemeir, and she should have her share of the spoil. + +Lady Muriel found the drawing-room of her former employer in some +confusion; rugs were rolled up, bronzes were being packed. But in the +disorder of it the proprietor was imperturbable. He merely elevated his +eyebrows at her reappearance. She went instantly to the point. + +“Hecklemeir,” she said, “how would you like to have a definite objective +in your explorations?” + +The man looked at her keenly. + +“What do you mean precisely?” he replied. + +“I mean,” she continued, “something that would bring one fame and +fortune if one found it.” And she added, as a bit of lure, “You remember +the gold plates Hector Bartlett dug up in Syria?” + +He came over closer to her; his little eyes narrowed. + +“What have you got?” he said. + +His facetious manner--that vulgar persons imagine to be +distinguished--was gone out of him. He was direct and simple. + +She replied with no attempt at subterfuge. + +“I've got a map of a route to some sort of treasure--I don't know +what--It's in the Karamajo Mountains in the French Congo; a map to it +and a water color of the thing.” + +Hecklemeir did not ask how Lady Muriel came by the thing she claimed; +his profession always avoided such detail. But he knew that she had gone +to Bramwell Winton; and what she had must have come from some scientific +source. The mention of Hector Bartlett was not without its virtue. + +Lady Muriel marked the man's changed manner, and pushed her trade. + +“I want a check for a hundred pounds and a third of the thing when you +bring it out.” + +Hecklemeir stood for a moment with the tips of his fingers pressed +against his lips; then replied. + +“If you have anything like the thing you describe, I'll give you a +hundred pounds... let me see it.” + +She took the water color out of the bosom of her jacket and gave it to +him. + +He carried it over to the window and studied it a moment. Then he turned +with a sneering oath. + +“The devil take your treasure,” he said, “these things are +water-elephants. I don't care a farthing if they stand on the bottom of +every lake in Africa!” + +And he flung the water color toward her. Mechanically the stunned woman +picked it up and smoothed it out in her fingers. + +With the key to the picture she saw it clearly, the shadowy bodies of +the beasts and the tips of their trunks distended on the surface like +a purple flower. And vaguely, as though it were a memory from a +distant life, she recalled hearing the French Ambassador and Baron Rudd +discussing the report of an explorer who pretended to have seen these +supposed fabulous elephants come out of an African forest and go down +under the waters of Lake Leopold. + +She stood there a moment, breaking the thing into pieces with her bare +hands. Then she went out. At the door on the landing she very nearly +stepped against a little cockney. + +“My Lidy,” he whined, “I was bringing your gloves; you dropped them on +your way up.” + +She took them mechanically and began to draw them on... the cryptic +sign of the cleaner on the wrist hem was now to her indicatory of +her submerged estate. The little cockney hung about a moment as for a +gratuity delayed, then he disappeared down the stair before her. + +She went slowly down, fitting the gloves to her fingers. + +Midway of the flight she paused. The voice of the little cockney, but +without the accent, speaking to a Bobby standing beside the entrance +reached her. + +“It was Sir Henry Marquis who set the Yard to register all laundry marks +in London. Great C. I. D. Chief, Sir Henry!” + +And Lady Muriel remembered that she had removed these gloves in order to +turn the slipping key in Bramwell Winton's safe lock. + + + + +X.-The Last Adventure + + +The talk had run on treasure. + +I could not sleep and my friends had dropped in. I had the big South +room on the second floor of the Hotel de Paris. It looks down on the +Casino and the Mediterranean. Perhaps you know it. + +Queer friends, you'd say. Every man-jack of them a gambler. But when one +begins to sit about all night with his eyes open, the devil's a friend. + +Barclay was standing before the fire. The others had drifted out. He's +a big man pitted with the smallpox. He made a gesture, flinging out his +hand toward the door. + +“That bunch thinks there's a curse on treasure, Sir Henry. That's one of +the oldest notions in the world... it's unlucky.” + +“But I know where there's a treasure that's not unlucky. At least it was +not unlucky for poor Charlie Tavor. He did not get it, but there was no +curse on it that reached to him. It helped poor Charlie finish in style. +He died like a lord in a big country house, with a formal garden and a +line of lackeys.” + +Barclay paused. + +“Queer chap, Tavor. He was the best all round explorer in the world. I +bar nobody. Charlie Tavor could take a nigger and cross the poisonous +plateau south west of the Libyan desert. I've backed him. I know... but +he had no business sense, anybody could fool him. He found the stock of +bar silver on the west face of the Andes that made old Nute Hardman a +quarter of a million dollars, clear, after the cursed beast had split it +a half dozen ways with a crooked South American government.” + +Barclay's teeth set and he jerked up his clinched hand. + +“It was a damned steal, Sir Henry. A piece of low down, dirty robbery; +and it was like taking candy away from a child.... 'Sign here, Mr. +Tavor,' and Charlie would scrawl on his fist.. .. Some people think +there's no hell, but what's God Almighty going to do with Old Nute?” + +He flung out his hand again. + +“Still the thing didn't dent Charlie. He never missed a step. 'Don't +bother, Barclay, old man,' he'd say, 'I'll find something else,' and +then he'd go off into this dream he had of coming back when he'd struck +it, to the old home county in England and laying it over the bunch that +had called him 'no good.' He never talked much, but I gathered from odds +and ends that he was the black sheep in a pretty smart flock. + +“Then, I'd stake him to a cheap outfit--not much, I've said he could +push through the Libyan desert with a nigger--and he'd drop out of +the world. It wasn't charity. I got my money's worth. The clay pots he +brought me from Yucatan would sell any day for more cash than I ever +advanced him.” + +Barclay moved a little before the fire. I was listening in a big chair, +my feet extended toward the hearth; a smoking jacket had replaced my +dinner coat. + +“It was five years ago, in London,” Barclay went on, “that I fitted +Charlie out for his last adventure. He wanted to land in the gulf of +Pe-chi-li and go into the great desert of the Shamo in Central Mongolia. +You'll find the Shamo all dotted out on the maps; but it's faked dope. +No white man knows anything about the Shamo. + +“It's a trick to lay off these great waste areas and call them elevated +plateaus or sunken plateaus. You can't go by the atlas. Where's Kane's +Open Polar Sea and Morris K. Jessup's Land? Still, Charlie thought the +Shamo might be a low plain, and he thought he might find something in +it. You see the great gold caravans used to cross it, three thousand +years ago... and as Charlie kept saying, 'What's time in the Shamo?' + +“Well, I bought him a kit of stuff, and he took a P. and O. through the +Suez. I got a long letter from Pekin two months later; and then Charlie +Tavor dropped out of the world. I went back to America. No word ever +came from Charlie. I thought he was dead. I suppose a white man's life +is about the cheapest thing there is northwest of the Yellow River; and +Charlie never had an escort. A coolie and an old service pistol would +about foot up his defenses. + +“And there's every ghastly disease in Mongolia.... Still some word +always came from Tavor inside of a year; a tramp around the Horn would +bring in a dirty note, written God knows where, and carried out to the +ship by a naked native swimming with the thing in his teeth; or some +little embassy would send it to me in a big official envelope stamped +with enough red wax to make a saint's candle. + +“But the luck failed this time. A year ran on, then two, then three and +I passed Charlie up. He'd surely 'gone west!'” + +Barclay paused, thrust his hands into the pockets of his dinner jacket +and looked down at me. + +“One night in New York I got a call from the City Hospital. The +telephone message came in about ten o'clock. I was in Albany; I found +the message when I got back the following morning and I went ever to the +hospital. + +“The matron said that they had picked up a man on the North River docks +in an epileptic fit and the only name they could find on him was my New +York address. They thought he was going to die, he was cold and stiff +for hours, and they had undertaken to reach me in order to identify him. +But he did not die. He was up this morning and she would bring him in.” + +Barclay paused again. + +“She brought in Charlie Tavor!... And I nearly screamed when I saw the +man. He was dressed in one of those cheap hand-me-downs that the Germans +used to sell in the tropics for a pound, three and six, his eyes looked +as dead as glass and he was as white as plaster. How the man managed to +keep on his feet I don't know. + +“I didn't stop for any explanation. I got Tavor into a taxi, and over to +my apartment.” + +Barclay moved in his position before the fire. + +“But on the way over a thing happened that some little god played in +for a joke. There was a block just where Thirty-third crosses into Fifth +Avenue, and our taxi pulled up by a limousine.” + +Barclay suddenly thrust out his big pock-marked face. + +“The thing couldn't have happened by itself. Some burlesque angel put +it over when the Old Man wasn't looking. Spread out on the tapestry +cushions of that limousine was Nute Hardman! + +“There they were side by side. Not six feet apart; Old Nute in a +sable-lined coat and Charlie in his hand-me-down, at a pound, three and +six.” + +The muscles in Barclay's big jaw tightened. + +“Maybe there is a joker that runs the world, and maybe the devil runs +it. Anyhow it's a queer system. Here was Charlie Tavor, straight as a +string, down and out. And here was Nute Hardman, so crooked that a fly +couldn't light on him and stand level, with everything that money could +buy. + +“I cast it up while the taxi stood there beside the car. Nute was consul +in a South American port that you couldn't spell and couldn't find on +the map. He didn't have two dollars to rub together, until Charlie Tavor +turned up. There he sat, out of the world, forgotten, growing moss and +getting ready to rot; and God Almighty, or the devil, or whatever it is, +steered Charlie Tavor in to him with the bar silver. + +“He picked Charlie to the bone and cut for the States. And this damned +crooked luck went right along with him. He was in a big apartment, now, +up on Fifth Avenue and four-flushing toward every point of the +compass. His last stunt was 'patron of science.' He'd gotten into the +Geographical Society, and he was laying lines for the Royal Society in +London. He had a Harvard don working over in the Metropolitan library, +building him a thesis! + +“The thing made me ugly. I wanted to have a plain talk with the devil. +He wasn't playing fair. Old Nute couldn't have been worth the whole run +of us; I've legged some myself, and I had a right to be heard. The devil +ought to make old Nute split up with Charlie. True, Charlie belonged in +the other camp, but I didn't. And if I wanted a little favor I felt that +the devil ought to come across with it... I put it up to him, or down to +him, as you'd say, while I sat there in that taxi.” + +There was a grim energy in Barclay's face. He was no ordinary person. + +“I got Tavor up to my apartment, and a goblet of brandy in him. I never +saw anybody look like Tavor as he sat there propped up in the chair with +a lot of cushions around him. It was winter and cold. He had no clothes +to speak of, but he did not seem to notice either the cold outside or +the heat in the apartment, as though, somehow, he couldn't tell the +difference. + +“And he was the strangest color that any human being ever was in the +world. I've said that he looked like plaster, and he did look like it, +but he looked like a plaster man with a thin coat of tan colored paint +on him.” + +Barclay paused. + +“It's hardly a wonder that no message reached me. The devil couldn't +have got word out of the hell land he'd been in. Lost is no name for it. +He'd been all over the Shamo, and the big Sahara's a park to it. He'd +been North to the Kangai where they used to get the gold that the +caravans carried across the Shamo, and he'd followed the old trails +South to the great wall. + +“It's all a Satan's country. I don't know why God Almighty wanted to +make a hell hole like the Shamo!” + +He paused, then he went on. + +“But it wasn't in the Shamo that Tavor got track of the thing he was +after. He said that the age he was trying to get back into was much +more remote than he imagined. It must have been a good many thousands +of years ago. He couldn't tell; long before anything like dependable +history at any rate.... There must have been an immense age of great +oriental splendor in the South of Asia and along the East African coast, +dying out at about the time our knowledge of human history begins.” + +Barclay went on, unmoving before the fire. + +“I don't know why we imagine that the legends of a little tribe in Syria +running back to the fifth or sixth century begins the world.... Anyway, +Tavor got the notion, as I have said, of an age in decay at about the +time these legends start in; with a trade moving west. + +“He nosed it all out! God knows how. Of course it was only a +theory--only a notion in fact. He hadn't anything to go on that I could +see. But after two years' drifting about in the Shamo, this is how he +finally figured it: + +“Northern Asia traded gold in the west; the mined product would be +molded into bricks in lower Mongolia. It was then carried over land +to the southwest coast of Arabia. There was some great center of world +commerce low down on the Red Sea about eight hundred miles south of Port +Said. + +“Tavor said that when he began to think about the thing the caravan +route was pretty clear to him. Arabia seemed to have been connected, +in that remote age, with Persia at the Strait of Ormus, so there was +a direct overland route.... That put another notion into Tavor's head; +these treasure caravans must have crossed the immense Sandy Desert of +El-Khali. And this notion developed another; if one were seeking the +wreck of any one of these treasure caravans he would be more likely to +find it in the El-Khali than in the Shamo.” + +Barclay moved away from the fire, got a chair and sat down. He was +across the hearth from me. He looked about the room and at the curtained +windows that shut out the blue night. + +“You can't sleep,” he went on, “so I might just as well tell you this. +A good deal of it is what the lawyers called dicta... obiter dicta; when +the judge gets to putting in stuff on the side ... but it's a long time +'til daylight.” + +He had taken a small chair and he sat straight in it after the manner of +a big man. + +“You see the treasure carried south across the Shamo would be 'gold +wheat' (dust, we'd call it), packed in green skins... you couldn't find +that. But the caravans crossing the El-Khali would carry this gold in +bricks for the great west trade. Now a gold brick is indestructible; +you can't think of anything that would last forever like a gold brick. +Nothing would disturb it, water and sun are alike without effect on +it.... + +“That was Tavor's notion, and he went right after it. Most of us would +have slacked out after two years in the hell hole of Central Mongolia. +But not Charlie Tavor. He got down to Arabia somehow; God knows, I never +asked him,--and he went right on into the Great Sandy Desert of Roba El +Khali. The oldest caravan route known runs straight across the desert +from Muscat to Mecca. It's a thousand miles across--but you can strike +the line of it nearly four hundred miles west in a hundred miles travel +by going due South from the coast between fifty and fifty-five degrees. + +“You'll find this old caravan route drawn on the map, a dead straight +line across the thirty-third parallel. But the man that put it on there +never traveled over it. He doesn't know whether it is a sunken plateau, +or an elevated plateau, or what the devil it is that this old route runs +across. And he doesn't know what the earth's like in the great basin of +the El-Khali; maybe it's sand and maybe it's something else.” + +Barclay stopped and looked queerly at me. + +“The Doctor Cooks have put a lot of stuff over on us. The fact is, +there's six million square miles of the earth's surface that nobody +knows anything about.” + +He got a package of American cigarettes out of his pocket, selected one +and lighted it with a fragment of the box thrust into the fire. + +“That's where Tavor was the last year. When the ambulance picked him up, +he'd crawled around the Horn in a Siamese tramp.” + +He paused. + +“Great people, the English; no fag-out to them. Look how Scott went on +in the Antarctic with his feet frozen... It's in the blood; it was in +Tavor. + +“I sat there that winter night in my room in New York while he told me +all about it. + +“It was morning when he finished--the milk wagons were on the +street,--and then, he added, quite simply, as though it were a matter of +no importance, + +“'But I can't go back, Barclay, old man; my tramping's over. That was no +fit I had on the dock.' + +“He looked at me with his dead eyes in his tan-colored plaster face. +You've heard of the hemp-chewers and the betel-chewers; well, all that's +baby-food to a thing they've got in the Shamo. It's a shredded root, +bitter like cactus, and when you chew it, you don't get tired and you +don't get hot... you go on and you don't know what the temperature +is. Then some day, all at once, you go down, cold all over like a dead +man... that time you don't die, but the next time...” + +Barclay snapped his fingers without adding the word.' + +“And you can calculate when the second one will strike you. It's a +hundred and eighty-one days to the hour.” + +Then he added: + +“That was the first one on the dock. Tavor had six months to live.” + +The big man broke the cigarette in his fingers and threw the pieces into +the fire. Then he turned abruptly toward me. + +“And I know where he wanted to live for those six months. The old dream +was still with him. He wanted that country house in his native county +in England, with the formal garden and the lackeys. The finish didn't +bother him, but he wanted to round out his life with the dream that he +had carried about with him. + +“I put him to bed and went down into Broadway, and walked about all +night. Tavor couldn't go back and he had to have a bunch of money. + +“It was no good. I couldn't see it. I went back Tavor was up and I sat +him down to a cross examination that would have delighted the soul of a +Philadelphia lawyer.” + +Barclay paused. + +“It was all at once that I saw it--like you'd snap your fingers. It +was an accident of Charlie's talk... one of those obiter dicta, that +I mentioned a while ago. But I stopped Charlie and went over to the +Metropolitan Library; there I got me an expert--an astronomer chap, as +it happened, reading calculus in French for fun--I gave him a twenty and +I looked him in the eye. + +“Now, Professor,' I said, 'this dope's got to be straight stuff, I'm +risking money on it; every word you write has got to be the truth, and +every line and figure that you put on your map has got to be correct +with a capital K.'” + +“'Surely,' he said, 'I shall follow Huxley for the text and I shall +check the chart calculations for error.' + +“'And there's another thing, professor. You've got to go dumb on this +job, for which I double the twenty.' He looked puzzled, but when he +finally understood me, he said 'Surely' again, and I went back to my +apartment. + +“'Charlie,' I said, 'how much money would it take for this English +country life business?' + +“His eyes lighted up a little. + +“'Well, Barclay, old man,' he replied, 'I've estimated it pretty +carefully a number of times. I could take Eldon's place for six months +with the right to purchase for two thousand dollars paid down; and +I could manage the servants and the living expenses for another four +thousand. I fear I should not be able to get on with a less sum than six +thousand dollars.' + +“Then,” he added--he was a child to the last--“perhaps Mr. Hardman will +now be able to advance it; he promised me 'a further per cent',” those +were his words, when the matter was finally concluded. + +“Then ten thousand would do?” + +“My word,' he said, 'I should go it like a lord on ten thousand. Do you +think Mr. Hardman would consider that sum?' + +“'I'm going to try him,' I said, 'I've got some influence in a quarter +that he depends on.' + +“And I went out. I went down to my bank and got twenty U. S. bonds of +a thousand each. At five o'clock, the professor had his dope ready--the +text and the chart, neatly folded in a big manilla envelope with a +rubber band around it. And that evening I went up to see old Nute.” + +Barclay got another cigarette. There was a queer cynicism in his big +pitted face. + +“The church bunch,” he said, “have got a strange conception of the +devil; they think he's always ready to lie down on his friends. That's +a fool notion. The devil couldn't do business if he didn't come across +when you needed him. + +“And there's another thing; the old-timers, when they went after their +god for a favor, always began by reciting what they'd done for him.... +That was sound dope! I tried it myself on the way up to old Nute's +apartment on Fifth Avenue. + +“I went over a lot of things. And whenever I made a point, I rapped it +on the pavement with the ferule of my walking stick; as one would say, +'you owe me for that!' + +“You see I was worked up about Tavor. When a man's carried a dream over +all the hell he'd pushed through he ought to have it in the end.” + +Barclay paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +“You know the swell apartments on Fifth Avenue; no name, only a number; +every floor a residence, only the elevators connecting them. I found old +Nute in the seventh; and I was bucked the moment I got in. + +“The door from the drawing room to the library was open. The Harvard don +was going out, the one Nute had employed to get up his thesis for the +Royal Society of London--I mentioned him a while ago. And I heard his +final remark, flung back at the door. 'What you require, Sir, is +the example case of some new exploration--one that you have yourself +conducted.' + +“That bucked me; the devil was on the job!” + +Barclay stopped again. He sat for a moment watching the smoke from the +cigarette climb in a blue mist slowly into the beautiful fresco of the +ceiling. + +“I told old Nute precisely what I've told you. How I'd backed Tavor for +his last adventure, and where he'd been; all over Central Mongolia and +finally across the Great Sandy Desert of El-Khali. And I told him what +Charlie was after; the theory he started with and his final conclusion +when he made his last push along the old caravan route west from Muscat. + +“I went into the details, and the big notion that Tavor had slowly +pieced together; how the gold was mined in the ranges south of Siberia, +carried in green skins to lower Mongolia, melted there and taken for +trade Southwest across the El-Khali to an immense Babylon of Commerce of +which the present Mecca is perhaps a decadent residuum. + +“I put it all in; the accessibility of this desert from the coast +on three sides, how the old caravan route parallels the thirty-third +meridian and how Charlie struck it four hundred miles out into the +desert in a hundred miles travel due south in longitude between 50 and +55 degrees; all the details of Tavor's hunt for the wreck of one of +these treasure caravans. + +“Old Nute looked at me with his little hard eyes slipping about. + +“'And he didn't find it?' he said. + +“I didn't answer that. I went ahead and told him how I found Tavor and +the shape he was in, and then I added, 'I'm not an explorer, and Charlie +can't go back.' + +“Old Nute's thick neck shot out at that. + +“'Then he did find it?' he said. + +“'Now look here, Nute,' I said, 'you're not trading with Tavor on this +deal. You're trading with me and I'm just as slick as you are. You'll +get no chance to slip under on this. You forget all I've told you just +as though it had nothing to do with what I'm going to tell you, and I'll +come to the point.' + +“'Forget it?' he said. + +“'Yes,' I said, 'forget it. I'm not going to put you on to what Charlie +knows, with any strings to it, or with any pointers that you can run +down without us. I've told you all about Tavor's big hunt through the +Shamo and the El-Khali for a purpose of my own and not for the purpose +of enabling you to locate the thing that Charlie Tavor knows about.' + +“Hardman's voice went down into a low note. 'What does he know?' he +said. + +“I looked him squarely in the little reptilian eyes. 'He knows where +there is a treasure in gold equal in our money to three hundred thousand +dollars!' + +“Old Nute's little eyes focused into his nose an instant. Then he took a +chance at me. + +“'What's the country like?' + +“I went on as though I didn't see the drift. + +“'Tavor says this area of the earth's surface is a great plain +practically level, sloping gradually on one side and rising gradually on +the other.' + +“'Sand?' said Nute. + +“'No,' I replied, 'Tavor says that contrary to the common notion, this +plain is not covered with sand, it's a kind of chalk deposit.' + +“'Hard to get to?' + +“Old Nute shot the query in with a little quick duck of his head. + +“I went straight on with the answer. + +“'Tavor says it's about a five or six days' journey from a sea coast +town.' + +“'Hard traveling?' + +“'No, Tavor says you can get within two miles of the place without any +difficulty whatever--he says anybody can do it. The only difficulties +are on the last two miles. But up to the last two miles, it's a holiday +journey for a middle-aged woman.' + +“Old Nute grunted. He put his fat hands together over his waistcoat and +twiddled his thumbs. + +“'Well,'; he said, 'what's in your mind about it?' + +“We were now up to the trade and I stated the terms. + +“'It's like this,' I said, 'Tavor's down and out. He's got only six +months to live. Fifth Avenue piled full of gold won't do him any good if +he's got to wait for it. What he wants is a little money quick!' + +“Old Nute's eyes squinted. + +“'How much money?' he said. + +“'Well,' I said, 'Tavor will turn his map over to you for ten thousand +dollars... Death's crowding him.' + +“Old Nute's fat fingers began to drum on his waistcoat. + +“'How do I know the gold's there and the map's straight?' + +“'Did you ever know Tavor to lie?' I said. + +“'No,' he said, 'Tavor's not a liar; but I am a business man, Mr. +Barclay, and in business we do not go on verbal assurances, no matter +how unquestioned.' + +“'That's right,' I replied, 'I'm a business man, too; that's why I came +instead of sending Tavor.... you found out he wasn't a business man in +the first deal.' + +“Then I took my 'shooting irons' out of my pocket and laid them on the +table. + +“There,' I said, 'are twenty, one-thousand United States bonds, not +registered,' and I put my hand on one of the big manilla envelopes; +'and here,' I said, 'is an accurate description of the place where this +treasure lies and a map of the route to it,' and I put my hand on the +other. + +“'Now,' I went on, 'I believe every word of this thing. Charles Tavor is +the best all-round explorer in the world. I've known him a lifetime +and what he says goes with me. We'll put up this bunch of stuff with a +stakeholder for the term of a year, and if the gold isn't there and if +the map showing the route to it isn't correct and if every word I've +said about it isn't precisely the truth, you take down my bonds and keep +them.' + +“Old Nute got up and walked about the room. I knew what he was thinking. +'Here's another one of them--there's all kinds.' + +“But it hooked him. We wrote out the terms and put the stuff up with old +Commodore Harris--the straightest sport in America. Nute had the right +to copy the map, and the text and a year to verify it. And I took the +ten thousand back to Charlie Tavor.” + +Barclay got up and went over to the window. He drew back the heavy +tapestry curtains. It was morning; the blue dawn was beginning to +illumine Monaco and the polished arc of the sea. He stood looking down +into it, holding the curtain in his hand. + +“I give the devil his due for that, Sir Henry,” he said. “Charlie +Tavor got his dream at the end; he died like a gentleman in his English +country house with the formal garden and the lackeys.” + +“And the other man got the treasure?” I said. Barclay replied without +moving. + +“No, he didn't get it.” + +“Then you lost your bonds?” + +“No, I didn't lose them; Commodore Harris handed them back to me on the +last day of the year.” + +I sat up in my big lounge chair. + +“Didn't Hardman make a fight for them; if he didn't find the +treasure--didn't he squeal?” + +Barclay turned about, drawing the curtain close behind him. + +“And be laughed out of the high-brow bunch that he was trying to get +into?... I said old Nute was a crook, but I didn't say he was a fool.” + +I turned around in the chair. + +“I don't understand this thing, Barclay. If the treasure was there, +and you gave Hardman a correct map of the route to it, and it lay on a +practically level plain, and he could get within two miles of it without +difficulty in four or five days' travel from a sea coast town, why +couldn't he get it? Was it all the truth?” + +“It was every word precisely the truth,” he said. + +“Then why couldn't he get it?” + +Barclay looked down at me; his big pitted face was illumined with a +cynical smile. + +“Well, Sir Henry,” he said, “'the trouble is with those last two miles. +They're water... straight down. The level plain is the bed of the +Atlantic ocean and that gold is in the hold of the Titanic.” + + + + +XI.-American Horses + + +The thing began in the colony room of the Empire Club in London. The +colony room is on the second floor and looks out over Piccadilly Circus. +It was at an hour when nobody is in an English club. There was a drift +of dirty fog outside. Such nights come along in October. + +Douglas Hargrave did not see the Baronet until he closed the door behind +him. Sir Henry was seated at a table, leaning over, his face between his +hand, and his elbows resting on the polished mahogany board. There was +a sheet of paper on the table between the Baronet's elbows. There were a +few lines written on the paper and the man's faculties were concentrated +on them. He did not see the jewel dealer until that person was half +across the room, then he called to him. + +“Hello, Hargrave,” he said. “Do you know anything about ciphers?” + +“Only the trade one that our firm uses,” replied the jewel dealer. “And +that's a modification of the A B C code.” + +“Well,” he said, “take a look at this.” + +The jewel dealer sat down at the other side of the table and the Baronet +handed him the sheet of paper. The man expected to see a lot of queer +signs and figures; but instead he found a simple trade's message, as it +seemed to him. + +P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlow from N. +Y. + +Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up. + +“Well,” said the jewel dealer, “somebody's going to ship nine hundred +horses. Where's the mystery?” + +The Baronet shrugged his big shoulders. + +“The mystery,” he said, “is everywhere. It's before and after and in the +body of this message. There's hardly anything to it but mystery.” + +“Who sent it?” said Hargrave. + +“That's one of the mysteries,” replied the Baronet. + +“Ah!” said the jewel dealer. “Who received it?” + +“That's another,” he answered. + +“At any rate,” continued Hargrave, “you know where you got it.” + +“Right,” replied the Baronet. “I know where I got it.” He took three +newspapers out of the pocket of his big tweed coat. “There it is,” he +said, “in the personal column of three newspapers--today's Times printed +in London; the Matin printed in Paris; and a Dutch daily printed in +Amsterdam.” + +And there was the message set up in English, in two sentences precisely +word for word, in three newspapers printed on the same day in London, +Paris and Amsterdam. + +“It seems to be a message all right,” said Hargrave: “But why do you +imagine it's a cipher?” + +The Baronet looked closely at the American jewel dealer for a moment. + +“Why should it be printed in English in these foreign papers,” he said, +“if it were not a cipher?” + +“Perhaps,” said Hargrave, “the person for whom it's intended does not +know any other language.” + +The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + +“The persons for whom this message is intended,” he said, “do not +confine themselves to a single language. It's a pretty well-organized +international concern.” + +“Well,” said Hargrave, “it doesn't look like a mystery that ought +to puzzle the ingenuity of the Chief of the Criminal Investigation +Department of the metropolitan police.” He nodded to Sir Henry. “You +have only to look out for the arrival of nine hundred horses and when +they get in to see who takes them off the boat. The thing looks easy.” + +“It's not so easy as it looks,” replied the Baronet. “Evidently these +horses might go to France, Holland or England. That's the secret in this +message. That's where the cipher comes in. The name of the port is in +that cipher somewhere.” + +“But you can, watch the steamer,” said Hargrave, “the Don Carlos.” + +The Baronet laughed. + +“There's no such steamer!” He got up and began to walk round the table. +“Nine hundred horses,” he said. “This thing has got to stop. They're on +the sea now, on the way over from America: We have got to find out where +they will go ashore.” + +He stopped, stooped over and studied the message which he had written +out and which also lay before him in the three newspapers. + +“It's there,” he said, “the name of the port of arrival, somewhere in +those two sentences. But I can't get at it. It's no cipher that I have +ever heard of. It's no one of the hundred figure or number ciphers that +the experts in the department know anything about. If we knew the port +of arrival we could pick up the clever gentleman who comes to take away +the horses. But what's the port--English, French or Dutch? There are a +score of ports.” He struck the paper with his hand. “It's there, my word +for it, if we could only decode the thing.” + +Then he stood up, his face lifted, his fingers linked behind his +back. He crossed the room and stood looking out at the thin yellow fog +drifting over Piccadilly Circus. Finally he came back, gathered up his +papers and put them in the pocket of his big tweed coat. + +“There's one man in Europe,” he said, “who can read this thing. That's +the Swiss expert criminologist, old Arnold, of Zurich. He's lecturing at +the Sorbonne in Paris. I'm going to see him.” + +Then he went out. + +Now that, as has been said, is how the thing began. It was the first +episode in the series of events that began to go forward on this +extraordinary night. One will say that the purchasing agent for a great +New York jewel house ought to be accustomed to adventures. The writers +of romance have stimulated that fancy. But the fact is that such persons +are practical people. They never do any of the things that the story +writers tell us. They never carry jewels about with them. Of course they +know the police departments of foreign cities. All jewel dealers make a +point of that. Hargrave's father was an old friend of Sir Henry Marquis, +chief of the C. I. D., and the young man always went to see him when he +happened in London. That explains the freedom of his talk to Hargrave on +this night in the Empire Club in Piccadilly. + +The young man went over and sat down by the fire. The big room was +empty. The sounds outside seemed muffled and distant. The incident that +had just passed impressed him. He wondered why people should imagine +that a purchasing agent of a jewel house must be a sort of expert in the +devices of mystery. As has been said, the thing's a notion. Everything +is shipped through reliable transportation companies and insured. There +was much more mystery in a shipload of horses--the nine hundred horses +that were galloping through the head of Sir Henry Marquis--than in all +the five prosaic years during which young Hargrave had succeeded his +father as a jewel buyer. The American was impressed by this mystery of +the nine hundred horses. Sir Henry had said it was a mystery in every +direction. + +Now, as he sat alone before the fire in the colony room of the Empire +Club and thought about it, the thing did seem inexplicable. Why should +the metropolitan police care who imported horses, or in what port a +shipload of them was landed? The war was over. Nobody was concerned +about the importation of horses. Why should Sir Henry be so disturbed +about it? But he was disturbed; and he had rushed off to Paris to see an +expert on ciphers. That seemed a tremendous lot of trouble to take. The +Baronet knew the horses were on the sea coming from America, he said. If +he knew that much, how could he fail to discover the boat on which +they were carried and the port at which they would arrive? Nobody could +conceal nine hundred horses! + +Hargrave was thinking about that, idly, before the glow of the coal +fire, when the second episode in this extraordinary affair arrived. + +A steward entered. + +“Visitor, please,” he said, “to see Mr. Hargrave.” + +Then he presented his tray with a card. The jewel dealer took the card +with some surprise. Everybody knew that he was at the Empire Club. It is +a colony thing with chambers for foreign guests. A list of arrivals is +always printed. He saw at a glance that it was not a man's card; the +size was too large. Then he turned it over before the light of the fire. +The name was engraved in script, an American fashion at this time. + +The woman's card had surprised him; but the name on it brought him up +in his chair--“Mrs. A. B. Farmingham.” It was not a name that he knew +precisely; but he knew its genera, the family or group to which it +belonged. Mr. Jefferson removed titles of nobility in the American +republic, but his efforts did not eliminate caste zones. It only made +the lines of cleavage more pronounced. One knew these zones by the name +formation. Everybody knew “Alfa Baba” Farmingham, as the Sunday Press +was accustomed to translate his enigmatical initials. Some wonderful +Western bonanza was behind the man. Mrs. “Alfa Baba” Farmingham would +be, then, one of the persons that Hargrave's house was concerned to +reach. He looked again at the card. In the corner the engraved address, +“Point View, Newport,” was marked out with a pencil and “The Ritz” + written over it. + +He got his coat and hat and followed the steward out of the club. There +was a carriage at the curb. A footman was holding the door open, and a +woman, leaning over in the seat, was looking out. She was precisely what +Hargrave expected to see, one of those dominant, impatient, aggressive +women who force their way to the head of social affairs in America. She +shot a volley of questions at him the moment he was before the door. + +“Are you Douglas Hargrave, the purchasing agent for Bartholdi & Banks?” + +The man said that he was, and at her service, and so forth. But she did +not stop to listen to any reply. + +“You look mighty young, but perhaps you know your business. At any rate, +it's the best I can do. Get in.” + +Hargrave got in, the footman closed the door, and the carriage turned +into Piccadilly Circus. The woman did not pay very much attention to +him. She made a laconic explanation, the sort of explanation one would +make to a shopkeeper. + +“I want your opinion on some jewels,” she said. “I have a lot to do--no +time to fool away. When I found that I could see the jewels to-night I +concluded to pick you up on my way down. I didn't find out about it in +time to let you know.” + +Hargrave told her that he would be very glad to give her the benefit of +his experience. + +“Glad, nonsense!” she said. “I'll pay your fee. Do you know a jewel when +you see it?” + +“I think I do, madam,” he replied. + +She moved with energy. + +“It won't do to think,” she said. “I have got to know. I don't buy +junk.” + +He tried to carry himself up to her level with a laugh. + +“I assure you, madam,” he said, “our house is not accustomed to buy +junk. It's a perfectly simple matter to tell a spurious jewel.” + +And he began to explain the simple, decisive tests. But she did not +listen to him. + +“I don't care how a vet knows that a hunter's sound. All that I want to +be certain about is that he does know it. I don't want to buy hunters on +my own hook. Neither do I want to buy jewels on what I know about +them. If you know, that's all I care about it. And you must know or old +Bartholdi wouldn't trust you. That's what I'm going on.” + +She was a big aggressive woman, full of energy. Hargrave could not see +her very well, but that much was abundantly clear. The carriage turned +out of Piccadilly Circus, crossed Trafalgar Square and stopped before +Blackwell's Hotel. Blackwell's has had a distinct clientele since +the war; a sort of headquarters for Southeastern European visitors to +London. + +When the carriage stopped Mrs. Farmingham opened the door herself, +before the footman could get down, and got out. It was the restless +American impatience always cropping out in this woman. + +“Come along, young man,” she said, “and tell me whether this stuff is O. +K. or junk.” + +They got in a lift and went up to the top floor of the hotel. Mrs. +Farmingham got out and Hargrave followed her along the hall to a door +at the end of a corridor. He could see her now clearly in the light. She +had gray eyes, a big determined mouth, and a mass of hair dyed as only a +Parisian expert, in the Rue de la Paix, can do it. She went directly to +a door at the end of the corridor, rapped on it with her gloved hand, +and turned the latch before anybody could possibly have responded. + +Hargrave followed her into the room. It was a tiny sitting room, one +of the inexpensive rooms in the hotel. There was a bit of fire in +the grate, and standing by the mantelpiece was, a big old man with +close-cropped hair and a pale, unhealthy face. It was the type of face +that one associates with tribal races in Southeastern Europe. He was +dressed in a uniform that fitted closely to his figure. It was a uniform +of some elevated rank, from the apparent richness of it. There were one +or two decorations on the coat, a star and a heavy bronze medal. The +man looked to be of some importance; but this importance did not impress +Mrs. Farmingham. + +“Major,” she said in her direct fashion, “I have brought an expert to +look at the jewels.” + +She indicated Hargrave, and the foreign officer bowed courteously. Then +he took two candles from the mantelpiece and placed them on a little +table that stood in the center of the room. + +He put three chairs round this table, sat down in one of them, +unbuttoned the bosom of his coat and took out a big oblong jewel case. +The case was in an Oriental design and of great age. The embroidered +silk cover was falling apart. He opened the case carefully, delicately, +like one handling fragile treasure. Inside, lying each in a little +pocket that exactly fitted the outlines of the stone, were three rows of +sapphires. He emptied the jewels out on the table. + +“Sir,” he said, speaking with a queer, hesitating accent, “it saddens +one unspeakably to part with the ancient treasure of one's family.” + +Mrs. Farmingham said nothing whatever. Hargrave stooped over the +jewels and spread them out on top of, the table. There were twenty-nine +sapphires of the very finest quality. He had never seen better sapphires +anywhere. He remembered seeing stones that were matched up better; but +he had never seen individual stones that were any finer in anybody's +collection. The foreigner was composed and silent while the American +examined the jewels. But Mrs. Farmingham moved restlessly in her chair. + +“Well,” she said, “are they O. K.?” + +“Yes, madam,” said Hargrave; “they are first-class stones.” + +“Sure?” she asked. + +“Quite sure, madam,” replied the American. “There can be no question +about it.” + +“Are they worth eighteen thousand dollars?” + +She put the question in such a way that Hargrave understood her +perfectly. + +“Well,” he said, “that depends upon a good many conditions. But I'm +willing to say, quite frankly, that if you don't want the jewels I'm +ready to take them for our house at eighteen thousand dollars.” + +The big, dominant, aggressive woman made the gesture of one who cracks a +dog whip. + +“That's all right,” she said. Then she turned to the foreigner. “Now, +major, when do you want this money?” + +The big old officer shrugged his shoulders and put out his hands. + +“To-morrow, madam; to-morrow as I have said to you; before midday I must +return. I can by no means remain an hour longer; my leave of absence +expires. I must be in Bucharest at sunrise on the morning of the twelfth +of October. I can possibly arrive if I leave London to-morrow at midday, +but not later.” + +Mrs. Farmingham began to wag her head in a determined fashion. + +“Nonsense,” she said, “I can't get the money by noon. I have telegraphed +to the Credit Lyonnais in Paris. I can get it by the day after +to-morrow, or perhaps to-morrow evening.” + +The foreigner looked down on the floor. + +“It is impossible,” he said. + +The woman interrupted him. + +“Now, major, that's all nonsense! A day longer can't make any +difference.” + +He drew himself up and looked calmly at her. + +“Madam,” he said, “it would make all the difference in the world. If I +should remain one day over my time I might just as well remain all the +other days that are to follow it.” + +There was finality and conviction in the man's voice. Mrs. Farmingham +got up and began to walk about the room. She seemed to speak to +Hargrave, although he imagined that she was speaking to herself. + +“Now this is a pretty how-de-do,” she said “Lady Holbert told me about +this find to-night at dinner. She said Major Mikos wanted the money at +once; but I didn't suppose he wanted it cash on the hour like that. She +brought me right away after dinner to see him. And then I went for you.” + She stopped, and again made the gesture as of one who, cracks a dog +whip. “Now what shall I do?” she said. + +The last remark was evidently not addressed to Hargrave. It was not +addressed to anybody. It was merely the reflection of a dominant nature +taking counsel with itself. She took another turn about the room. Then +she pulled up short. + +“See here,” she said, “suppose you take these jewels and give the major +his money in the morning. Then I'll buy them of you.” + +“Very well, madam,” said Hargrave; “but in that event we shall charge +you a ten per cent commission.” + +She stormed at that. + +“Eighteen hundred dollars?” she said. “That's absurd, ridiculous! I'm +willing to pay you five hundred dollars.” + +The American did not undertake to argue the matter with her. + +“We don't handle any sale for a less commission,” he said. + +Then he explained that he could not act as any sort of agent in the +matter; that the only thing he could do would be to buy the jewels +outright and resell them to her. His house would not make any sale for +a less profit than ten per cent. Hargrave did not propose to be involved +in any but a straight-out transaction. He was quite willing to buy +the sapphires for eighteen thousand dollars. There was five thousand +dollars' profit in them on any market. He was perfectly safe either way +about. If Mrs. Farmingham made the repurchase there was a profit of ten +per cent. If not, there was five thousand dollars' profit in the bargain +under any conditions. + +They were Siamese stones, and the cutting was of an old design. They +were not from any stock in Europe. Hargrave knew what Europe held of +sapphires. These were from some Oriental stock. And everybody bought an +Oriental stone wherever he could get it. How the seller got it did not +matter. Nobody undertook to verify the title of a Siamese trader or a +Burma agent. + +Mrs. Farmingham walked about for several minutes, saying over to herself +as she had said before: + +“Now what shall I do?” + +Then like the big, dominant, decisive nature that she was she came to a +conclusion. + +“All right,” she said, “bring in the money in the morning and get the +sapphires. I'll take them up in a day or two. Good-by, major; come +along, Mr. Hargrave.” And she went out of the room. + +The American stopped at the door to bow to the old Rumanian officer who +was standing up beside the table before the heap of sapphires. They got +into the carriage at the curb before Blackwell's Hotel. Mrs. Farmingham +put Hargrave down at the Empire Club, and the carriage passed on, across +Piccadilly Circus toward the Ritz. + +The following morning Hargrave got the sapphires from Major Mikos, and +paid him eighteen thousand dollars in English sovereigns for them. He +wanted gold to carry back with him for the jewels that he had brought +out of the kingdom of Rumania. He seemed a simple, anxious person. He +wished to carry his treasures with him like a peasant. The sapphires +looked better in the daylight. There ought to have been seven thousand +dollars' profit in them, perhaps more; seven thousand dollars, at any +rate, that very day in the London market. Hargrave took them to the +Empire Club and put them in a sealed envelope in the steward's safe. + +The thin drift of yellow remained in the city; that sulphurous haze +that the blanket of sea fog, moving over London, presses down into her +streets. It was not heavy yet; it was only a mist of saffron; but it +threatened to gather volume as the day advanced. + +At luncheon Hargrave got a note from Mrs. Farmingham, a line scrawled +on her card to say that she would call for him at three o'clock. +Her carriage was before the door on the stroke of the hour, and she +explained that the money to redeem the jewels had arrived. The Credit +Lyonnais had sent it over from Paris. She seemed a bit puzzled about it. +She had telegraphed the Credit Lyonnais yesterday to send her eighteen +thousand dollars. And she had expected that the French banking house +would have arranged for the payment of the money through its English +correspondent. But its telegram directed her to go to the United +Atlantic Express Company and receive the money. + +A few minutes cleared the puzzle. The office of the company is on the +Strand above the Savoy. Mrs. Farmingham went to the manager and showed +him a lot of papers she had in an official-looking envelope. After a +good bit of official pother the porters carried out a big portmanteau, a +sort of heavy leather traveling case, and put it into the carriage. Mrs. +Farmingham came to Hargrave where he stood by the door. + +“Now, what do you think!” she said. “Of all the stupid idiots, give me +a French idiot to be the stupidest; they have actually sent me eighteen +thousand dollars in gold!” + +“Well,” said Hargrave, “perhaps you asked them to send you eighteen +thousand dollars in gold.” + +She closed her mouth firmly for a moment and looked him vacantly in the +face. + +“What did I do?” she said, in the old manner of addressing an inquiry +to herself. “The major wanted gold and perhaps I said gold. Why, yes, I +must have said I wanted eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Well, at any +rate, here's the money to pay you for the sapphires. I'll telegraph +the Credit Lyonnais to send me your eighteen hundred, and you can come +around to the Ritz for it in the morning.” + +She wished Hargrave to see that the telegram was properly worded, so the +stupid French would not undertake to ship another bag of coin to her. +He wrote it out, so there could be no mistake, and sent it from Charing +Cross on the way back to the club. + +Hargrave had to get two porters to carry the leather portmanteau into +his room at the Empire Club. Mrs. Farmingham did not wait to receive the +sapphires. She said he could bring them over to the Ritz after he had +counted the money. She wanted a cup of tea; he could come along in an +hour. + +It took Hargrave the whole of the hour to verify the money. The case had +been shipped, the straps were knotted tight and the lock was sealed. He +had to get a man from the outside to break the lock open. The man said +it was an American lock and he hadn't any implement to turn it. + +There were eighteen thousand dollars in American twenty-dollar gold +pieces packed in sawdust in the bag. The Credit Lyonnais had followed +Mrs. Farmingham's directions to the letter. Such is the custom of the +stupid French! She had asked for eighteen thousand dollars in gold, and +they had sent her eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Hargrave put one of +the pieces into his waistcoat pocket. He wanted to show Mrs. Farmingham +how strangely the stupid French had made the blunder of doing precisely +what she asked. Then he strapped up the portmanteau, pushed it under the +bed, went out and locked the door. He asked the chief steward to put a +man in the corridor to see that no one went into his room while he was +out. Then he got the sapphires out of the safe and went over to the +Ritz. + +He met Mrs. Farmingham in the corridor coming out to her carriage. + +“Ah, Mr. Hargrave,” she said, “here you are. I just told the clerk to +call you up and tell you to bring the sapphires over in the morning when +you came for the draft. I promised Lady Holbert last night to come out +to tea at five. Forgot it until a moment ago.” + +She took Hargrave along out to the carriage and he gave her the +envelope. She tore off the corner, emptied the sapphires into her hand, +glanced at them, and dropped them loose into the pocket of her coat. + +“Was the money all right?” she said. + +“Precisely all right,” replied the American. “The Credit Lyonnais, +with amazing stupidity, sent you precisely what you asked for in your +telegram.” And he showed her the twenty-dollar gold piece. + +“Well, well, the stupid darlings!” Then she laughed in her big, +energetic manner. “I'm not always a fool. Come in the morning at nine. +Good-night, Mr. Hargrave.” + +And the carriage rolled across Piccadilly into Bond Street in the +direction of Grosvenor Square and Lady Holbert's. + +The fog was settling down over London. Moving objects were beginning to +take on the loom of gigantic figures. It was getting difficult to see. + +It must have taken Hargrave half an hour to reach the club. The first +man he saw when he went in was Sir Henry, his hands in the pockets of +his tweed coat and his figure blocking the passage. + +“Hello, Hargrave!” he cried. “What have you got in your room that old +Ponsford won't let me go up?” + +“Not nine hundred horses!” replied the American. + +The Baronet laughed. Then he spoke in a lower voice: + +“It's extraordinary lucky that I ran over to the Sorbonne. Come along up +to your room and I'll tell you. This place is filling up with a lot of +thirsty swine. We can't talk in any public room of it.” + +They went up the great stairway, lined with paintings of famous +colonials celebrated in the English wars, and into the room. Hargrave +turned on the light and poked up the fire. Sir Henry sat down by the +table. He took out his three newspapers and laid them down before him. + +“My word, Hargrave,” he said, “old Arnold is a clever beggar! He cleared +the thing up clean as rain.” The Baronet spread the newspapers out +before him. + +“We knew here at the Criminal Investigation Department that this thing +was a cipher of some sort, because we knew about these horses. We had +caught up with this business of importing horses. We knew the shipment +was on the way as I explained to you. But we didn't know the port that +it would come into.” + +“Well,” said the American, “did you find out?” + +“My word,” he cried, “old Arnold laughed in my face. 'Ach, monsieur,' +he cried, mixing up several languages, 'it is Heidel's cipher! It is +explained in the seventeenth Criminal Archive at Gratz. Attend and I +will explain it, monsieur. It is always written in two paragraphs. The +first paragraph contains the secret message, and the second paragraph +contains the key to it. Voila! This message is in two paragraphs: + +“'“P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlos from +N. Y. + +“'“Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up.” + +“'The hidden message is made up of certain words and capital letters +contained in the first paragraph, while the presence of the letter t in +the second paragraph indicates the words or capital letters that count +in the first. One has only to note the numerical position of the letter +t in the second paragraph in order to know what capital letter or word +counts in the first paragraph.'” + +The Baronet took out a pencil and underscored the words in the second +paragraph of the printed cipher: “Have the bill of lading handed over to +our agent to check up.” + +“You will observe that the second, the eighth and the eleventh words +in this paragraph begin with the letter t. Therefore, the second, the +eighth and the eleventh capital letters or words in the first paragraph +make up the hidden message.” + +And again with his pencil he underscored the letters of the first +paragraph of the cipher: “P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight +steamer Don Carlos from N. Y.” + +“So we get L, on, Don.” + +“London!” cried Hargrave. “The nine-hundred horses are to come into +London!” + +And in his excitement he took the gold piece out of his pocket and +pitched it up. He had been stooping over the table. The fog was creeping +into the room. And in the uncertain light about the ceiling he missed +the gold piece and it fell on the table before Sir Henry. The gold piece +did not ring, it fell dull and heavy, and the big Baronet looked at it +openmouthed as though it had suddenly materialized out of the yellow fog +entering the room. + +“My word!” he cried. “One of the nine hundred horses!” + +Hargrave stopped motionless like a man stricken by some sorcery. + +“One of the nine hundred horses!” he echoed. + +The Baronet was digging at the gold piece with the blade of his knife. + +“Precisely! In the criminal argot a counterfeit American twenty-dollar +gold piece is called a 'horse.' + +“Look,” he said, and he dug into the coin with his knife, “it's white +inside, made of Babbit metal, milled with a file and gold-plated. Where +did you get it?” + +The American stammered. + +“Where could I have gotten it?” he murmured. + +“Well,” the Baronet said, “you might have got it from a big, old, +pasty-faced Alsatian; that would be 'Dago' Mulehaus. Or you might have +got it from an energetic, middle-aged, American woman posing as a social +leader in the States; that would be 'Hustling' Anne; both bad crooks, at +the head of an international gang of counterfeiters.” + + + + +XII. The Spread Rails + + +It was after dinner, in the great house of Sir Henry Marquis in St. +James's Square. + +The talk had run on the value of women in criminal investigation; +their skill as detective agents... the suitability of the feminine +intelligence to the hard, accurate labor of concrete deductions. + +It was the American Ambassadress, Lisa Lewis, who told the story. + + +It was a fairy night, and the thing was a fairy story. + +The sun had merely gone behind a colored window. The whole vault of the +heaven was white with stars. The road was like a ribbon winding through +the hills. In little whispers, in the dark places, Marion told me it. +We sat together in the tonneau of the motor. It was past midnight, of +a heavenly September. We were coming in from a stately dinner at the +Fanshaws'. + +A fairy story is a nice, comfortable human affair. It's about a hero, +and a thing no man could do, and a princess and a dragon. It tells +how the hero found the task that was too big for other men, how he +accomplished it, circumvented the dragon and won the princess. + +The Arabian formula fitted snugly to the facts. + +The great Dominion railroad, extending from Montreal into New York, was +having a run of terrible luck; one frightful wreck followed another. +Nobody could get the thing straightened out. Old Crewe, the railroad +commissioner of New York, was relentless in pressing hard conditions +on the road. Then out of the West, had come young Clinton Howard, big, +tawny, virile, like the race of heroes. He had cleaned out the tangles, +set the thing going, restored order and method; and the confidence of +Canada was flowing back. Then Howard had made love to Marion in +his persistent dominating fashion.... and here, with her whispered +confession, was the fairy story ended. + +Marion pointed her finger out north, where, far across the valley, a +great country-house sat on the summit of a wooded hill. + +“Clinton has discovered the Commissioner's secret, Sarah,” she said. +“The safety of the public isn't the only thing moving old Crewe to +hammer the railroad. He pretends it is. But in fact he wishes to get +control of the road in a bankrupt court.” + +She paused. + +“Crewe is a Nietzsche creature. Victory is the only thing with him. +Nothing else counts. The way the road was going he would have got it +in the bankrupt court by now. He's howling 'safety first' all over the +country. 'Negligence' is the big word in every report he issues. It +won't do for Clinton to have an accident now that any degree of human +foresight could have prevented.” + +“Well,” I said, “the dragon will give the hero no further trouble. Dr. +Martin told mother to-day that Mr. Crewe's mind had broken down, and +they had brought him out from New York. He got up in a directors' +meeting and tried to kill the president of the Pacific Trust Company, +with a chair. He went suddenly mad, Dr. Martin said.” + +Marion put out her hands in an unconscious gesture. + +“I am not surprised,” she said. “That sort of temperament in the strain +of a great struggle is apt to break down and attempt to gain its end by +some act of direct violence.” + +Then she added: + +“My grandfather says in his work on evidence that the human mind if +dominated by a single idea will finally break out in some bizarre act. +And he cites the case of the minister who, having maneuvered in vain +to compass the death of the king by some sort of accident, finally +undertook to kill him with an andiron.” + +She reflected a moment. + +“I am afraid,” she continued, “that the harm is already done. Crewe has +set the whole country on the watch. Clinton says there simply must not +be a slip anywhere now. The road must be safe; he must make it safe.” + She repeated her expression. + +“An accident now that any sort of human foresight could prevent would +ruin him.” + +“Oh, dear, it's an awful strain on us... on him,” she corrected. “He +simply can't be everywhere to see that everything is right and everybody +careful. And besides, there's the finances of the road to keep in shape. +He had to go to Montreal to-day to see about that.” + +She leaned over toward me in her eager interest. + +“I don't see how he can sleep with the thing on him. The big trains must +go through on time, and every workman and every piece of machinery must +be right as a clock. I get in a panic. I asked him to-day if he thought +he could run a railroad like that, like a machine, everything in place +on the second, and he said, 'Sure, Mike!'” + +I laughed. + +“'Sure, Mike,”' I said, “is the spirit in which the world is conquered.” + +And then the strange attraction of these two persons for one another +arose before me; this big, crude, virile, direct son of the hustling +West, and this delicate, refined, intellectual daughter of New England. +The ancestors of the man had been the fighting and the building pioneer. +And those of the girl, reflective people, ministers of the gospel and +counselors at law. Marion's grandfather had been a writer on the law. +Warfield on Evidence, had been the leading authority in this country. +And this ambitious girl had taken a special course in college to fit +her to revise her grandfather's great work. There was no grandson to +undertake this labor, and she had gone about the task herself. She would +not trust the great book to outside hands. A Warfield had written it, +and a Warfield should keep the edition up. Her revision was now in the +hands of a publisher in Boston, and it was sound and comprehensive, the +critics said; the ablest textbook on circumstantial evidence in America. +I looked in a sort of wonder at this girl, carried off her feet by a +tawny barbarian! + +Marion was absorbed in the thing; and I understood her anxiety. But the +most pressing danger, she did not seem to realize. + +It lay, I thought, in the revenge of a discharged workman. Clinton +Howard had to drop any number of incompetent persons, and they wrote him +all sorts of threatening letters, I had been told. With all the awful +things that happen over the country some of these angry people might do +anything. There are always some half-mad people. + +She went on. + +“But Clinton says the public is as just as Daniel. If he has an accident +in the ordinary course of affairs the public will hold him for it. But +if anything should happen that he could not help, the public will not +hold him responsible.” + +I realized the force of that. What reasonable human care could prevent +he must answer for, but the outrage of a criminal would not be taken in +the public mind against him. On the contrary, the sympathy of the public +would flow in. When the people feel that a man is making every effort +for their welfare, the criminal act of an outsider brings them over +wholly to his support. Profound interest carried Marion off her feet. + +“I was in a panic the other day, and Clinton said, 'Don't let rotten +luck get your goat. I'm done if an engineer runs by a block, but nothing +else can put it over on me'!” + +She laughed with me at the direct, virile idiom of young America in +action. + +An event interrupted the discourse. The motor took a sharp curve and a +young man running across the road suddenly flung himself face down in +the grass beyond the curb. + +“Is he hurt?” said Marion to the chauffeur. + +“No, Miss, he's hiding, Miss,” said the man, and we swept out of sight. + +I thought it more likely that the creature was in liquor. In spite +of the great country-houses, it was not good hunting-ground for the +criminal class, during the season when everybody was about. The very +number of servants, when a place is open, in a rather effective way, +police it. Besides the young man looked like a sort of workman. One gets +such impressions at a glance. + +The motor descended the long hill toward the river and the flat valley. +It hummed into the curves and hollows, through the pockets of chill air, +and out again into the soft September night. + +Then finally it swept out into the flat valley, and stopped with a grind +of the emergency brake that caused the wheels to skid, ripping up +the dust and gravel. For a moment in the jar and confusion we did not +realize what had happened, then we saw a great locomotive lying on its +side, and a line of Pullmans, sunk to the axles in the soft earth. + +The whole “Montreal Express” was derailed, here in the flat land at the +grade crossing. The thing had been done some time. The fire had been +drawn from the engine; there was only a sputtering of steam. The +passengers had been removed. A wrecking-car had come up from down the +line. A telegrapher was setting up a little instrument on a box by the +roadside. A lineman was climbing a pole to connect his wire. A track +boss with a torch and a crew of men were coming up from an examination +of the line littered with its wreck. + +I hardly know what happened in the next few minutes. We were out of the +motor and among the men almost before the car stopped. + +No one had been hurt. The passenger-coaches were not turned over, and +the engineer and fireman had jumped as the cab toppled. By the greatest +good fortune the train had gone off the track in this low flat land +almost level with the grade. Several things joined to avoid a terrible +disaster; the flat ground that enabled the whole train to plow along +upright until it stopped, the track lying flush with the highway where +the engine went off, and the fact that trains must slow up for this +grade crossing. Had there been an embankment, or a big ditch, or the +train under its usual headway the wreck would have been a horror, for +every wheel, from the engine to the last coach, had left the rails. + +We were an excited group around the train's crew, when the trackman +came up with his torch. Everybody asked the same question as the man +approached. + +“What caused the accident?” + +“Spread rails,” he said. “These big brutes,” he pointed to the mammoth +engine sprawling like a child's top on its side, the gigantic wheels +in the air, “and these new steel coaches, are awful heavy. There's an +upgrade here. When they struck it, they just spread out the rails.” + +And he pushed his closed hands out before him, slowly apart, in +illustration. + +The man knew Marion, for he spoke directly to her in reply to our +concerted query. Then he added “If you step down the track, Miss +Warfield, I'll show you exactly how it happened.” + +We followed the big workman with his torch. Marion walked beside him, +and I a few steps behind. The girl had been plunged, on the instant, +headlong into the horror she feared, into the ruin that she had lain +awake over--and yet she met it with no sign, except that grim stiffening +of the figure that disaster brings to persons of courage. She gave no +attention to her exquisite gown. It was torn to pieces that night; my +own was a ruin. The crushing effect of this disaster swept out every +trivial thing. + +In a moment we saw how the accident happened, the workman lighting the +sweep of track with his torch. Here were the plow marks on the wooden +cross ties, where the wheels had run after they left the rails. One saw +instantly that the thing happened precisely as the workman explained +it. When the heavy engine struck the up-grade, the rails had spread, +the wheels had gone down on the cross-ties, and the whole train was +derailed. + +I saw it with a sickening realization of the fact. + +Marion took the workman's torch and went over the short piece of track +on which the thing had happened. All the evidences of the accident were +within a short distance. The track was not torn up when the thing began. +There was only the displaced rail pushed away, and the plow marks of the +wheels on the ties. The spread rails had merely switched the train off +the track onto the level of the highway roadbed into the flat field. + +Marion and the workman had gone a little way down the track. I was quite +alone at the point of accident, when suddenly some one caught my hand. + +I was so startled that I very nearly screamed. The thing happened so +swiftly, with no word. + +There behind me was a woman, an old foreign woman, a peasant from some +land of southern Europe. She had my hand huddled up to her mouth. + +And she began to speak, bending her aged body, and with every expression +of respect. + +“Ah, Contessa, he is not do it, my Umberto. He is run away in fear to +hide in the Barrington quarry. It is accident. It is the doing of the +good God. Ah, Contessa,” and her old lips dabbed against my hand. “I +beg him to not go, but he is discharge; an' he make the threat like the +great fool. Ah, Contessa, Contessa,” and she went over the words with +absurd repetition, “believe it is by chance, believe it is the doing +of the good God, I pray you.” And so she ran on in her quaint old-world +words. + +Instantly I remembered the man lying by the roadside, and the threats of +discharged workmen. + +I told her the thing was a clean accident, and tried to show her how it +came about. She was effusive in gratitude for my belief. But she seemed +concerned about Marion and the others. She did not go away; she went +over and sat down beside the track. + +Presently the others returned. They were so engrossed that they did not +notice my adventure or the aged woman seated on the ground. + +Marion was putting questions to the workman. + +“There was no obstruction on the track?” + +“No, Miss.” + +“The engineer was watching?” + +“Yes, Miss Warfield, he had to slow up and be careful about the +crossing. There is no curve on this grade, he could see every foot of +the way. The track was clear and in place, and he was watching it. There +was nothing on it.--The rails simply spread under the weight of the +engine.” + +And he began to comment on the excessive size and weight of the huge +modern passenger engine. + +“The brute drove the rails apart,” he said, “that's all there is to it.” + +“Was the track in repair?” said Marion. + +“It was patrolled to-day, Miss, and it was all in shape.” + +Then he repeated: + +“The big engine just pushed the rails out.” + +“But the road is built for this type of engine,” said Marion. + +“Yes, Miss Warfield,” replied the man, “it's supposed to be, but every +roadbed gets a spread rail sometimes.” + +Then he added: + +“It has to be mighty solid to hold these hundred ton engines on the +rails at sixty miles an hour.” + +“It does hold them,” said Marion. + +“Yes, Miss Warfield, usually,” said the man. + +“Then why should it fail here?” + +The man's big grimy face wrinkled into a sort of smile. + +“Now, Miss Warfield,” he said, “if we knew why an accident was likely to +happen at one place more than another we wouldn't have any wrecks.” + +“Precisely,” replied Marion, “but isn't it peculiar that the track +should spread at the synclinal of this grade with the train running at +a reduced speed, when it holds on the synclinal of other grades with the +train running at full speed?” + +The man's big face continued to smile. + +“All accidents are peculiar, Miss Warfield; that's what makes them +accidents.” + +“But,” said Marion, “is not the aspect of these peculiarities indicatory +of either a natural event or one designed by a human intelligence?” + +The man fingered his torch. + +“Mighty strange things happen, Miss Warfield. I've seen a train go +over into a canal and one coach lodge against a tree that was standing +exactly in the right place to save it. And I've seen a passenger engine +run by a signal and through a block and knock a single car out of a +passing freight-train, at a crossing, and that car be the very one that +the freight train's brakeman had just reached on his way to the caboose; +just like somebody had timed it all, to the second, to kill him. And +I've seen a whole wreck piled up, as high as a house, on top of a man, +and the man not scratched.” + +“I do not mean the coincidence of accident,” said Marion, “that is +a mystery beyond us; what I mean is that there must be an organic +difference in the indicatory signs of a thing as it happens in the +course of nature, and as it happens by human arrangement.” + +The trackman was a person accustomed to the reality and not the theory +of things. + +“I don't see how the accident would have been any different,” he said, +“if somebody had put that tree in the right spot to catch the coach; or +timed the minute with a stop-watch to kill that brakeman; or piled that +wreck on the man so it wouldn't hurt him. The result would have been +just the same.” + +“The result would have been the same,” replied Marion, “but the +arrangement of events would have been different.” + +“Just what way different, Miss Warfield?” said the man. + +“We cannot formulate an iron rule about that,” replied Marion, “but as +a general thing catastrophes in nature seem to lack a motive, and their +contributing events are not forced.” + +The big trackman was a person of sound practical sense. He knew what +Marion was after, but he was confused by the unfamiliar terms in which +the idea was stated. + +“It's mighty hard to figure out,” he said. “Of course, when you find an +obstruction on the track or a crowbar under a rail, or some plain thing, +you know.” + +Then he added: + +“You've got to figure out a wreck from what seems likely.” + +“There you have it exactly,” said Marion. “You must begin your +investigation from what your common experience indicates is likely +to happen. Now, your experience indicates that the rails of a track +sometimes spread under these heavy engines.” + +“Yes, Miss Warfield.” + +“And your experience indicates that this is more likely to happen at +the first rise of the synclinal on a grade than anywhere on a straight +track.” + +“Yes, Miss Warfield.” + +“Good!” said Marion, “so far. But does not your experience also indicate +that such an accident usually happens when the train is running at a +high rate of speed?” + +“Yes, Miss Warfield,” said the man. “It's far more likely to happen +then, because the engine strikes the rails at the first rise of the +grade with more force. Naturally a thing hits harder when it's going... +But it might happen with a slow train.” + +Marion made a gesture as of one rejecting the man's final sentence. + +“When you turn that way,” she said, “you at once leave the lines of +greatest probability. Why should you follow the preponderance of common +experience on two features here, and turn aside from it on the third +feature?” + +“Because the thing happened,” replied the man, with the directness of +those practical persons who drive through to the fact. + +“That is to say an unlikely thing happened!” Marion made a decisive +gesture with her clenched fingers. “Thus, the inquiry, beginning with +two consistent elements, now comes up against one that is inconsistent.” + +“But not impossible,” said the man. + +“Possible,” said Marion, “but not likely. Not to be expected, not in +line with the preponderance of common experience; therefore, not to +be passed. We have got to stop here and try to find out why this track +spread under a slow train.” + +“But we see it spread, Miss Warfield,” said the trackman with a +conclusive gesture. + +“True,” replied Marion, “we see that it did spread, under this +condition, but why?” + +The old woman sitting beside the track seemed to realize what was +under way; for she rose and came over to where I stood. “Contessa,” she +whispered, in those quaint, old world words, “do not reveal, what I have +tol'. I pray you!” + +And she followed me across the few steps to where the others stood. + +I did not answer. I stood like one in some Hellenic drama, between +two tragic figures. The love of woman lay in the solution of this +problem--in the beginning and at the end of life. + +Marion and the big track boss continued with this woman looking on. + +I feared to speak or move; the thing was like a sort of trap, set with +ghastly cunning, by some evil Fate. The ruin of a woman it would have. +And perhaps on the vast level plain where it evilly dwelt, through +its hard all-seeing eyes, the ruin and the sorrow either way would be +precisely equal. How could I, then, lay a finger on the scale. + +“Now,” said Marion, “when the engine reached this point on the track, +one of the rails gave way first.” + +The big workman looked steadily at her. + +“How do you know that, Miss Warfield?” he said. + +“Because,” replied Marion, “the marks of the wheels of the locomotive +on the ties are found, in the beginning, only on one side of the track, +showing that the rail on that side gave way, when the engine struck it, +and the other rail for some distance bore the weight of the train.” + +She illustrated with her hands. + +“When the one rail was pushed out, the wheels on that side went down and +continued on the ties, while the wheels on the other side went ahead on +the firm rail.” + +The workman saw it. + +“That's true, Miss Warfield,” he said, “one rail sometimes spreads and +the other holds solid.” + +Marion was absorbed in the problem. + +“But why should the one rail give way like this and its companion hold?” + +“One of the rails might not be as solid as the other,” said the man. + +“But it should have been nearly as solid,” replied Marion. “This piece +of track, you tell me, was examined to-day; the ties are equally +sound on both sides, the rail is the same weight. We have the right to +conclude then that each of these rails was about in the same condition. +I do not say precisely in the same condition. Now, it is true that +under these conditions one of the rails might have been pushed out of +alignment before the other. We can grant a certain factor of difference, +a certain reasonable factor of difference. But not a great factor of +difference. We have a right to conclude that one rail would give way +before the other. But not that one would very readily give way before +the other. For some reason this particular rail did give way, much more +readily than it ought to have done.” + +The trackman was listening with the greatest interest. + +“Just how do you know that, Miss Warfield?” he said. + +“Why,” replied Marion, “don't you see, from the mark on the ties, that +the engine wheels left the rail almost at the moment they struck it. The +marks of the wheels commence on the second tie ahead of the beginning of +the rail. Therefore, this rail, for some reason, was more easily pushed +out of alignment than it should have been. What was the reason?” + +The track boss reflected. + +“You see, Miss Warfield, this place is the beginning of an up-grade, the +engine was coming down a long grade toward it, so when this train struck +the first rails of the up-grade it struck it just like you'd drive in +a wedge, and the hundred-ton brute of an engine jammed this rail out of +alignment. That's all there is to it. When the rail sprung the wheels +went down on the ties on that side and the train was ditched.” + +“It was a clean accident, then, you think?” said Marion. + +“Sure, Miss Warfield,” replied the man. “If anybody had tried to move +that rail out of alignment, he would have to disconnect it at the other +end, that is, take off the plate that joins it to the next rail. That +would leave the end of the rail clean, with no broken plate. But the end +of the rail is bent and the plate is twisted off. We looked at that the +first thing. Nobody could twist that plate off. The engine did it when +it left the track. + +“You see, Miss Warfield, the weight of the engine, like a wedge, simply +forced one of these rails out of alignment. Don't you understand how a +hundred ton wedge driven against the track, at the start of an upgrade, +could do it?” + +The old peasant woman stood behind the track boss. The thing was a sort +of awful game. She did not speak, but the vicissitudes of the inquiry +advanced her, or retired her, with the effect of points, won or lost. + +“I understand perfectly,” replied Marion, “how the impact of the heavy +engine might drive both rails out of alignment, if they offered an equal +resistance, or one of them out if it offered a less resistance. This is +straight track. The wedge would go in even. It should have spread +the rails equally. That's the probable thing. But instead it did the +improbable thing; it spread one. I hold the improbable thing always in +question. Human knowledge is built up on that postulate. + +“True, a certain factor of difference in conditions must be allowed, as +I have said, but an excessive factor cannot be allowed. We have got +to find it, or discard human reason as an implement for getting at the +truth.” + +Again the big track boss smashed through the niceties of logic. + +“These things happen all the time, Miss Warfield. You can't figure it +out.” + +“One ought to be able to determine it,”' replied the girl. + +The track boss shook his head. + +“We can't tell what made that rail give.” + +“Of course, we can tell,” said Marion. “It gave because it was +weakened.” + +“But what weakened it?” replied the man. “You can't tell that? The +rail's sound.” + +“There could be only two causes,” said Marion. “It was either weakened +by a natural agency or a human agency.” + +The track boss made an annoyed gesture, like a practical person vexed +with the refinements of a theorist. + +“But how are you going to tell?” + +“Now,” said Marion, “there is always a point as you follow a thing down, +where the human design in it must appear, if there is a human design in +it. The human mind can falsify events within a limited area. But if one +keeps moving out, as from a center, he will find somewhere this point at +which intelligence is no longer able to imitate the aspect of the result +of natural forces... I think we have reached it.” + +She paused and drove her query at the track boss. + +“The spikes on the outside of this rail held it in place, did they not?” + +“Yes, Miss Warfield.” + +“Did the impact of the engine force these spikes out of the ties?” + +“Yes, Miss Warfield, it forced them out.” + +“How do you know it forced them out?” + +“Well, Miss Warfield,” said the man, pointing to the rail and the +denuded cross-ties, don't you see they're out?” + +“I see that they are out,” replied Marion, “but I do not yet see that +they have been forced out.” + +She moved a step closer to the track boss and her voice hardened. “If +these spikes were forced out by the impact of the engine, we ought to +find torn spike holes inclining toward the end of the crossties.... +Look!” + +The big practical workman suddenly realized what the girl meant. + +He stooped over and began to flash his torch along the end of the ties. +We crowded against him. Every one of the spike holes, for the entire +length of the rail, was straight and clean. The man seized one of the +spikes and scrutinized it under his torch. + +Then he stood up. For a moment he did not speak. He merely looked at +Marion. “It's the holy truth!” he said. “Somebody pulled these spikes +with a clawbar. That weakened the rail, and she bowed out when the +engine struck her.” + +Then he turned around, and shouted down the track to his crew. “Hey, +boys! Spread out along the right of way and see if you can't find +a claw-bar. The devils that do these tricks always throw away their +tools.” + +We stood together in a little tragic group. The old peasant woman came +over to where I stood, she walked with a dead, wooden step. “Contessa,” + she whispered, her old lips against my hand. “You will save him?” + +And suddenly with a wild human resentment, I longed to cut a way out of +the trap of this Fatality; to force its ruthless decree into a sort of +equity, if I could do it. + +“Yes,” I said, “I will save him!” + +It was an impulse with no plan behind it. But the dabbing of the +withered mouth on my fingers was like actual physical contact with a +human heart. + +For a moment she looked at me as one among the damned might look at +Michael. Then she went slowly away, down through the wooded copse of the +meadow. And I turned about to meet Marion. I knew that she was now after +the identity of the wrecker, and I faced her to foul her lines. + +“This is not the work of one with murder in his heart,” she said “A +criminal agent set on a ruthless destruction of property and life would +have drawn these spikes on a trestle or an embankment, at a point where +the train would be running at high speed.” + +She paused for a moment, then she went on speaking to me as though she +merely uttered her mental comment to herself. + +“These spikes are drawn at a point where the train slows down for a +crossing and precisely where the engine would go off onto the hard +road-bed of the highway into a level meadow. That means some one planned +this wreck to result in the least destruction of life and property +possible. Now, what class of persons could be after the effect of a +wreck, exclusive of a loss of life?” + +I saw where her relentless deductions would presently lead. This was +precisely the result that a discharged foreign workman would seek in his +reprisal. This man would have hot blood, the southern Europe instinct +for revenge, but with such a mother, no mere lust to kill. I tried to +divert her from the fugitive. + +“Train robbers,” I said. “I wonder what was in the express-car?” + +She very nearly laughed. “This is New York,” she said, “not Arizona. And +besides there was no express-car. This thing was done by somebody who +wanted the effect of a wreck, and nothing else, and it was done by some +one who knew about railroads. + +“Now, what class of persons who know about railroads could be moved by +that motive?” + +She was driving straight now at the boy I stood to cover. At another +step she would name the class. Discharged workmen would know about +railroads; they would be interested to show how less efficient the +road was without them; and a desperate one might plan such a wreck as +a demonstration. If so, he would wish only the effect of the wreck, +and not loss of life. Marion was going dead ahead on the right line, +in another moment she would remember the man we passed, and the “black +band” letters. I made a final desperate effort to divert her. + +“Come along!” I called, “the first thing to do now is to talk with +Clinton Howard. The nearest telephone will be at Crewe's house on the +hill.” + +And it won. + +“Lisa!” she cried, “you're right I We must tell him at once.” + +We hurried down the track to the motor-car. I had gained a little time. +But how could I keep my promise. And the next moment the problem became +more difficult. The track boss came up with a short iron bar that his +men had found in the weeds along the right of way. + +“There's the claw-bar, that the devil done it with,” he said. + +“You can tell it's just been handled by the way the rust's rubbed off.” + +It was conclusive evidence. Everybody could see how the workman's hands, +as he labored with the claw-bar to draw the spikes, had cleaned off the +rust. + +I hurried the motor away. We raced up the long winding road to Crewe's +country-house, sitting like a feudal castle on the summit. And I +wondered, at every moment, how I could keep my promise. The boy was a +criminal, deserving to be hanged, no doubt, but the naked mother's heart +that had dabbed against my fingers overwhelmed me. + +Almost in a flash, I thought, we were in the grounds and before Crewe's +house. Then I noticed lights and a confusion of voices. No one came to +meet us. And we got out of the motor and went in through the open door. +We found a group of excited servants. An old butler began to stammer to +Marion. + +“It was his heart, Miss... the doctor warned the attendants. But he +got away to-night. It was overexertion, Miss. He fell just now as the +attendants brought him in.” And he flung open the library door. + +On a leather couch illumined by the brilliant light, Crewe lay; his +massive relentless face with the great bowed nose, like the iron cast +of what Marion had called a Nietzsche creature, motionless in death; his +arms straight beside him with the great gloved hands open. + +And all at once, at the sight, with a heavenly inspiration, I kept my +promise. + +“Look!” I cried. “Oh, everybody, how the palms of his gloves are covered +with rust!” + + + + +XIII. The Pumpkin Coach + + +The story of the American Ambassadress was not the only one related on +this night. + +Sir Henry Marquis himself added another, in support of the contention of +his guest... and from her own country. + + +The lawyer walked about the room. The restraint which he had assumed was +now quite abandoned. + +“That's all there is to it,” he said. “I'm not trying this case for +amusement. You have the money to pay me and you must bring it up here +now, tonight.” + +The woman sat in a chair beyond the table. She was young, but she looked +worn and faded. Misery and the long strain of the trial had worn her +out. Her hands moved nervously in the frayed coat-cuffs. + +“But we haven't any more money,” she said. “The hundred dollars I paid +you in the beginning is all we have.” + +The man laughed without disturbing the muscles of his face. “You +can take your choice,” he said. “Either bring the money up here now, +to-night, or I withdraw from the case when court opens in the morning.” + +“But where am I to get any more money?” the woman said. + +The lawyer was a big man. His hair, black and thin, was brushed close to +his head as though wet with oil; his nose was thick and flattened at +the base. The office contained only a table, some chairs and a file for +legal papers. Night was beginning to descend. Lights were appearing in +the city. The two persons had come in from the Criminal Court after the +session for the day had ended. + +The woman seemed bewildered. She looked at the man with the curious +expression of a child that does not comprehend and is afraid to ask for +an explanation. + +“If we had any more money,” she said, “I would bring it to you, but the +hundred dollars was all we had.” + +Then she began to explain, reiterating minute details. When the tragedy +occurred and her husband was arrested by the police they had a small +sum painfully saved up. It was now wholly gone. Like persons in profound +misery, she repeated. The man halted the recital with a brutal gesture. + +“I'll not discuss it,” he said. “You can bring the money in here before +the court convenes in the morning, or I withdraw from the case.” + +He went over to the file, took out a packet of legal papers and threw +them on the table. + +“All right, my lady!” he said, “perhaps you think your husband can get +along without a lawyer. Perhaps you think the devil will save him, or +heaven, or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!” There was biting irony in the +bitter words. + +A sudden comprehension began to appear in the woman's face. She realized +now what the man was driving at. The expression in her face deepened +into a sort of wonder, a sort of horror. + +“You think he's guilty!” she said. “You think we got the money and we're +trying to keep it, to hide it.” + +The lawyer turned about, put both hands on the table and leaned across +it. He looked the woman in the face. + +“Never mind what I believe; you heard what I said!” + +For a moment the woman did not move. Then she got up slowly and went +out. In the street she seemed lost. She remained for some time before +the entrance of the building. Night had now arrived. Crowds of people +were passing, intent on their affairs, unconcerned. No one seemed to see +the figure motionless in the shadow of the great doorway. + +Presently the woman began to walk along the street in the crowd without +giving any attention to the people about her or to the direction she was +taking. She was in that state of mental coma which attends persons in +despair. She neither felt nor appreciated anything and she continued to +walk in the direction in which the crowd was moving. + +Some block in the traffic checked the crowd and the woman stopped. The +block cleared and the human tide drifted on, but the woman remained. The +crowd edged her over to the wall and she stood there before the +shutter of a shop-window. After a time the crowd passed, thinned and +disappeared, but the woman remained as though thrown out there by the +human eddy. + +The woman remained for a long time unmoving against the shutter of the +shop-window. Finally she was awakened into life by a voice speaking to +her. It was a soft, foreign voice that lisped the liquid accents of the +occasional English words: + +“Ma pauvre femme!” it said; “come with me. Vous etes malade!” + +The woman followed mechanically in a sort of wonder. The person who had +spoken to her was young and beautifully dressed in furs that covered her +to her feet. She had gotten down from a motorcar that stood beside the +curb--one of those modern vehicles, fitted with splendid trappings. + +Beyond the shop-window was a great cafe. The girl entered and the woman +followed. The attendants came forward to welcome the splendid visitor as +one whose arrival at this precise hour of the evening had become a sort +of custom. She gave some directions in a language which the woman did +not understand, and they were seated at a table. + +The waiters brought a silver dish filled with a clear, steaming soup and +served it. The girl threw back her fur coat and the dazed woman realized +how beautiful she was. Her hair was yellow like ripe corn and there were +masses of it banked and clustered about her head; her eyes were blue, +and her voice, soft and alluring, was like a friendly arm put around the +heart. + +The miserable woman was so confused by this transformation--by the +sudden swing of the door in the wall that had admitted her into this +new, unfamiliar world--that she was never afterward able to remember +precisely by what introductory words her story was drawn out. She found +herself taken up, comforted and made to tell it. + +Her husband had been a butler in the service of a Mr. Marsh, an +eccentric man who lived in one of the old downtown houses of the +city. He was a retired banker with no family. The man lived alone. He +permitted no servants in the house except the butler. Meals were sent +in on order from a neighboring hotel and served by the butler as the man +directed. He received few visitors in the house and no tradespeople were +permitted to come in. There seemed no reason for this seclusion except +the eccentricities of the man that had grown more pronounced with +advancing years. + +It was the custom of the butler to leave the house at eight o'clock in +the evening and return in the morning at seven. On the morning of +the third of February, when the butler entered the house, as he was +accustomed to do at eight o'clock in the morning, he found his master +dead. + +The woman continued with her narrative, speaking slowly. Every detail +was vividly impressed upon her memory and she gave it accurately, +precisely. + +There was a narrow passage or hall, not more than three feet in width, +leading from the butler's pantry into a little dining-room. This +dining-room the old man had fitted up as a sort of library. It was +farther than any other room from the noises of the city. His library +table was placed with one end against the left wall of the room and he +sat with his back toward the passage into the butler's pantry. On the +morning of the third of February he was found dead in his chair. He had +been stabbed in the back, on the left side, where the neck joins to +the shoulder. A carving-knife had been used and a single blow had +accomplished the murder. + +It was known that on the evening before the old banker had taken from a +safety-deposit vault the sum of $20,000, which it was his intention +to invest in some securities. This money, in bills of very large +denominations, was in the top drawer on the right side of the desk. The +dead man had apparently not been touched after the crime, but the drawer +had been pried open and the money taken. An ice-pick from the butler's +pantry had been used to force it. The assassin had left no marks, +finger-prints or tell-tale stains. The victim had been instantly killed +with the blow of the knife which lay on the floor beside him. + +The butler had been arrested, charged with the crime, and his trial was +now going on in the Criminal Court. Circumstantial evidence was strong +against him. The woman spoke as though she echoed the current comment of +the courtroom without realizing how it affected her. She had done what +she could. She had employed an attorney at the recommendation of a +person who had come to interview her. She did not know who the person +was nor why she should have employed this attorney at his suggestion, +except that some one must be had to defend her husband, and uncertain +what to do, she had gone to the first name suggested. + +The girl listened, putting now and then a query. She spoke slowly, +careful to use only English words. And while the woman talked she made +a little drawing on the blank back of a menu card. Now she began to +question the woman minutely about the details of the room and the +position of the furniture where the tragedy had occurred, the desk, +the attitude of the dead man, the location of the wound, and exact +distances. And as the woman repeated the evidence of the police officers +and the experts, the girl filled out her drawing with nice mathematical +exactness like one accustomed to such a labor. + +This was the whole story, and now the woman added the final interview +with the attorney. She made a sort of hopeless gesture. + +“Nobody believes us,” she said. “My husband did not kill him. He was at +home with me. He knew nothing about it until he found his master dead +at the table in the morning. But there is only our word against all the +lawyers and detectives and experts that Mr. Thompson has brought against +us.” + +“Who is Mr. Thompson?” said the girl. She was deep in a study of her +little drawing. + +“He's Mr. Marsh's nephew, Mr. Percy Thompson.” + +The girl, absorbed in the study of her drawing, now put an unexpected +question. + +“Has your husband lost an arm?” + +“No,” she said, “he never had any sort of accident.” + +A great light came into the girl's face. “Then I believe you,” she said. +“I believe every word.... I think your husband is innocent.” + +The girl was aglow with an enthusiastic purpose. It was all there in her +fine, expressive face. + +“Now,” she said, “tell me about this nephew, this Mr. Percy Thompson. +Could we by any chance see him?” + +“It won't do any good to see him,” replied the woman. “He is determined +to convict my husband. Nothing can change him.” + +The girl went on without paying any attention to the comment. “Where +does he live--you must have heard?” + +“He lives at the Markheim Hotel,” she said. + +“The Markheim Hotel,” repeated the girl. “Where is it?” + +The woman gave the street and number. The girl rose. “That's on my way; +we'll stop.” + +The two-went out of the cafe to the motor. The whole thing, incredible +at any other hour, seemed to the woman like events happening in a dream +or in some topsy-turvy country which she had mysteriously entered. + +She sat back in the tonneau of the motor, huddled into the corner, a rug +around her shoulders. The flashing lights seemed those of some distant, +unknown city, as though she were transported into the scene of an +Arabian tale. + +The motor stopped before a little shabby hotel in a neighboring +cross-street, and the footman, in livery beside the driver, got down at +a direction of the girl and went up the steps. In a few moments a man +came out and descended to the motor standing by the curb. He was +about middle age. He looked as though Nature had intended him, in the +beginning, for a person of some distinction, but he had the dissipated +face of one at middle age who had devoted his years to a life of +pleasure. There were hard lines about his mouth and a purple network of +veins showing about the base of his nose. + +As he approached the girl, leaning out of the open window of the +tonneau, dropped her glove as by inadvertence. The man stooped, +recovered it and returned it to her. The girl started with a perceptible +gesture. Then she cried out in her charming voice, + +“Merci, monsieur. I stopped a moment to thank you for the flowers you +sent me last night. It was lovely of you!” and she indicated the bunch +of roses pinned to her corsage. + +The man seemed astonished. For a moment he hesitated as though about +to make some explanation, but the girl went on without regarding his +visible embarrassment. + +“You shall not escape with a denial,” she said. “There was no card and +you did not do me the honor to wait at the door, but I know you sent +them--an usher saw you; you shall not escape my appreciation. You did +send them?” she said. + +The man laughed. “Sure,” he said, “if you insist.” He was willing to +profit by this unexpected error, and the girl went on: + +“I have worn the roses to-day,” she said, “for you. Will you wear one of +them to-morrow for me?” + +She detached a bud and leaned out of the door of the motor. She pinned +the bud to the lapel of the man's coat. She did it slowly, deliberately, +like one who makes the touch of the fingers do the service of a caress. + +Then she spoke to the driver and the motor went on, leaving the amazed +man on the curb before the shabby Markheim Hotel with the rosebud pinned +to his coat--astonished at the incredible fortune of this favor from an +inaccessible idol about whom the city raved. + +The woman accepted the enigma of this interview as she had accepted the +wonder of the girl's sudden appearance and the other, incidents of this +extraordinary night. She did not undertake to imagine what the drawing +on the menu meant, the words about the one-armed man, the glove dropped +for Thompson to pick up, the rose pinned on his coat; it was all of a +piece with the mystery that she had stumbled into. + +When the motor stopped and she was taken through a little door by an +attendant into a theater box, she accepted that as another of these +things into which she could not inquire; things that happened to her +outside of her volition and directed by authorities which she could not +control. + +The staging of the opera refined and extended the illusion that she had +been transported out of the world by some occult agency. The wonderful +creature that had taken her up out of her abandoned misery before the +sordid shop-shutter appeared now in a fairy costume glittering with +jewels. And the gnomes, the monsters and goblins appearing about her +were all fabulous creatures, as the girl herself seemed a fabulous +creature. + +She sighed like one who must awaken from the splendor of a dream to +realities of which the sleeper is vaguely conscious. Only the girl's +voice seemed real. It seemed some great, heavenly reality like the +sunlight or the sweep of the sea. It filled the packed places of the +theater. She sang and one believed again in the benevolence of heaven; +in immortal love. To the distressed woman effacing herself in the corner +of the empty box it was all a sort of inconceivable witch-work. + +And it was witch-work, as potent if not as amply fitted with dramatic +properties as the witchwork of ancient legend. + +The daughter of an obscure juge d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud, +singing in a Swiss meadow, had been taken up by a wealthy American, +traveling in Switzerland on an April morning-old, enervated with the sun +of the Riviera, and displeased with life. And this rich old woman, her +rheumatic fingers loaded with jewels, had transformed the daughter of +the juge d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud into a singing wonder that +made every human creature see again the dreams of his youth before him +leading into the Elysian Fields. + +And to the girl herself this transformation also seemed the wonder +of witch-work. Her early life lay so far below in a world remote and +detached; a little house in a village of the Canton of Vaud with +the genteel poverty that attended the slender salary of a juge +d'instruction, and the weight of duties that accumulated on her +shoulders. Her father's life was given over to the labors of criminal +investigation, but it was a field that returned nothing in the way of +material gain. Honorable mention, a medal, the distinction of having his +reports copied into the official archives, were the fruits of the man's +life. She remembered the minutely exhaustive details of those reports +which she used to copy painfully at night by the light of a candle. +The old man, absorbed by his deductions, with his trained habits of +observation and his prodigious memory, never seemed to realize the +drudgery imposed upon the girl by his endless dictation. + +“To-morrow,” the heavenly creature had said softly, like a caress, in +the woman's ear when an attendant had taken her through the little +door into the empty box. But the to-morrow broke with every illusion +vanished. + +The woman sat beside her husband in the dismal court-room when the court +convened. The judge, old and tired, was on the bench. A sulphurous, +depressing fog entered from the city. The court-room smelled of a +cleaner's mop. The jury entered; and a few spectators, who looked as +though they might have spent the night on the benches of the park out, +side, drifted in. The attorneys and the officials of the court were +present and the trial resumed. + +Every detail of the departed, evening was, to the woman, a mirage except +the brutal threat of the attorney, uttered before she had gone down into +the street. This threat, with that power of reality which evil things +seem always to possess, now materialized. After the court had opened, +but before the trial could proceed, the attorney for the defendant rose +and addressed the court. + +He spoke for some moments, handling his innuendoes with skill. His +intent was to withdraw from the case. He realized that this was an +unusual procedure and that the course must be justified upon a high +ethical plane. He was a person of acumen and of no inconsiderable skill +and he succeeded. Without making any direct charge, and disclaiming any +intent to prejudice the prisoner and his defense, or to deprive him of +any safeguard of the law, he was able to convey the impression that +he had been misled in undertaking the defense of the case; that +his confidence in the innocence of the accused had been removed by +unquestionable evidence which he had been led to believe did not exist. + +He made this explanation with profound regret. But he felt that, having +been induced to undertake the defense by representations not justified +in fact, and by an impression of the nature of the case which +developments in the court-room had not confirmed, he had the right to +step aside out of an equivocal position. He wished to do this without +injury to the prisoner and while there was yet an opportunity for him to +obtain other counsel. The whole tenor of the speech was the right to be +relieved from the obligation of an error; an error that had involved him +unwittingly by reason of assurances which the developments of the case +had now set aside. And through it all there was the manifest wish to do +the prisoner no vestige of injury. + +After this speech of his attorney the conviction of the man was +inevitable. He sat stooped over, his back bent, his head down, his +thin hands aimlessly in his lap like one who has come to the end of +all things; like one who no longer makes any effort against a destiny +determined on his ruin. + +The thing had the overpowering vitality which evil things seem always +to possess, and the woman felt helpless against it; so utterly, so +completely helpless that it was useless to protest by any word or +gesture. She could have gotten up and explained the true motive behind +this man's speech; she could have repeated the dialogue in his office; +she could have asserted his unspeakable treachery; but she saw with an +unerring instinct that against the skill of the man her effort would be +wholly useless. With his resources and his dominating cunning he would +not only make her words appear obviously false, but he would make them +fasten upon her a malicious intent to injure the man who had undertaken +her husband's defense; and somehow he would be able, she felt, to divert +the obliquity and cause it to react upon herself. + +This was all clear to her, and like some little trapped creature of +the wood that finds escape closed on every side and no longer makes any +effort, she remained motionless. + +The judge was an honorable man, concerned to accomplish justice and not +always misled by an obvious intent. The proceeding did not please him, +but he knew that no benefit, rather a continued injury, would result to +the prisoner by forcing the attorney to go on with a case which it +was evident that he no longer cared to make any effort to support. He +permitted the man to withdraw. Then he spoke to the prisoner. + +“Have you any other counsel?” he asked. + +The prisoner did not look up. He replied in a low, almost inaudible +voice. + +“No, Your Honor,” he said. + +“Then I shall appoint some one to go on with the case,” and he looked up +over the docket before him and out at the few attorneys sitting within +the rail. + +It was at this moment that the woman, crying silently, without a sound +and without moving in her chair, heard behind her the voice which she +had heard the evening before, when, as now, at the bottom of the pit, +she stood before the shutter of the shop-window. + +“Will it be necessary, monsieur le judge?” + +It was the same wonderful, moving, heavenly voice. Every sound in the +court-room suddenly ceased. All eyes were lifted. And Thompson, sitting +beside the district-attorney, saw, standing before the rail in the +court-room, the splendid, alluring creature that had called him out +of the sordid lobby of the Hotel Markheim and entranced him with an +evidence of her favor. Unconsciously he put up his hand to feel for +the bud in the lapel of his coat. It had remained there--not, as it +happened, from her wish, but because he dare not lay the coat aside. + +In the interval of intense interest arising at the withdrawal of the +attorney from the case the girl had come in unnoticed. She might have +appeared out of the floor. Her voice was the first indication of her +presence. + +The judge turned swiftly. “What do you mean?” he said. + +“I mean, monsieur,” she answered, “that if a man is innocent of a crime, +he cannot require a lawyer to defend him.” + +The judge was astonished, but he was an old man and had seen many +strange events happen along the way of a criminal trial. + +“But why do you say this man is innocent,” he said. + +“I will show you, monsieur,” and she came around the railing into the +pit of the court before his bench. She carried in her hand the menu +upon which, at the table in the cafe the night before, she had made a +drawing of the scene of the homicide. + +The extraordinary event had happened so swiftly that the attorney for +the prosecution had not been able to interpose an objection. Now the +nephew of the dead man spoke hurriedly, in whispers, and the attorney +arose. + +“I object to this irregular proceeding,” he said. “If this person is a +witness, let her be sworn in the usual manner and let her take her place +in the witness-chair where she may be examined by the attorney whom the +court may see fit to appoint for the defense.” + +It was evident that Mr. Thompson, urging the prosecutor, was alarmed. +The folds of his obese neck lying above the collar of his coat took on +a deeper color, and his mouth visibly sagged as with some unexpected +emotion. He felt that he was becoming entangled in some vast, invisible +net spread about him by this girl who had appeared as if by magic before +the Hotel Markheim. + +The judge looked down at the attorney. “I will have the witness sworn,” + he said, “but I shall not at present appoint anybody to conduct an +examination. When a prisoner before me has no counsel, I sometimes look +after his case myself.” + +He spoke to the girl. “Will you hold up your hand?” he said. + +“Why, yes, monsieur,” she said, “if you will also ask Mr. Thompson to +hold up his hand.” + +“Do you wish him sworn as a witness?” said the judge. + +The girl hesitated. “Yes, monsieur,” she said, “if that is the way to +have him hold up his hand.” + +Again Thompson was disturbed. Again he spoke to the prosecutor and again +that attorney objected. + +“We have not asked to have Mr. Thompson testify in this case,” he said. +“It is true Mr. Thompson is concerned about the result of this trial. He +is the nephew of the decedent and his heir. It is only natural that he +should properly concern himself to see that the assassin is brought to +justice.” + +He spoke to the girl. “Do you wish to make Mr. Thompson your witness?” + he said. + +And again she replied with the hesitating formula: + +“Why, yes, monsieur, if that is the way to cause him to hold up his +hand.” + +The judge turned to the clerk. “Will you administer the oath to these +two persons?” he said. + +Thompson rose. His face was disconcerted and slack. He hesitated, but +the prosecutor spoke to him. Then he faced the judge and put up his +hand. Immediately the girl cried out: + +“Look, monsieur,” she said. “It is his left hand he is holding up!” + +Immediately Thompson raised the other hand. “I beg your pardon, Your +Honor,” he muttered. “I am left-handed; I sometimes make that mistake.” + +And again the girl cried out: “You see... you notice it... it is true, +then... he is left-handed.” + +“I see he is left-handed,” said the judge, “but what has that to do with +the case?” + +“Oh, monsieur,” she said, “it has everything to do with it. I will show +you.” + +She moved up on the step before the judge's bench and laid the menu +before him. The attorney for the prosecution also arose. He wished to +prevent this proceeding, to object to it, but he feared to disturb the +judge and he remained silent. + +“Monsieur,” she said, “I have made a little drawing... I know how such +things are done.... My father was juge d'instruction of the Canton +of Vaud. He always made little drawings of places where crimes were +committed.... Here you will see,” and she put her finger on the +card, “the narrow passage leading from the butler's pantry into the +dining-room used for a library. You will notice, monsieur, that the +writing-table stood with one end against the wall, the left wall of the +room, as one enters from the butler's pantry. It is a queer table. One +side of it has a row of drawers coming to the floor and the other side +is open so one may sit with one's knees under it. On the night of the +tragedy this table was sitting at right angles to the left wall, that +is to say, monsieur, with this end open for the writer's knees close up +against the left wall of the room. That meant, monsieur, that on this +night Mr. Marsh was sitting at the table with his back to the passage +from the butler's pantry, close up against the left wall of the room. + +“Therefore, monsieur,” the girl went on, “the man who assassinated Mr. +Marsh entered from the butler's pantry. He slipped into the room along +the left wall close up behind his victim.... Did it not occur so.” + +This was the evidence of the police officials and the experts. It was +clear from the position of the desk in the room and from the details of +the evidence. + +“And, monsieur,” she said, “will you tell me, is it true that the stab +wound which killed Mr. Marsh was in the shoulder on the side next to the +wall?” + +“Yes,” said the judge, “that is true.” + +The prosecutor, urged by Thompson, now made a verbal objection. The +case was practically completed. The incident going on in the court-room +followed no definite legal procedure and could not be permitted to +proceed. The judge stopped him. + +“Sit down,” he said. He did not offer any explanation or comment. He +merely silenced the man and returned to the girl standing eagerly on the +step before the bench. + +“The wound was in the base of the man's neck at the top of the left +shoulder on the side next to the wall,” he said. “But what has this fact +to do with the case?” + +“Oh, monsieur,” she cried, “it has everything to do with it. If the +assassin who slipped along the wall had carried the knife in his right +hand, the wound would have been on the right side of the dead man's +neck. But if, monsieur, the assassin carried the knife in his left hand, +then the wound would be where it is, on the left side. That made me +believe, at first, that the assassin had only one arm--had lost +his right arm--and must use the other; then, a little later, I +understood.... Oh, monsieur, don't you understand; don't you see that +the assassin who stabbed Mr. Marsh was left-handed?” + +In a moment it was all clear to everybody. Only a left-handed man could +have committed the crime, for only a left-handed man standing close +against the left side of a room above one sitting at a desk against +that wall could have struck straight down into the left shoulder of the +murdered man. A right-handed assassin would have struck straight down +into the right shoulder, he would not have risked a doubtful blow, +delivered awkwardly across his body, into the left shoulder of his +victim. + +The girl indicated Thompson with her hand. “He did it; he's left-handed. +I found out by dropping my glove.” + +Panic enveloped the cornered man. He began to shake as with an ague. +Sweat like a thin oil spread over his debauched face and the folds of +his obese neck. With his fatal left hand he began to finger the lapel +of his coat where the faded rosebud hung pinned into the buttonhole. And +the girl's voice broke the profound silence of the court-room. + +“He has the money, too,” she said. “I felt a bulky packet when I gave +him the flower out of my bouquet last night.” + +The big, thin-haired lawyer, leaving the courtroom after his withdrawal +from the case, stopped at a window arrested by the amazing scene: The +police taking the stolen money out of Thompson's pocket; the woman in +the girl's arms, and the transfigured prisoner standing up as in the +presence of a heavenly angel. This before him... and the splendid motor +below under the sweep of the window, waiting before the courthouse door, +brought back the memory of his biting, sarcastic words: + +“... or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!” + +And there occurred to him a doubt of the exclusive dominance of life by +the gods he served. + + + + +XIV. The Yellow Flower + + +The girl sat in a great chair before the fire, huddled, staring into the +glow of the smoldering logs. + +Her dark hair clouded her face. The evening gown was twisted and +crumpled about her. There was no ornament on her; her arms, her +shoulders, the exquisite column of her throat were bare. + +She sat with her eyes wide, unmoving, in a profound reflection. + +The library was softly lighted; richly furnished, a little beyond +the permission of good taste. On a table at the girl's elbow were two +objects; a ruby necklace, and a dried flower. The flower, fragile with +age, seemed a sort of scrub poppy of a delicate yellow; the flower of +some dwarfed bush, prickly like a cactus. + +The necklace made a great heap of jewels on the buhl top of the table, +above the intricate arabesque of silver and tortoise-shell. + +It was nearly midnight. Outside, the dull rumble of London seemed a +sound, continuous, unvarying, as though it were the distant roar of a +world turning in some stellar space. + +It was a great old house in Park Lane, heavy and of that gloomy +architecture with which the feeling of the English people, at an earlier +time, had been so strangely in accord. It stood before St. James's Park +oppressive and monumental, and now in the midst of yellow fog its heavy +front was like a mausoleum. + +But within, the house had been treated to a modern re-casting, not +entirely independent of the vanity of wealth. + +After the dinner at the Ritz, the girl felt that she could not go on; +and Lady Mary's party, on its way to the dancing, put her down at the +door. She gave the excuse of a crippling headache. But it was a deeper, +more profound aching that disturbed her. She was before the tragic hour, +appearing in the lives of many women, when suddenly, as by the opening +of a door, one realizes the irrevocable aspect of a marriage of which +the details are beginning to be arranged. That hour in which a woman +must consider, finally, the clipping of all threads, except the single +one that shall cord her to a mate for life. + +Until to-night, in spite of preparations on the way, the girl had not +felt this marriage as inevitable. Her aunt had pressed for it, subtly, +invisibly, as an older woman is able to do. + +Her situation was always, clearly before her. She was alone in the +world; with very little, almost nothing. The estate her father inherited +he had finally spent in making great explorations. There was no unknown +taste of the world that he had not undertaken to enter. The final +driblets of his fortune had gone into his last adventure in the Great +Gobi Desert from which he had never returned. + +The girl had been taken by this aunt in London, incredibly rich, but on +the fringes of the fashionable society of England, which she longed to +enter. Even to the young girl, her aunt's plan was visible. With a great +settlement, such as this ambitious woman could manage, the girl could be +a duchess. + +The marriage to Lord Eckhart in the diplomatic service, who would one +day be a peer of England, had been a lure dangled unavailingly before +her, until that night, when, on his return from India, he had carried +her off her feet with his amazing incredible sacrifice. It was the +immense idealism, the immense romance of it that had swept her into this +irrevocable thing. + +She got up now, swiftly, as though she would again realize how the thing +had happened and stooped over the table above the heap of jewels. They +were great pigeon-blood rubies, twenty-seven of them, fastened together +with ancient crude gold work. She lifted the long necklace until it hung +with the last jewel on the table. + +The thing was a treasure, an immense, incredible treasure. And it was +for this--for the privilege of putting this into her hands, that the +man had sold everything he had in England--and endured what the gossips +said--endured it during the five years in India--kept silent and was +now silent. She remembered every detail the rumor of a wild life, a +dissolute reckless life, the gradual, piece by piece sale of +everything that could be turned into money. London could not think of a +ne'er-do-well to equal him in the memory of its oldest gossips--and +all the time with every penny, he was putting together this immense +treasure--for her. A dreamer writing a romance might imagine a thing +like this, but had it any equal in the realities of life? + +She looked down at the chain of great jewels, and the fragment of +prickly shrub with its poppy-shaped yellow flower. They were symbols, +each, of an immense idealism, an immense conception of sacrifice that +lifted the actors in their dramas into gigantic figures illumined with +the halos of romance. + +Until to-night it had been this ideal figure of Lord Eckhart that the +girl considered in this marriage. And to-night, suddenly, the actual +physical man had replaced it. And, alarmed, she had drawn back. Perhaps +it was the Teutonic blood in him--a grandmother of a German house. And, +yet, who could say, perhaps this piece of consuming idealism was from +that ancient extinct Germany of Beethoven. + +But the man and the ideal seemed distinct things having no relation. +She drew back from the one, and she stood on tip-toe, with arms extended +longingly toward the other. + +What should she do? + +Had the example of her father thrown on Lord Eckhart a golden shadow? +She moved the bit of flower, gently as in a caress. He had given up the +income of a leading profession and gone to his death. His fortune and +his life had gone in the same high careless manner for the thing he +sought. For the treasure that he believed lay in the Gobi Desert--not +for himself, but for every man to be born into the world. He was the +great dreamer, the great idealist, a vague shining figure before the +girl like the cloud in the Hebraic Myth. + +The girl stood up and linked her fingers together behind her back. If +her father were only here--for an hour, for a moment! Or if, in the +world beyond sight and hearing, he could somehow get a message to her! + +At this moment a bell, somewhere in the deeps of the house, jangled, and +she heard the old butler moving through the hall to the door. The +other servants had been dismissed for the night, and her aunt on the +preliminaries of this marriage was in Paris. + +A moment later the butler appeared with a card on his tray. It was +a card newly engraved in some English shop and bore the name “Dr. +Tsan-Sgam.” The girl stood for a moment puzzled at the queer name, and +then the memory of the strange outlandish human creatures, from the ends +of the world, who used sometimes to visit her father, in the old time, +returned, and with it there came a sudden upward sweep of the heart--was +there an answer to her longing, somehow, incredibly on the way! + +She gave a direction for the visitor to be brought in. He was a big +old man. His body looked long and muscular like that of some type +of Englishmen, but his head and his features were Mongolian. He was +entirely bald, as bald as the palm of a hand, as though bald from +his mother he had so remained to this incredible age. And age was the +impression that he profoundly presented. But it was age that a tough +vitality in the man resisted; as though the assault of time wore it down +slowly and with almost an imperceptible detritus. The great naked head +and the wide Mongolian face were unshrunken; they presented, rather, the +aspect of some old child. He was dressed with extreme care, in the very +best evening clothes that one could buy in a London shop. + +He bowed, oddly, with a slow doubling of the body, and when he spoke +the girl felt that he was translating his words through more than one +language; as though one were to put one's sentences into French or +Italian and from that, as a sort of intermediary, into English--as +though the way were long, and unfamiliar from the medium in which the +man thought to the one in which he was undertaking to express it. But at +the end of this involved mental process his English sentences appeared +correctly, and with an accurate selection in the words. + +“You must pardon the hour, Miss Carstair,” he said, in his slow, precise +articulation, “but I am required to see you and it is the only time I +have.” + +Then his eyes caught the necklace on the table, and advancing with two +steps he stooped over it. + +For a moment everything else seemed removed, from about the man. His +angular body, in its unfamiliar dress, was doubled like a finger; his +great head with its wide Mongolian face was close down over the buhl top +of the table and his finger moved the heap of rubies. + +The girl had a sudden inspiration. + +“Lord Eckhart got these jewels from you?” + +The man paused, he seemed to be moving the girl's words backward through +the intervening languages. + +Then he replied. + +“Yes,” he said, “from us.” + +The girl's inspiration was now illumined by a further light. + +“And you have not been paid for them?” + +The man stood up now. And again this involved process of moving the +words back through various translations was visible--and the answer up. + +“Yes--” he said, “we have been paid.” + +Then he added, in explanation of his act. + +“These rubies have no equal in the world--and the gold-work attaching +them together is extremely old. I am always curious to admire it.” + +He looked down at the girl, at the necklace, at the space about them, as +though he were deeply, profoundly puzzled. + +“We had a fear,” he said, “--it was wrong!” + +Then he put his hand swiftly into the bosom pocket of his evening coat, +took out a thin packet wrapped in a piece of vellum and handed it to the +girl. + +“It became necessary to treat with the English Government about the +removal of records from Lhassa and I was sent--I was directed to get +this packet to you from London. To-night, at dinner with Sir Henry +Marquis in St. James's Square, I learned that you were here. I had then +only this hour to come, as my boat leaves in the morning.” He spoke with +the extreme care of one putting together a delicate mosaic. + +The girl stood staring at the thin packet. A single thought alone +consumed her. + +“It is a message from--my--father.” + +She spoke almost in a whisper. + +The big Oriental replied immediately. + +“No,” he said, “your father is beyond sight and hearing.” + +The girl had no hope; only the will to hope. The reply was confirmation +of what she already knew. She removed the thin vellum wrapper from the +packet. Within she found a drawing on a plate of ivory. It represented +a shaft of some white stone standing on the slight elevation of what +seemed to be a barren plateau. And below on the plate, in fine English +characters like an engraving, was the legend, “Erected to the memory of +Major Judson Carstair by the monastery at the Head.” + +The man added a word of explanation. + +“The Brotherhood thought that you would wish to know that your father's +body had been recovered, and that it had received Christian burial, as +nearly as we were able to interpret the forms. The stone is a sort of +granite.” + +The girl wished to ask a thousand questions: How did her father meet his +death, and where? What did they know? What had they recovered with his +body? + +The girl spoke impulsively, her words crowding one another. And the +Oriental seemed able only to disengage the last query from the others. + +“Unfortunately,” he said, “some band of the desert people had passed +before our expedition arrived, nothing was recovered but the body. It +was not mutilated.” + +They had been standing. The girl now indicated the big library chair in +which she had been huddled and got another for herself. Then she wished +to know what they had learned about her father's death. + +The Oriental sat down. He sat awkwardly, his big body, in a kind of +squat posture, the broad Mongolian face emerging, as in a sort of +deformity, from the collar of his evening coat. Then he began to speak, +with that conscious effect of bringing his words through various mediums +from a distance. + +“We endeavored to discourage Major Carstair from undertaking this +adventure. We were greatly concerned about his safety. The sunken +plateau of the Gobi Desert, north of the Shan States, is exceedingly +dangerous for an European, not so much on account of murderous attacks +from the desert people, for this peril we could prevent; but there is a +chill in this sunken plain after sunset that the native people only can +resist. No white man has ever crossed the low land of the Gobi.” + +He paused. + +“And there is in fact no reason why any one should wish to cross it. It +is absolutely barren. We pointed out all this very carefully to Major +Carstair when we learned what he had in plan, for as I have said his +welfare was very pressingly on our conscience. We were profoundly +puzzled about what he was seeking in the Gobi. He was not, evidently, +intending to plot the region or to survey any route, or to acquire any +scientific data. His equipment lacked all the implements for such work. +It was a long time before we understood the impulse that was moving +Major Carstair to enter this waste region of the Gobi to the north.” + +The man stopped, and sat for some moments quite motionless. + +“Your father,” he went on, “was a distinguished man in one of the +departments of human endeavor which the East has always neglected; and +in it he had what seemed to us incredible skill--with ease he was able +to do things which we considered impossible. And for this reason the +impulse taking him into the Gobi seemed entirely incredible to us; it +seemed entirely inconsistent with this special ability which we knew the +man to possess; and for a long time we rejected it, believing ourselves +to be somehow misled.” + +The girl sat straight and silent, in her chair near the brass fender +to the right of the buhl table; the drawing, showing the white granite +shaft, held idly in her fingers; the illuminated vellum wrapper fallen +to the floor. + +The man continued speaking slowly. + +“When, finally, it was borne in upon us that Major Carstair was seeking +a treasure somewhere on the barren plateau of the Gobi, we took every +measure, consistent with a proper courtesy, to show him how fantastic +this notion was. We had, in fact, to exercise a certain care lest +the very absurdity of the conception appear too conspicuously in our +discourse.” + +He looked across the table at the girl. + +The man's great bald head seemed to sink a little into his shoulders, as +in some relaxation. + +“We brought out our maps of the region and showed him the old routes +and trails veining the whole of it. We explained the topography of this +desert plateau; the exact physical character of its relief. There was +hardly a square mile of it that we did not know in some degree, and +of which we did not possess some fairly accurate data. It was entirely +inconceivable that any object of value could exist in this region +without our knowledge of it.” + +The man was speaking like one engaged in some extremely delicate +mechanical affair, requiring an accuracy almost painful in its +exactness. + +“Then, profoundly puzzled, we endeavored to discover what data Major +Carstair possessed that could in any way encourage him in this fantastic +idea. It was a difficult thing to do, for we held him in the highest +esteem and, outside of this bizarre notion, we had before us, beyond any +question, the evidence of his especial knowledge; and, as I have said, +his, to us, incredible skill.” + +He paused, as though the careful structure of the long sentence had +fatigued him. + +“Major Carstair's explanations were always in the imagery of romance. +He sought 'a treasure--a treasure that would destroy a Kingdom.' And his +indicatory data seemed to be the dried blossom of our desert poppy.” + +Again the Oriental paused. He put up his hand and passed his fingers +over his face. The gaunt hand contrasted with the full contour. + +“I confess that we did not know what to do. We realized that we had +to deal with a nature possessing in one direction the exact accurate +knowledge of a man of science, and in another the wonder extravagances +of a child. The Dalai Lama was not yet able to be consulted, and it +seemed to us a better plan to say no more about the impossible treasure, +and address our endeavors to the practical side of Major Carstair's +intelligence instead. We now pointed out the physical dangers of the +region. The deadly chill in it coming on at sunset could not fail to +inflame the lungs of a European, accustomed to an equable temperature, +fever would follow; and within a few days the unfortunate victim would +find his whole breathing space fatally congested.” + +The man removed his hand. The care in his articulation was marked. + +“Major Carstair was not turned aside by these facts, and we permitted +him to go on.” + +Again he paused as though troubled by a memory. + +“In this course,” he continued, “the Dalai Lama considered us to have +acted at the extreme of folly. But it is to be remembered, in our +behalf, that somewhat of the wonder at Major Carstair's knowledge of +Western science dealing with the human body was on us, and we felt +that perhaps the climatic peril of the Gobi might present no difficult +problem to him. + +“We were fatally misled.” + +Then he added. + +“We were careful to direct him along the highest route of the plateau, +and to have his expedition followed. But chance intervened. Major +Carstair turned out of the route and our patrol went on, supposing him +to be ahead on the course which we had indicated to him. When the error +was at last discovered, our patrol was entering the Sirke range. No one +could say at what point on the route Major Carstair had turned out, and +our search of the vast waste of the Gobi desert began. The high wind on +the plateau removes every trace of human travel. The whole of the region +from the Sirke, south, had to be gone over. It took a long time.” + +The man stopped like one who has finished a story. The girl had not +moved; her face was strained and white. The fog outside had thickened; +the sounds of the city seemed distant. The girl had listened without a +word, without a gesture. Now she spoke. + +“But why were you so concerned about my father?” + +The big Oriental turned about in the chair. He looked steadily at the +girl, he seemed to be treating the query to his involved method of +translation; and Miss Carstair felt that the man, because of this +tedious mental process, might have difficulty to understand precisely +what she meant. + +What he wished to say, he could control and, therefore, could accurately +present--but what was said to him began in the distant language. + +“What Major Carstair did,” he said, “it has not been made clear to you?” + +“No,” she replied, “I do not understand.” + +The man seemed puzzled. + +“You have not understood!” + +He repeated the sentence; his face reflective, his great bare head +settling into the collar of his evening coat as though the man's neck +were removed. + +He remained for a moment thus puzzled and reflective. Then he began +to speak as one would set in motion some delicate involved machinery +running away into the hidden spaces of a workshop. + +“The Dalai Lama had fallen--he was alone in the Image Room. His head +striking the sharp edge of a table was cut. He had lost a great deal of +blood when we found him and was close to death. Major Carstair was at +this time approaching the monastery from the south; his description +sent to us from Lhassa contained the statement that he was an American +surgeon. We sent at once asking him to visit the Dalai Lama, for the +skill of Western people in this department of human knowledge is known +to us.” + +The Oriental went on, slowly, with extreme care. + +“Major Carstair did not at once impress us. 'What this man needs,' he +said, 'is blood.' That was clear to everybody. One of our, how shall I +say it in your language, Cardinals, replied with some bitterness, that +the Dalai Lama could hardly be imagined to lack anything else. Major +Carstair paid no attention to the irony. 'This man must have a supply +of blood,' he added. The Cardinal, very old, and given to imagery in his +discourse answered, that blood could be poured out but it could not be +gathered up... and that man could spill it but only God could make. + +“We interrupted then, for Major Carstair was our guest and entitled to +every courtesy, and inquired how it would be possible to restore blood +to the Dalai Lama; it was not conceivable that the lost blood could be +gathered up. + +“He explained then that he would transfer it from the veins of a healthy +man into the unconscious body.” + +The Oriental hesitated; then he went on. + +“The thing seemed to us fantastic. But our text treating the life of +the Dalai Lama admits of no doubt upon one point--'no measure presenting +itself in extremity can be withheld.' He was in clear extremity and this +measure, even though of foreign origin, had presented itself, and we +felt after a brief reflection that we were bound to permit it.” + +He added. + +“The result was a miracle to us. In a short time the Dalai Lama had +recovered. But in the meantime Major Carstair had gone on into the Gobi +seeking the fantastic treasure.” + +The girl turned toward the man, a wide-eyed, eager, lighted face. + +“Do you realize,” she said, “the sort of treasure that my father +sacrificed his life to search for?” + +The Oriental spoke slowly. + +“It was to destroy a Kingdom,” he said. + +“To destroy the Kingdom of Pain!” She replied, “My father was seeking +an anesthetic more powerful than the derivatives of domestic opium. He +searched the world for it. In the little, wild desert flower lay, he +thought, the essence of this treasure. And he would seek it at any cost. +Fortune was nothing; life was nothing. Is it any wonder that you could +not stop him? A flaming sword moving at the entrance to the Gobi could +not have barred him out!” + +The big Oriental made a vague gesture as of one removing something +clinging to his face. + +“Wherefore this blindness?” he said. + +The girl had turned away in an effort to control the emotion that +possessed her. But the task was greater than her strength; when she +came back to the table tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her +face. Emotion seemed now to overcome her. + +“If my father were only here,” her voice was broken, “if he were only +here!” + +The big Oriental moved his whole body, as by one motion, toward her. The +house was very still; there was only the faint crackling of the logs on +the fire. + +“We had a fear,” he said. “It remains!” + +The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the brass +fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime she was silent. +Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in a low voice. + +“You know Lord Eckhart?” + +A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face. + +“Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our monastery on +the edge of the Gobi--the English sovereignty extends to the Kahn line. +Lord Eckhart was the political agent of the English government in the +province nearest to us.” + +When the girl got up, the Oriental also rose. He stood awkwardly, his +body stooped; his hand as for support resting on the corner of the +table. The girl spoke again, in the same posture. Her face toward the +fire. + +“How do you feel about Lord Eckhart?” + +“Feel!” The man repeated the word. + +He hesitated a little. + +“We trusted Lord Eckhart. We have found all English honorable.” + +“Lord Eckhart is partly German,” the girl went on. + +The man's voice in reply was like a foot-note to a discourse. + +“Ah!” He drawled the expletive as though it were some Oriental word. + +The girl continued. “You have perhaps heard that a marriage is arranged +between us.” + +Her voice was steady, low, without emotion. + +For a long time there was utter silence in the room. + +Then, finally, when the Oriental spoke his voice had changed. It was +gentle, and packed with sympathy. It was like a voice within the gate of +a confessional. + +“Do you love him?” it said. + +“I do not know.” + +The vast sympathy in the voice continued. “You do not know?--it is +impossible! Love is or it is not. It is the longing of elements torn +asunder, at the beginning of things, to be rejoined.” + +The girl turned swiftly, her body erect, her face lifted. + +“But this great act,” she cried. “My father, I, all of our blood, are +moved by romance--by the romance of sacrifice. Look how my father died +seeking an antidote for the pain of the world. How shall I meet this +sacrifice of Lord Eckhart?” + +Something strange began to dawn in the wide Mongolian face. + +“What sacrifice?” + +The girl came over swiftly to the table. She scattered the mass of +jewels with a swift gesture. + +“Did he not give everything he possessed, everything piece by piece, for +this?” + +She took the necklace up and twisted it around her fingers. Her hands +appeared to be a mass of rubies. + +A great light came into the Oriental's face. + +“The necklace,” he said, “is a present to you from the Dalai Lama. It +was entrusted to Lord Eckhart to deliver.” + + + + +XV. Satire of the Sea + +“What was the mystery about St. Alban?” I asked. + +The Baronet did not at once reply. He looked out over the English +country through the ancient oak-trees, above the sweep of meadow across +the dark, creeping river, to the white shaft rising beyond the wooded +hills into the sky. + +The war was over. I was a guest of Sir Henry Marquis for a week-end at +his country-house. The man fascinated me. He seemed a sort of bottomless +Stygian vat of mysteries. He had been the secret hand of England for +many years in India. Then he was made a Baronet and put at the head of +England's Secret Service at Scotland Yard. + +A servant brought out the tea and we were alone on the grass terrace +before the great oak-trees. He remained for some moments in reflection, +then he replied: + +“Do you mean the mystery of his death?” + +“Was there any other mystery?” I said. + +He looked at me narrowly across the table. + +“There was hardly any mystery about his death,” he said. “The man shot +himself with an old dueling pistol that hung above the mantel in his +library. The family, when they found him, put the pistol back on the +nail and fitted the affair with the stock properties of a mysterious +assassin. + +“The explanation was at once accepted. The man's life, in the public +mind, called for an end like that. St. Alban after his career, should by +every canon of the tragic muse, go that way.” + +He made a careless gesture with his fingers. + +“I saw the disturbed dust on the wall where the pistol had been moved, +the bits of split cap under the hammer, and the powder marks on the +muzzle. + +“But I let the thing go. It seemed in keeping with the destiny of the +man. And it completed the sardonic picture. It was all fated, as the +Gaelic people say.... I saw no reason to disturb it.” + +“Then there was some other mystery?” I ventured. + +He nodded his big head slowly. + +“There is an ancient belief,” he said, “that the hunted thing always +turns on us. Well, if there was ever a man in this world on whom the +hunted thing awfully turned, it was St. Alban.” + +He put out his hand. + +“Look at the shaft yonder,” he said, “lifted to his memory, towering +over the whole of this English country, and cut on its base with his +services to England and the brave words he said on that fatal morning on +the Channel boat. Every schoolboy knows the words: + +“'Don't threaten, fire if you like!' + +“First-class words for the English people to remember. No bravado, just +the thing any decent chap would say. But the words are persistent. They +remain in the memory. And it was a thrilling scene they fitted into. +One must never forge that: The little hospital transport lying in the +Channel in a choppy sea that ran streaks of foam; the grim turret and +the long whaleback of a U-boat in the foam scruff; and the sun lying on +the scrubbed deck of the jumping transport. + +“Everybody was crowded about. St. Alban was in the center of the human +pack, in a pace or two of clear deck, his injured arm in a sling; his +split sleeve open around it; his shoulders thrown back; his head lifted; +and before him, the Hun commander with his big automatic pistol. + +“It's a wonderful, spirited picture, and it thrilled England. It was in +accord with her legends. England has little favor of either the gods of +the hills or the gods of the valleys. But always, in all her wars, the +gods of the seas back her.” + +The big Baronet paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it and set +it down on the table. + +“That's a fine monument,” he said, indicating the white shaft that shot +up into the cloudless evening sky. “The road makes a sharp turn by it. +You have got to slow up, no matter how you travel. The road rises there. +It's built that way; to make the passer go slow enough to read the +legends on the base of the monument. It's a clever piece of business. +Everybody is bound to give his tribute of attention to the conspicuous +memorial. + +“There are two faces to the monument that you must look at if you go +that road. One recounts the man's services to England, and the other +face bears his memorable words: + +“'Don't threaten, fire if you like!'” + +The Baronet fingered the handle of his teacup. + +“The words are precisely suited to the English people,” he said. “No +heroics, no pretension, that's the whole spirit of England. It's the +English policy in a line: We don't threaten, and we don't wish to be +threatened by another. Let them fire if they like,--that's all in the +game. But don't swing a gun on us with a threat. St. Alban was lucky +to say it. He got the reserve, the restraint, the commonplace +understatement that England affects, into the sentence. It was a piece +of good fortune to catch the thing like that. + +“The monument is tremendous. One can't avoid it. It's always before the +eye here, like the White Horse of Alfred on the chalk hill in Berkshire. +All the roads pass it through this countryside. But every mortal thing +that travels, motor and cart, must slow up around the monument.” + +He stopped for a moment and looked at the white needle shimmering in the +evening sun. + +“But St. Alban's greatest monument,” he said, “was the lucky sentence. +It stuck in the English memory and it will never go out of it. One +wouldn't give a half-penny for a monument if one could get a phrase +fastened in a people's memory like that.” + +Sir Henry moved in his chair. + +“I often wonder,” he said, “whether the thing was an inspiration of St. +Alban's that morning on the deck of the hospital transport, or had he +thought about it at some other time? Was the sentence stored in +the man's memory, or did it come with the first gleam of returning +consciousness from a soul laid open by disaster? I think racial words, +simple and unpretentious, may lies in any man close to the bone like +that to be rived out with a mortal hurt. That's what keeps me wondering +about the words he used. And he did use them. + +“I don't doubt that a lot of our hero stuff has been edited after the +fact. But this sentence wasn't edited. That's what he said, precisely. +A hundred wounded soldiers on the hospital transport heard it. They were +crowding round him. And they told the story when they got ashore. The +story varied in trifling details as one would expect among so many +witnesses to a tragic event like that. But it didn't vary about what +the man said when the Hun commander was swinging his automatic pistol on +him. + +“There was no opportunity to edit a brave sentence to fit the affair. +St. Alban said it. And he didn't think it up as he climbed out of the +cabin of the transport. If he had been in a condition to think, he +had enough of the devil's business to think about just then; a brave +sentence would hardly have concerned him, as I said awhile ago. + +“Besides, we have his word that, after what happened in the cabin, +everything else that occurred that morning on the transport was a blank +to the man; was walled off from his consciousness, and these words were +the first impulse of one returning to a realization of events.” + +Sir Henry Marquis reflected. + +“I think they were,” he continued. “They have the mark of spontaneity; +of the first disgust of one grasping the fact that he was being +threatened.” + +The Baronet paused. + +“The event had a great effect on England,” he said. “And it helped to +restore our shattered respect for a desperate enemy. The Hun commander +didn't sink the transport, and he didn't shoot St. Alban. It's true +there was a sort of gentleman's agreement among the enemies that +hospital transports should not be sunk. + +“But anything was likely to happen just then. The Hun had failed to +subjugate the world, and he was a barbarous, mad creature. England +believed that something noble in St. Alban worked the miracle. + +“'You're a brave man!' + +“Some persons on the transport testified to such a comment from the +submarine commander. At any rate, he went back to his U-boat and the +undersea. + +“That's the last they saw of him. The transport came on into Dover. + +“England thought the affair was one of the adventures of the sea. +A chance thing, that happened by accident. But there was one man in +England who knew better.” + +“You?” I said. + +The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + +“St. Alban,” he answered. + +He got up and began to walk about the terrace. I sat with the cup of +tea cooling before me. The big man walked slowly with his fingers linked +behind him. Finally he stopped. His voice was deep and reflective. + +“'Man is altogether the sport of fortune!'... I read that in Herodotus, +in a form at Rugby. I never thought about it again. But it's God's +truth. St. Alban was at Rugby. I often wonder if he remembered it. My +word, he lived to verify it! Herodotus couldn't cite a case to equal +him. And the old Greek wasn't hemmed in by the truth. I maintain that +the man's case has no parallel. + +“To have all the painstaking labor of years negatived by one enveloping, +vicious misfortune; to be beaten out of life by it, and at the same time +to gain that monument out yonder and one's niche as hero by the grim +device of an enemy's satire; by the acting of a scene that one +would never have taken part in if one had realized it, is beyond any +complication of tragedy known to the Greek. + +“Look at the three strange phases of it: To be a mediocre Englishman +with no special talent; to die in horrible despair; and to leave behind +a glorious legend. And for all these three things to contradict one +another in the same life is unequaled in the legends of any people.” + +The Baronet went on in a deep level voice. + +“There was a vicious vitality behind the whole desperate business. Every +visible impression of the thing was wrong. Every conception of it held +today by the English people is wrong! + +“The German submarine didn't overhaul the hospital transport in the +Channel by accident. The Hun commander didn't fail to sink the transport +out of any humane motives. He didn't fail to shoot St. Alban because he +was moved by the heroism of the man. It was all grim calculation! + +“He thought it was safe to let St. Alban go ahead. And he would have +been right if St. Alban had been the great egotist that he was. + +“The commander of that submarine was Plutonburg of Prussia. He was the +right-hand man of old Von Tirpitz. He was the one man in the German navy +who never ceased to urge its Admiralty to sink everything. He loathed +every fiber of the English people. We had all sorts of testimony to +that. The trawlers and freightboat captains brought it in. He staged +his piracies to a theatrical frightfulness. 'Old England!' he would say, +when he climbed up out of the sea onto the deck of a British ship and +looked about him at the sailors, 'Old, is right, old and rotten!' Then +he would smite his big chest and quote the diatribes of Treitschke. +'But in a world that the Prussian inhabits a nation, old and rotten, may +endure for a time, but it shall not endure forever!' + +“Plutonburg didn't let St. Alban and the transport go ahead out of the +promptings of a noble nature. He did it because he hated England, and +he wanted St. Alban to live on in the hell he had trapped him into. He +counted on his keeping silent. But the Hun made a mistake. + +“St. Alban didn't measure up to the standard of Prussian egoism by which +Plutonburg estimated him.” + +Sir Henry continued in the same even voice. The levels of emotion in his +narrative did not move him. + +“Did you ever see the picture of Plutonburg, in Munich? He had a face +like Chemosh. And he dressed the part. Other under-boat commanders wore +the conventional naval cap, but Plutonburg always wore a steel helmet +with a corrugated earpiece. Some artist under the frightfulness dogma +must have designed it for him. It framed his face down to the jaw. The +face looked like it was set in iron, and it was a thick-lidded, heavy, +menacing face; the sort of face that a broad-line cartoonist gives to a +threatening war-joss. At any rate, that's how the picture presents him. +One thinks of Attila under his ox head. You can hardly imagine anything +human in it, except a cruel satanic humor. + +“He must have looked like Beelzebub that morning, on the transport, when +he let St. Alban go on.” + +The Baronet looked down at me. + +“Now, that's the truth about the fine conduct of Plutonburg that England +applauded as an act of chivalry. It was a piece of sheer, hellish +malignity, if there ever was an instance.” + +Sir Henry took a turn across the terrace, for a moment silent. Then he +went on: + +“And in fact, everything in the heroic event on the deck of the +transport was a pretense. The Hun didn't intend to shoot St. Alban. As I +have said, Plutonburg had him in just the sort of hell he wanted him in, +and he didn't propose to let him out with a bullet. And St. Alban ought +to have known it, unless, as he afterwards said, the whole thing +from the first awful moment in the cabin was simply walled out of his +consciousness, until he began dimly to realize up there in the sun, in +the crowd, that he was being threatened and blurted out his words from a +sort of awful disgust.” + +Again he paused. + +“Plutonburg was right about having St. Alban in the crater of the pit. +But he was wrong to measure him by his Prussian standard. St. Alban came +on to London. He got the heads of the War Office together and told +them. I was there. It was the devil's own muddle of a contrast. Outside, +London was ringing with the man's striking act of personal heroism. +And inside of the Foreign Office three or, four amazed persons were +listening to the bitter truth.” + +The Baronet spread out his hands with a sudden gesture. + +“I shall always remember the man's strange, livid face; his fingers that +jumped about the cuff of his coat sleeve; and his shaking jaw.” + +Sir Henry went over and sat down at the table. For a good while he was +silent. The sun filtering through the limbs of the great oak-trees made +mottled spots on his face. He seemed to turn away from the thing he had +been concerned with, and to see something else, something wholly apart +and at a distance from St. Alban's affairs. + +“You must have wondered like everybody else,” he said, “why the Allied +drive on the Somme accomplished so little at first. Both England and +France had made elaborate preparations for it over a long period of +time. Every detail had been carefully, worked out. Every move had been +estimated with mathematical exactness. + +“The French divisions had been equipped and strategically grouped. +England had put a million of fresh troops into France. And the line of +the drive had been mapped. The advance, when it was opened on the first +day of July, ought to have gone forward irresistibly from cog to cog +like a wheel of a machine on the indentations of a track. But the thing +didn't happen that way. The drive sagged and stuck.” + +The big Englishman pressed the table with his clinched hand. + +“My word!” he said, “is it any wonder that the devil, Plutonburg, +grinned when he put up his automatic pistol? Why shoot the Englishman? +He would do it himself soon enough. He was right about that. If he had +only been right about his measure of St. Alban, the drive on the Somme +would have been a ghastly catastrophe for the Allied armies.” + +I hesitated to interrupt Sir Henry. But he had got my interest +desperately worked up about what seemed to me great unjointed segments +of this affair, that one couldn't understand till they were put +together. I ventured a query. + +“How did St. Alban come to be on the hospital transport?” I said. “Was +he in the English army in France?” + +“Oh, no,” he said. “When the war opened St. Alban was in the Home +Office, and, he set out to make England spy-proof. He organized the +Confidential Department, and he went to work to take every precaution. +He wasn't a great man in any direction, but he was a careful, thorough +man. And with tireless, never-ceasing, persistent effort, he very nearly +swept England clean of German espionage.” + +Sir Henry spoke with vigor and decision. + +“Now, that's what St. Alban did in England--not because he was a man of +any marked ability, but because he was a persistent person dominated by +a single consuming idea. He started out to rid England of every form of +espionage. And when he had accomplished that, as the cases of Ernest, +Lody, and Schultz eloquently attest, he determined to see that every +move of the English expeditionary force on the Continent should be +guarded from German espionage.” + +Sir Henry paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it. It was cold, +and he put the cup down on the table. + +“That's how St. Alban came to be in France,” he said. “The great drive +on the Somme had been planned at a meeting of military leaders in Paris. +The French were confident that they could keep their plans secret from +German espionage. They admitted frankly that signals were wirelessed out +of France. But they had taken such precautions that only the briefest +signals could go out. + +“The Government radio stations were always alert. And they at once +negatived any unauthorized wireless so that German spies could only snap +out a signal or two at any time. They could do this, however. + +“They had a wireless apparatus inside a factory chimney at Auteuil. It +wasn't located until the war was nearly over. + +“The French didn't undertake to say that they could make their country +spy-proof. They knew that there were German agents in France that nobody +could tell from innocent French people. But they did undertake to say +that nothing could be carried over into the German lines. And they +justified that promise. They did see that nothing was carried out of +France.” The Baronet looked at me across the table. + +“Now, that's what took St. Alban across the Channel,” he said. “The +English authorities wanted to be certain that there was no German +espionage. And there was no man in England able to be certain of that +except St. Alban. He went over to make sure. If the plans for the Somme +drive should get out of France, they should not get out through any +English avenue.” + +The Baronet paused. + +“St. Alban went about the thing in his thorough, persistent manner. He +didn't trust to subordinates. He went himself. That's what took him out +on the English line. And that's how he came to be wounded in the elbow. + +“It wasn't very much of a wound--a piece of shrapnel nearly spent when +it hit him. But the French hospital service was very much concerned. It +gave him every attention. + +“The man came into Paris when he had finished. The French authorities +put him up at the Hotel Meurice. You know the Hotel Meurice. It's on +the Rue de la Rivoli. It looks out over the garden of the Tuileries. St. +Alban was satisfied with the condition of affairs in France, and he was +anxious to go back to London. Arrangements had been made for him to go +on the hospital transport. + +“He was in his room at the Meurice waiting for the train to Calais. He +was, in fact, fatigued with the attention the French authorities had +given him. Everything that one could think of had been anticipated, he +said. He thought there could be nothing more. Then there was a timid +knock, and a nurse came in to say that she had been sent to see that the +dressing on his arm was all right. He said that he had found it easier +to submit to the French attentions than to undertake to explain that he +didn't need them. + +“He was busy with some final orders, so he put out his arm and allowed +the nurse to take the pins out of the split sleeve and adjust the +dressing. She put on some bandages, made a little timid curtsey and went +out. + +“St. Alban didn't think of it again until the German U-boat stopped the +transport the next morning in the Channel. He wasn't disturbed when the +submarine commander came into his cabin. He knew enough not to carry +any papers about with him. But Plutonburg didn't bother himself about +luggage. He'd had his signal from the factory chimney at Auteuil. +He stood there grinning in the cabin before St. Alban; that Satanic, +Chemosh grin that the artist got in the Munich picture. + +“'I used to be something of a surgeon,' he said, 'Doctor Ulrich von +Plutonburg, if you will remember. I'll take a look at your arm.' + +But, Alban said he thought the man might be moved by some humane +consideration, so he put out his arm. + +“Plutonburg took the pins out of the sleeve and removed the bandage that +the nurse had put on in the Hotel Meurice. Then he held it up. The +long, cotton bandage was lined with glazed cambric, and on it, in minute +detail, was the exact position of all the Allied forces along the whole +front in the region of the Somme, precisely as they had been massed for +the drive on July first!” + +I cried out in astonishment. “So that's what you meant,” I said, “by the +trailed thing turning on him!” + +“Precisely,” replied the Baronet. “The very thing that St. Alban labored +to prevent another from doing, he did awfully himself!” + +The big Englishman's fingers drummed on the table. + +“It was a great moment for Plutonburg,” he said. “No living man but that +Prussian could have put the Satanic humor into the rest of the affair.” + +He paused as under the pressure of the memory. + +“St. Alban always maintained that from the moment he saw the long map on +the bandage everything blurred around him, and began to clear only when +he spoke on the deck. He used to curse this blur. It made him a national +figure and immortal, but it prevented him, he said, from striking the +Prussian in the face.” + + + + +XVI. The House by the Loch + + +There was a snapping fire in the chimney. I was cold through and I was +glad to stand close beside it on the stone hearth. My greatcoat had kept +out the rain, but it had not kept out the chill of the West Highland +night. I shivered before the fire, my hands held out to the flame. + +It was a long, low room. There was an ancient guncase on one side, +but the racks were empty except for a service pistol hanging by its +trigger-guard from the hook. There were some shelves of books on the +other side. But the conspicuous thing in the room was an image of Buddha +in a glass box on the mantelpiece. + +It was about four inches high, cast in silver and, I thought, of immense +age. + +I had to wait for my uncle to come in. But I had enough to think about. +Every event connected with this visit seemed to touch on some mystery. +There was his strange letter to me in reply to my note that I was in +England and coming up to Scotland. Surely no man ever wrote a queerer +letter to a nephew coming on a visit to him. + +It dwelt on the length of the journey and the remoteness of the place. I +was to be discouraged in every sentence. I was to carry his affectionate +regards to the family in America and say that he was in health. + +It stood out plainly that I was not wanted. + +This was strange in itself, but it was not the strangest thing about +this letter. The strangest thing was a word written in a shaky cramped +hand on the back of the sheet: the letters huddled together: “Come!” + +I would have believed my uncle justified in his note. It was a long +journey. I had great difficulty to find anyone to take me out from the +railway station. There were idle men enough, but they shook their heads +when I named the house. Finally, for a double wage, I got an old gillie +with a cart to bring me as far on the way as the highroad ran. But he +would not turn into the unkept road that led over the moor to the house. +I could neither bribe nor persuade him. There was no alternative but to +set out through the mist with my bag on my shoulder. + +Night was coming on. The moor was a vast wilderness of gorse. The house +loomed at the foot of it and beyond the loch that made a sort of estuary +for the open sea. Nor was this the only thing. I got the impression as I +tramped along that I was not alone on the moor. I don't know out of what +evidences the impression was built up. I felt that someone was in the +gorse beyond the road. + +The house was closed up like a sleeping eye when I got before it. It was +a big, old, rambling stone house with a tangle of vines half torn away +by the winds: I hammered on the door and finally an aged man-servant +holding a candle high above his head let me in. + +This was the manner of my coming to Saint Conan's Landing. + +I had some supper of cold meat brought in by this aged servant. He was a +shrunken derelict of a human figure. He was disturbed at my arrival +and ill at ease. But I thought there was relief and welcome in his +expression. The master would be in directly; he would light a fire in +the drawing-room and prepare a bedchamber for me. + +One would hardly find outside of England such faithful creatures +clinging to the fortunes of descending men. He was at the end of life +and in some fearful perplexity, but one felt there was something stanch +and sound in him. + +I had no doubt that there, under my eye, was the hand that had added the +cramped word to my uncle's letter. + +I stood now before the fire in the long, low room. The flames and a tall +candle at either end of the mantelpiece lit it up. I was looking at the +Buddha in the glass box. I could not imagine a thing more out of note. +Surely of all corners of the world this wild moor of the West Highlands +was the least suited to an Oriental cult. The elements seemed under no +control of Nature. The land was windswept, and the sea came crying into +the loch. + +I suppose it was the mood of my queer experiences that set me at this +speculation. + +One would expect to find some evidences of India in my uncle's house. +He had been a long time in Asia, on the fringes of the English service. +Toward the end he had been the Resident at the court of an obscure Rajah +in one of the Northwest Provinces. It was on the edge of the Empire +where it touches the little-known Mongolian states south of the Gobi. + +The Home Office was only intermittently in touch with him. But +something, never explained, finally drew its attention and he was put +out of India. No one knew anything about it; “permitted to retire,” was +the text of the brief official notice. + +And he had retired to the most remote place he could find in the British +islands. There was no other house on that corner of the coast. The man +was as alone as he would have been in the Gobi. + +If he had planned to be alone one would have believed he had succeeded +in that intention. And yet from the moment I got down from the gillie's +cart I seemed drawn under a persisting surveillance. I felt now that +some one was looking at me. I turned quickly. There was a door at the +end of the room opening onto a bit of garden facing the sea. A man +stood, now, just inside this door, his hand on the latch. His head and +shoulders were stooped as though he had been there some moments, as +though he had let himself noiselessly in, and remained there watching me +before the fire. + +But if so, he was prepared against my turning. He snapped the latch and +came down the room to where I stood. + +He was a big stoop-shouldered Englishman with a pale, pasty face +beginning to sag at the jowls. There was a queer immobility about the +features as though the man were always in some fear. His eyes were a +pale tallow color and seemed too small for their immense sockets. One +could see that the man had been a gentleman. I write it in the past, +because at the moment I felt it as in the past. I felt that something +had dispossessed him. + +“This will be Robin,” he said. “My dear fellow, it was fine of you to +travel all this way to see me.” + +He had a nervous cold hand with hardly any pressure in the grasp of it. +His thin black hair was brushed across the top of his bald head, and the +distended, apprehensive expression on his face did not change. + +He made me sit down by the fire and asked me about the family +in America. But there was, I thought, no real interest in this +interrogation until he came to a reflective comment. + +“I should like to go to America,” he said; “there must be great wastes +of country where one would be out of the world.” + +The sincerity of this expression stood out in the trivial talk. It +indicated something that disturbed the man. He was as isolated as he +could get in England, but that was not enough. + +He sat for a moment silent, the fingers of his nervous hand moving on +his knee. When he glanced up, with a sudden jerk of his head, he +caught me looking at the little image of Buddha in its glass box on the +mantelpiece. + +Was this longing for solitude the influence of this mysterious religion? + +Remote, lonely isolation was a cult of Buddha. The devotees of that cult +sought the waste places of the earth for their meditations. To be out +of the world, in its physical contact, was a prime postulate in the +practice of this creed. + +“Ah, Robin,” he cried, as though he were in a jovial mood and careless +of the subject, “do you have a hobby?” + +I answered that I had not felt the need of one. The inquiry was a +surprise and I could think of nothing better to reply with. + +“Then, my boy,” he went on, “what will you do when you are old? One must +have something to occupy the mind.” + +He got up and turned the glass box a little on the mantelpiece. + +“This is a very rare image,” he said; “one does not find this image +anywhere in India. It came from Tibet. The expression and the pose of +the figure differ from the conventional Buddha. You might not see that, +but to any one familiar with this religion these differences are +marked. This is a monastery image, and you will see that it is cast, not +graven.” + +He beckoned me to come closer, and I rose and stood beside him. He went +on as with a lecture: + +“The reason given by the natives why this image is not found in Southern +Asia is that it cannot be cast anywhere but in the Tibetan monasteries. +A certain ritual at the time of casting is necessary to produce a +perfect figure. This ritual is a secret of the Khan monasteries. +Castings of this form of image made without the ritual are always +defective; so I was told in India.” + +He moved the glass box a little closer to the edge of the mantelpiece. + +“Naturally,” he went on, “I considered this story, to be a mere piece of +religious pretension. It amused me to make some experiments, and to +my surprise the castings were always defective. I brought the image to +England.” + +He shrugged his shoulders as with a careless gesture. + +“In my idle time here I tried it again. And incredibly the result was +always the same; some portion of the figure showed a flaw. My interest +in the thing was permanently aroused. I continued to experiment.” + +He laughed in a queer high cackle. + +“And presently I found myself desperately astride a hobby. I got all the +Babbitt metal that I could buy up in England and put in the days and +not a few of the nights in trying to cast a perfect figure of this +confounded Buddha. But I have never been able to do it.” + +He opened a drawer of the gun-case and brought over to the fire half a +dozen castings of the Buddha in various sizes. + +Not one among the number was perfect. Some portion of the figure was in +every case wanting. A hand would be missing, a portion of a shoulder, a +bit of the squat body or there would be a flaw where the running metal +had not filled the mold. + +“I'm hanged,” he cried, “if the beggars are not right about it. The +thing can't be done! I've tried it in all sorts of dimensions. You will +see some of the big figures in the garden. I've used a ton of metal and +every sort of mold.” + +Then he flung his hand out toward the bookcase. + +“I've studied the art of molding in soft metal. I have all the books +on it, and I've turned the boathouse into a sort of shop. I've spent a +hundred pounds--and I can't do it!” + +He paused, his big face relaxed. + +“The country thinks I'm mad, working with such outlandish deviltry. But, +curse the thing, I have set out to do it and I am not going to throw it +up.” + +And suddenly with an unexpected heat he damned the Buddha, shaking his +clenched hand before the box. + +“Your pardon, Robin,” he cried, the moment after. “But the thing's +ridiculous, you know. The ritual story would be sheer rubbish. The +beggars could not affect a metal casting with a form of words.” + +I have tried to set down here precisely what my uncle said. It was +the last talk I ever had with the man in this world, and it profoundly +impressed me. He was in fear, and his jovial manner was a ghastly +pretence. I left him sitting by the fire drinking neat whisky from a +tumbler. + +The old man-servant took me up to my room. It was a big room in a wing +of the house looking out on the garden and the sea. I saw that it had +been cleaned and made ready against my coming; clearly the old man +expected me. + +He put the candle on the table and laid back the covers of the bed. And +suddenly I determined to have the matter out with him. + +“Andrew,” I said, “why did you add that significant word to my uncle's +letter?” + +He turned sharply with a little whimpering cry. + +“The master, sir!” he said, and then he stopped as though uncertain +in what manner to go on. He made a hopeless sort of gesture with his +extended hands. + +“I thought your coming might interrupt the thing.... You are of his +family and would be silent.” + +“What threatens my uncle?” I cried, “What is the thing?” + +He hesitated, his eyes moving about the floor. + +“Oh, sir,” he said, “the master is in some wicked and dangerous +business. You heard his talk, sir; that would not be the talk of a man +at peace.... He has strange visitors, sir, and the place is watched. I +cannot tell you any more than that, except that something is going to +happen and I am shaken with the fear of it.” + +I looked out through the musty curtains before I went to bed. But +the whole world was dark, packed down in the thick mist. Once, in the +direction of the open sea, I thought I saw the flicker of a light. + +I was tired and I slept profoundly, but somewhere in the sleep I saw my +uncle and a priest of Tibet gibbering over a ladle of molten silver. + +It was nearly midday when I awoke. The whole world had changed as under +some enchantment; there was brilliant sun and afresh stimulating air +with the salt breath of the sea in it. Old Andrew gave me some breakfast +and a message. + +His manner like everything else seemed to have undergone some +transformation. He was silent and, I thought, evasive. He repeated the +message without comment, as though he had committed it to memory from an +unfamiliar language: + +“The master directed me to say that he must make a journey to Oban. It +is urgent business and will not be laid over.” + +“When does my uncle return,” I said. + +The old man shifted his weight from one foot to the other; he looked +out through the open window onto the strip of meadow extending into the +loch. Finally he replied: + +“The master did not name the hour of his return.” + +I did not press the interrogation. I felt that there was something here +that the old man was keeping back; but I had an impression of equal +force that he ought to be allowed the run of his discretion with it. +Besides, the brilliant morning had swept out my sinister impressions. + +I got my cap and stick from the rack by the door and went out. The house +was within a hundred paces of the loch, in a place of wild beauty on +a bit of moor, yellow with gorse, extending from the great barren +mountains behind it right down into the water. Immense banners of mist +lay along the tops of these mountain peaks, and streams of water like +skeins of silk marked the deep gorges in dazzling whiteness. + +The loch was a crooked finger of the sea hooked into the land. It was +clear as glass in the bright morning. The open sea was directly beyond +the crook of the finger, barred out by a nest of needlepointed rocks. On +this morning, with the sea motionless, they stood up like the teeth of a +harrow, but in heavy weather I imagined that the waves covered them. To +the eye they were not the height of a man above the level water; they +glistened in the brilliant sun like a sheaf of black pikes. + +This was Saint Conan's Landing, and it occurred to me that if the holy +man came in rough weather from the Irish coast he required, in truth, +all the perspicacity of a saint to get his boat in without having it +impaled on these devil's needles. + +There was no garden to speak of about the house. It was grown up like +the moor. Two or three images of Buddhas stood about in it; one of them +was quite large--three feet in height I should say at a guess. They +were on rough stone pedestals. I examined them carefully. They were all +defective; the large one had an immense flaw in the shoulder. The gorse +nearly covered them; the unkept hedge let the moor in and there were no +longer any paths, except one running to the boathouse. + +I did not follow the path. But I looked down at the boathouse with some +interest. This was the building that my uncle had turned into a sort of +foundry for his weird experiments. There was a big lock on the door and +a coal-blacked chimney standing above the roof. + +It was afternoon. The whole coast about me was like an undiscovered +country. I hardly knew in what direction to set out on my exploration. +I stood in the path digging my stick into the gravel and undecided. +Finally I determined to cross the bit of moor to the high ground +overlooking the loch. It was the sloping base of one of the great peaks +and purple with heather. It looked the best point for a full sweep of +the sea and the coast. + +I jumped the hedge and set out across the moor to the high ground. + +There was no path through the gorse, but when I reached the heather +where the foot of the mountain peak descended into the loch there was +a sort of newly broken trail. The heather was high and dense and I +followed the trail onto the high ground overlooking the sweep of the +coast. + +The loch was dappled with sun. The air was like wine. The mountains +above the moor and the heather were colored like an Oriental carpet. +I was full of the joy of life and swung into an immense stride, when +suddenly a voice stopped me. + +“My lad,” it said, “which one of the Ten Commandments is it the most +dangerous to break?” + +Before me, at the end of the trail, seated on the ground, was a big +Highlander. He was knitting a woolen stocking and his needles were +clicking like an instrument. I was taken off my feet, but I tried to +meet him on his ground. + +“Well,” I answered, “I suppose it would be the one against murder, the +sixth.” + +“You suppose wrong,” he replied. “It will be the first. You will read +in the Book how Jehovah set aside the sixth. Aye, my lad, He ordered it +broken when it pleased Him. But did you ever read that He set aside the +first or that any man escaped who broke it?” + +He spoke with the deep rich burr of his race and with a structure of +speech that I cannot reproduce here. + +“Did you observe,” he added, “the graven images that your uncle has set +up?... Where is the man the noo?” + +“He is gone to Oban,” I said. + +He sprang up and thrust the stocking and needles into his sporran. + +“To Oban!” He stood a moment in some deep reflection. “There will be +ships out of Oban.” Then he put another question to me: + +“What did auld Andrew say about it?” + +“That my uncle was gone to Oban,” I answered, “and had set no time for +his return.” + +He looked at me queerly for a moment, towering above me in the deep +heather. + +“Do you think, my lad, that your uncle could be setting out for heathen +parts to learn the witch words for his hell business in the boathouse?” + +The suggestion startled me. The thing was not beyond all possibility. + +But I felt that I had come to the end of this examination. I was not +going to be questioned further like a small boy overtaken on the road I +had answered a good many questions and I determined to ask one. + +“Who are you?” I said. “And what have you got to do with my uncle's +affairs?” + +He cocked his eye at me, looking down as one looks down at a child. + +“The first of your questions,” he said, “you will find out if you +can, and the second you cannot find out if you will.” And he was gone, +striding past me in the deep heather. + +“I have some business with your uncle, of a pressing nature,” he called +back. “I will just take a look through Oban, the night and the morn's +morn.” + +I was utterly at sea about the big Highlander. He might be a friend +or an enemy of my uncle. But clearly he knew all about the man and the +mysterious experiment in which he was engaged. He was keeping the place +well within his eye; that was also evident. From his seat in the heather +the whole place was spread out below him. + +And his queer speech fitted with old Andrew's fear. Surely the Buddha +was a heathen image and my uncle had set it up. The stern Scotch +conscience would be outraged and see the Decalogue violated in its +injunctions. This would explain the dread with which my uncle's house +was regarded and the reason I could find no man to help me on the way to +it. But it would not explain my uncle's apprehension. + +But my adventure on this afternoon did not end with the big Highlander. +I found out something more. + +I returned along the edge of the loch and approached the boathouse from +the waterside. + +Here the path passed directly along the whole wall of the building. The +path was padded with damp sod, and as it happened I made no sound on it. +It was late afternoon, the shadows were beginning to extend, there was +no wind and the whole world was intensely quiet. Midway of the wall I +stopped to listen. + +The house was not empty. There was some one in it. I could hear him +moving about. + +It was of no use to try to look in through the wall; every joint and +crack of the stones was plastered. I went on. + +Old Andrew was about setting me some supper. He came over and stood a +moment by the window looking at the shadows on the loch. And I tried to +take him unaware with a sudden question: + +“Has my uncle returned from Oban?” + +But I had no profit of the venture. + +“The master,” he said, “is where he went this morning.” + +The strange elements in this affair seemed on the point of converging +upon some common center. The thing was in the air. Old Andrew voiced it +when he went out with his candle. + +“Ah, sir,” he said, “it was the fool work of an old man to bring you +into this affair. The master will have his way and he must meet what +waits for him at the end of it.” + +I saw how he hoped that my visit might interrupt some plan that my uncle +was about to put into effect, but realized that it was useless. + +Clearly my uncle had not left the place; he had been at work all day in +the boathouse. The journey was to account to me for his disappearance. I +had passed the lie along to the queer sentinel that sat watching in the +heather and I wondered whether I had sent a friend or an enemy into Oban +on an empty mission, and whether I had fouled or forwarded my uncle's +enterprise. + +I put out the candle and sat down by the window to keep watch, for the +boathouse, the loch and the open sea were under the sweep of it. But, +alas, Nature overreaches our resolves when we are young. It was far into +the night when I awoke. + +A wind was coming up and I think it was the rattle of the window that +aroused me. There was no moon, but under the open stars the world was +filled with a thin, ghostly light, and the scene below the window was +blurred a little like an impalpable picture. + +A low-masted sailing ship lay in the open sea; there was a boat at the +edge of the loch, and human figures were coming out of the boathouse +with burdens which they were loading into the boat. Almost immediately +the boat, manned with rowers, turned about and silently traversed the +crook of the loch on its way to the ship. But certain of the human +figures remained. They continued between the boathouse and the beach. + +And I realized that I had opened my eyes on the loading of a ship. The +boat was taking off a cargo. + +Something stored in the boathouse was being transferred to the hold of +the sailing ship. The scene was inconceivably unreal. There was no +sound but the intermittent puffs of the wind, and the figures were like +phantoms in a sort of lighted mist. Directly as I looked two figures +came out of the boathouse and along the path to the drawing-room door +under my window. I took off my shoes and crept carefully out of the room +and down the stairway. The door from the hall into the long, low room +was ajar. I stood behind it, and looked in through the crack. + +My uncle was burning letters and papers in the fireplace with a candle, +and in the chair beyond him sat the strangest human creature that I had +ever seen in the world. + +He was a big Oriental with a sodden, brutal face fixed as by some +sorcery into an expression of eternal calm. He wore the uniform of an +English skipper. It was dirty and sea-stained as though picked up at +some sailor's auction. He was speaking to my uncle and his careful +precise sentences in the English tongue, coming from the creature, +seemed thereby to take on added menace. + +“Is it wise, Sahib,” he said, “to leave any man behind us in this +house?” + +“We can do nothing else,” replied my uncle. + +The Oriental continued with the same carefully selected words: + +“Easily we can do something else, Sahib,” he said, “with a bar of pig +securely lashed to the ankles, the sea would receive them.” + +“No, no,” replied my uncle, busy with his letters and the candle. The +big Oriental did not move. + +“Reflect, Sahib,” he went on. “We are entering an immense peril. The +thing that will be hunting us has innumerable agencies everywhere in +its service. If it shall discover that we have falsified its symbols, +it will search the earth for us. And what are we, Sahib, against this +thing? It does not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary.” + +“The lad knows nothing,” replied my uncle, “and old Andrew will keep +silent.” + +“Without trouble, Sahib,” the creature continued, “I can put the young +one beyond all knowledge and the old one beyond all speech. Is it +permitted?” + +My uncle got up from the fireplace, for he had finished with his work. + +“No,” he said, “let there be an end of it.” + +He turned about, and under the glimmer of the candle I could see that +the man had changed; his big pale face was grim with some determined +purpose, and there was about him the courage and the authority of one +who, after long wavering, at last hazards a desperate venture. He broke +the glass box and put the Buddha into his pocket. + +“It is good silver,” he said, “and it has served its purpose.” + +The Oriental got softly onto his feet like a great toy of cotton wood. +His face remained in its expression of equanimity, and he added no +further word of gesture to his argument. + +My uncle held the door open for him to pass out, and after that he +extinguished the candle and followed, closing the door noiselessly +behind him. + +The thing was like a scene acted in a playhouse. But it accomplished +what the playhouse fails in. It put the fear of death into one who +watched it. To me in the dark hall, looking through the crack of the +door, the placid Oriental in his English uniform, and with his precise +words like an Oxford don, was surely the most devilish agency that ever +urged the murder of innocent men on an accomplice. + +The wind was continuing to rise and the mist now covered the loch and +the open sea. It was of no use to stand before the window, for the world +was blotted out. I was cold and I lay down on the bed and wrapped the +covers around me. It seemed only a moment later when old Andrew's hand +was on me, and his thin voice crying in the room. + +“Will you sleep, sir, and God's creatures going to their death!” + +He ran, whimpering in his thin old voice, down the stair, and I followed +him out of the house into the garden. + +It was midmorning. A man was standing before the door, his hands behind +him, looking out at the sea. In his long trousers and bowler hat I +did not at once recognize him for the Highlander of my yesterday's +adventure. + +The coast was in the tail of a storm. The wind boomed, as though puffed +by a bellows, driving in gusts of mist. + +The ship I had seen in the night was hanging in the sea just beyond the +crook of the loch. It fluttered like a snared bird. One could see +the crew trying every device of sail and tacking, but with all their +desperate ingenuities the ship merely hung there shivering like a +stricken creature. + +It was a fearful thing to look at. Now the mist covered everything and +then for a moment the wind swept it out, and all the time, the silent, +deadly struggle went on between the trapped ship and the sea running in +among the needles of the loch. I don't think any of us spoke except the +Highlander once in comment to himself. + +“It's Ram Chad's tramp.... So that's the craft the man was depending +on!” + +Then the mist shut down. When it lifted, the doom of the ship was +written. It was moving slowly into the deadly maw of the loch. + +Again the mist shut down and, when again the wind swept it out, the ship +had vanished. + +There was the open sea and the long swells and the murderous current +boiling around the sharp points of the needles; but there was no ship +nor any human soul of the crew. Old Andrew screamed like a woman at the +sight. + +“The ship!” he cried. “Where is the ship and the master?” + +The thing was so swift and awful that I spoke myself. + +“My God!” I said. “How quickly the thing they feared destroyed them!” + +The big Highlander came over where I stood. The burr of his speech and +its sacred imagery were gone with his change of dress. + +“No,” he said, “they escaped the thing they feared.... What do you think +it was?” + +“I don't know,” I answered. “The creature in the English uniform said +that it did not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary.” + +“Ram Chad was right,” replied the Highlander. “The British government +neither dies, ages, nor tires out. Do you realize what your uncle was +doing here?” + +“Molding images of Buddha,” I said. + +“Molding Indian rupees,” he retorted. + +“The Buddha business was a blind.... I'm Sir Henry Marquis, Chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. ... We got track of +him in India.” + +Then he added: + +“There's a hundred thousand sterling in false coin at the bottom of the +loch yonder!” + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by +Melville Davisson Post + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE *** + +***** This file should be named 2861-0.txt or 2861-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/2861/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg 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. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2861-0.zip b/2861-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..89d5390 --- /dev/null +++ b/2861-0.zip diff --git a/2861-h.zip b/2861-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19de12e --- /dev/null +++ b/2861-h.zip diff --git a/2861-h/2861-h.htm b/2861-h/2861-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..085da41 --- /dev/null +++ b/2861-h/2861-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12642 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by Melville Davisson Post + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by +Melville Davisson Post + +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: The Sleuth of St. James's Square + +Author: Melville Davisson Post + +Release Date: January 2, 2009 [EBook #2861] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Melville Davisson Post + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <h4> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>The SLEUTH of St. JAMES'S SQUARE</b> </a> + </h4> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Thing on the Hearth + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Reward + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Lost Lady + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Cambered Foot + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Man in the Green Hat + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Wrong Sign + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Fortune Teller + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Hole in the Mahogany Panel + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + The End of the Road + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Last Adventure + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + American Horses + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Spread Rails + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Pumpkin Coach + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + The Yellow Flower + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + Satire of the Sea + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + The House by the Loch + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + The SLEUTH of St. JAMES'S SQUARE + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. The Thing on the Hearth + </h2> + <p> + “THE first confirmatory evidence of the thing, Excellency, was the print + of a woman's bare foot.” + </p> + <p> + He was an immense creature. He sat in an upright chair that seemed to have + been provided especially for him. The great bulk of him flowed out and + filled the chair. It did not seem to be fat that enveloped him. It seemed + rather to be some soft, tough fiber, like the pudgy mass making up the + body of a deep-sea thing. One got an impression of strength. + </p> + <p> + The country was before the open window; the clusters of cultivated shrub + on the sweep of velvet lawn extending to the great wall that inclosed the + place, then the bend of the river and beyond the distant mountains, blue + and mysterious, blending indiscernibly into the sky. A soft sun, clouded + with the haze of autumn, shone over it. + </p> + <p> + “You know how the faint moisture in the bare foot will make an + impression.” + </p> + <p> + He paused as though there was some compelling force in the reflection. It + was impossible to say, with accuracy, to what race the man belonged. He + came from some queer blend of Eastern peoples. His body and the cast of + his features were Mongolian. But one got always, before him, a feeling of + the hot East lying low down against the stagnant Suez. One felt that he + had risen slowly into our world of hard air and sun out of the vast + sweltering ooze of it. + </p> + <p> + He spoke English with a certain care in the selection of the words, but + with ease and an absence of effort, as though languages were instinctive + to him—as though he could speak any language. And he impressed one + with this same effortless facility in all the things he did. + </p> + <p> + It is necessary to try to understand this, because it explains the + conception everybody got of the creature, when they saw him in charge of + Rodman. I am using precisely the descriptive words; he was exclusively in + charge of Rodman, as a jinn in an Arabian tale might have been in charge + of a king's son. + </p> + <p> + The creature was servile—with almost a groveling servility. But one + felt that this servility resulted from something potent and secret. One + looked to see Rodman take Solomon's ring out of his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + I suppose there is no longer any doubt about the fact that Rodman was one + of those gigantic human intelligences who sometimes appear in the world, + and by their immense conceptions dwarf all human knowledge—a sort of + mental monster that we feel nature has no right to produce. Lord Bayless + Truxley said that Rodman was some generations in advance of the time; and + Lord Bayless Truxley was, beyond question, the greatest authority on + synthetic chemistry in the world. + </p> + <p> + Rodman was rich and, everybody supposed, indolent; no one ever thought + very much about him until he published his brochure on the scientific + manufacture of precious stones. Then instantly everybody with any + pretension to a knowledge of synthetic chemistry turned toward him. + </p> + <p> + The brochure startled the world. + </p> + <p> + It proposed to adapt the luster and beauty of jewels to commercial uses. + We were being content with crude imitation colors in our commercial glass, + when we could quite as easily have the actual structure and the actual + luster of the jewel in it. We were painfully hunting over the earth, and + in its bowels, for a few crystals and prettily colored stones which we + hoarded and treasured, when in a manufacturing laboratory we could easily + produce them, more perfect than nature, and in unlimited quantity. + </p> + <p> + Now, if you want to understand what I am printing here about Rodman, you + must think about this thing as a scientific possibility and not as a + fantastic notion. Take, for example, Rodman's address before the Sorbonne, + or his report to the International Congress of Science in Edinburgh, and + you will begin to see what I mean. The Marchese Giovanni, who was a + delegate to that congress, and Pastreaux, said that the something in the + way of an actual practical realization of what Rodman outlined was the + formulae. If Rodman could work out the formulae, jewel-stuff could be + produced as cheaply as glass, and in any quantity—by the carload. + Imagine it; sheet ruby, sheet emerald, all the beauty and luster of jewels + in the windows of the corner drugstore! + </p> + <p> + And there is another thing that I want you to think about. Think about the + immense destruction of value—not to us, so greatly, for our stocks + of precious stones are not large; but the thing meant, practically, wiping + out all the assembled wealth of Asia except the actual earth and its + structures. + </p> + <p> + The destruction of value was incredible. + </p> + <p> + Put the thing some other way and consider it. Suppose we should suddenly + discover that pure gold could be produced by treating common yellow clay + with sulphuric acid, or that some genius should set up a machine on the + border of the Sahara that received sand at one end and turned out sacked + wheat at the other! What, then, would our hoarded gold be worth, or the + wheat-lands of Australia, Canada or our Northwest? + </p> + <p> + The illustrations are fantastic. But the thing Rodman was after was a + practical fact. He had it on the way. Giovanni and Lord Bayless Truxley + were convinced that the man would work out the formulae. They tried, over + their signatures, to prepare the world for it. + </p> + <p> + The whole of Asia was appalled. The rajahs of the native states in India + prepared a memorial and sent it to the British Government. + </p> + <p> + The thing came out after the mysterious, incredible tragedy. I should not + have written that final sentence. I want you to think, just now, about the + great hulk of a man that sat in his big chair beyond me at the window. + </p> + <p> + It was like Rodman to turn up with an outlandish human creature attending + him hand and foot. How the thing came about reads like a lie; it reads + like a lie; the wildest lie that anybody ever put forward to explain a big + yellow Oriental following one about. + </p> + <p> + But it was no lie. You could not think up a lie to equal the actual things + that happened to Rodman. Take the way he died!.... + </p> + <p> + The thing began in India. Rodman had gone there to consult with the + Marchese Giovanni concerning some molecular theory that was involved in + his formulas. Giovanni was digging up a buried temple on the northern + border of the Punjab. One night, in the explorer's tent, near the + excavations, this inscrutable creature walked in on Rodman. No one knew + how he got into the tent or where he came from. + </p> + <p> + Giovanni told about it. The tent-flap simply opened, and the big Oriental + appeared. He had something under his arm rolled up in a prayer-carpet. He + gave no attention to Giovanni, but he salaamed like a coolie to the little + American. + </p> + <p> + “Master,” he said, “you were hard to find. I have looked over the world + for you.” + </p> + <p> + And he squatted down on the dirty floor by Rodman's camp stool. + </p> + <p> + Now, that's precisely the truth. I suppose any ordinary person would have + started no end of fuss. But not Rodman, and not, I think, Giovanni. + There's the attitude that we can't understand in a genius—did you + ever know a man with an inventive mind who doubted a miracle? A thing like + that did not seem unreasonable to Rodman. + </p> + <p> + The two men spent the remainder of the night looking at the present that + the creature brought Rodman in his prayer-carpet. They wanted to know + where the Oriental got it, and that's how his story came out. + </p> + <p> + He was something—searcher, seems our nearest English word to it—in + the great Shan Monastery on the southeastern plateau of the Gobi. He was + looking for Rodman because he had the light—here was another word + that the two men could find no term in any modern language to translate; a + little flame, was the literal meaning. + </p> + <p> + The present was from the treasure-room of the monastery; the very carpet + around it, Giovanni said, was worth twenty thousand lire. There was + another thing that came out in the talk that Giovanni afterward recalled. + Rodman was to accept the present and the man who brought it to him. The + Oriental would protect him, in every way, in every direction, from things + visible and invisible. He made quite a speech about it. But, there was one + thing from which he could not protect him. + </p> + <p> + The Oriental used a lot of his ancient words to explain, and he did not + get it very clear. He seemed to mean that the creative Forces of the + spirit would not tolerate a division of worship with the creative forces + of the body—the celibate notion in the monastic idea. + </p> + <p> + Giovanni thought Rodman did not understand it; he thought he himself + understood it better. The monk was pledging Rodman to a high virtue, in + the lapse of which something awful was sure to happen. + </p> + <p> + Giovanni wrote a letter to the State Department when he learned what had + happened to Rodman. The State Department turned it over to the court at + the trial. I think it was one of the things that influenced the judge in + his decision. Still, at the time, there seemed no other reasonable + decision to make. The testimony must have appeared incredible; it must + have appeared fantastic. No man reading the record could have come to any + other conclusion about it. Yet it seemed impossible—at least, it + seemed impossible for me—to consider this great vital bulk of a man + as a monk of one of the oldest religious orders in the world. Every + common, academic conception of such a monk he distinctly negatived. He + impressed me, instead, as possessing the ultimate qualities of clever + diplomacy—the subtle ambassador of some new Oriental power, shrewd, + suave, accomplished. + </p> + <p> + When one read the yellow-backed court-record, the sense of old, obscure, + mysterious agencies moving in sinister menace, invisibly, around Rodman + could not be escaped from. You believed it. Against your reason, against + all modern experience of life, you believed it. + </p> + <p> + And yet it could not be true! One had to find that verdict or topple over + all human knowledge—that is, all human knowledge as we understand + it. The judge, cutting short the criminal trial, took the only way out of + the thing. + </p> + <p> + There was one man in the world that everybody wished could have been + present at the time. That was Sir Henry Marquis. Marquis was chief of the + Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. He had been in charge + of the English secret service on the frontier of the Shan states, and at + the time he was in Asia. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Scotland Yard could release Sir Henry, it sent him. Rodman's + genius was the common property of the world. The American Government could + not, even with the verdict of a trial court, let Rodman's death go by + under the smoke-screen of such a weird, inscrutable mystery. + </p> + <p> + I was to meet Sir Henry and come here with him. But my train into New + England was delayed, and when I arrived at the station, I found that + Marquis had gone down to have a look at Rodman's country-house, where the + thing had happened. + </p> + <p> + It was on an isolated forest ridge of the Berkshires, no human soul within + a dozen miles of it—a comfortable stone house in the English + fashion. There was a big drawing-room across one end of it, with an + immense fireplace framed in black marble under a great white panel to the + ceiling. It had a wide black-marble hearth. There is an excellent + photograph of it in the record, showing the single andiron, that + mysterious andiron upon which the whole tragedy seemed to turn as on a + hinge. + </p> + <p> + Rodman used this drawing-room for a workshop. He kept it close-shuttered + and locked. Not even this big, yellow, servile creature who took exclusive + care of him in the house was allowed to enter, except under Rodman's eye. + What he saw in the final scenes of the tragedy, he saw looking in through + a crack under the door. The earlier things he noticed when he put logs on + the fire at dark. + </p> + <p> + Time is hardly a measure for the activities of the mind. These reflections + winged by in a scarcely perceptible interval of it. They have taken me + some time to write out here, but they crowded past while the big Oriental + was speaking—in the pause between his words. + </p> + <p> + “The print,” he continued, “was the first confirmation of evidence, but it + was not the first indicatory sign. I doubt if the Master himself noticed + the thing at the beginning. The seductions of this disaster could not have + come quickly; and besides that, Excellency, the agencies behind the + material world get a footing in it only with continuous pressure. Do not + receive a wrong impression, Excellency; to the eye a thing will suddenly + appear, but the invisible pressure will have been for some time behind + that materialization.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “The Master was sunk in his labor, and while that enveloped him, the first + advances of the lure would have gone by unnoticed—and the tension of + the pressure. But the day was at hand when the Master was receptive. He + had got his work completed; the formula, penciled out, were on his table. + I knew by the relaxation. Of all periods this is the one most dangerous to + the human spirit.” + </p> + <p> + He sat silent for a moment, his big fingers moving on the arms of the + chair. + </p> + <p> + “I knew,” he added. Then he went on: “But it was the one thing against + which I could not protect him. The test was to be permitted.” + </p> + <p> + He made a vague gesture. + </p> + <p> + “The Master was indicated—but the peril antecedent to his elevation + remained.... It was to be permitted, and at its leisure and in its choice + of time.” + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply toward me, the folds of his face unsteady. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency!” he cried. “I would have saved the Master, I would have saved + him with my soul's damnation, but it was not permitted. On that first + night in the Italian's tent I said all I could.” + </p> + <p> + His voice went into a higher note. + </p> + <p> + “Twice, for the Master, I have been checked and reduced in merit. For that + bias I was myself encircled. I was in an agony of spirit when I knew that + the thing was beginning to advance, but my very will to aid was at the + time environed.” + </p> + <p> + His voice descended. + </p> + <p> + He sat motionless, as though the whole bulk of him were devitalized, and + maintained its outline only by the inclosing frame of the chair. + </p> + <p> + “It began, Excellency, on an August night. There is a chill in these + mountains at sunset. I had put wood into the fireplace, and lighted it, + and was about the house. The Master, as I have said, had worked out his + formulae. He was at leisure. I could not see him, for the door was closed, + but the odor of his cigar escaped from the room. It was very silent. I was + placing the Master's bed-candle on the table in the hall, when I heard his + voice.... You have read it, Excellency, as the scriveners wrote it down + before the judge.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “It was an exclamation of surprise, of astonishment. Then I heard the + Master get up softly and go over to the fireplace... Presently he + returned. He got a new cigar, Excellency, clipped it and lighted it. I + could hear the blade of the knife on the fiber of the tobacco, and of + course, clearly the rasp of the match. A moment later I knew that he was + in the chair again. The odor of ignited tobacco returned. It was some time + before there was another sound in the room; then suddenly I heard the + Master swear. His voice was sharp and astonished. This time, Excellency, + he got up swiftly and crossed the room to the fireplace... I could hear + him distinctly. There was the sound of one tapping on metal, thumping it, + as with the fingers.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped again, for a brief moment, as in reflection. + </p> + <p> + “It was then that the Master unlocked the door and asked for the liquor.” + He indicated the court record in my pocket. “I brought it, a goblet of + brandy, with some carbonated water. He drank it all without putting down + the glass.... His face was strange, Excellency.... Then he looked at me. + </p> + <p> + “'Put a log on the fire,' he said. + </p> + <p> + “I went in and added wood to the fire and came out. + </p> + <p> + “The Master remained in the doorway; he reentered when I came out, and + closed the door behind him.... There was a long silence after that; them I + heard the voice, permitted to the devocation thin, metallic, offering the + barter to the Master. It began and ceased because the Master was on his + feet and before the fireplace. I heard him swear again, and presently + return to his place by the table.” + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental lifted his face and looked out at the sweep of country + before the window. + </p> + <p> + “The thing went on, Excellency, the voice offering its lure, and + presenting it in brief flashes of materialization, and the Master + endeavoring to seize and detain the visitations, which ceased instantly at + his approach to the hearth.” + </p> + <p> + The man paused. + </p> + <p> + “I knew the Master contended in vain against the thing; if he would + acquire possession of what it offered, he must destroy what the creative + forces of the spirit had released to him.” + </p> + <p> + Again he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Toward morning he went out of the house. I could hear him walking on the + gravel before the door. He would walk the full length of the house and + return. The night was clear; there was a chill in it, and every sound was + audible. + </p> + <p> + “That was all, Excellency. The Master returned a little later and ascended + to his bedroom as usual.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “It was when I went in to put wood on the fire that I saw the footprint on + the hearth.” + </p> + <p> + There was a force, compelling and vivid, in these meager details, the + severe suppression of things, big and tragic. No elaboration could have + equaled, in effect, the virtue of this restraint. + </p> + <p> + The man was going on, directly, with the story. + </p> + <p> + “The following night, Excellency, the thing happened. The Master had + passed the day in the open. He dined with a good appetite, like a man in + health. And there was a change in his demeanor. He had the aspect of men + who are determined to have a thing out at any hazard. + </p> + <p> + “After his dinner the Master went into the drawing-room and closed the + door behind him. He had not entered the room on this day. It had stood + locked and close-shuttered!” + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental paused and made a gesture outward with his fingers, as of + one dismissing an absurdity. + </p> + <p> + “No living human being could have been concealed in that room. There is + only the bare floor, the Master's table and the fireplace. The great wood + shutters were bolted in, as they had stood since the Master took the room + for a workshop and removed the furniture. The door was always locked with + that special thief-proof lock that the American smiths had made for it. No + one could have entered.” + </p> + <p> + It was the report of the experts at the trial. They showed by the casing + of rust on the bolts that the shutters had not been moved; the walls, + ceiling and floor were undisturbed; the throat of the chimney was coated + evenly with old soot. Only the door was possible as an entry, and this was + always locked except when Rodman was himself in the room. And at such + times the big Oriental never left his post in the hall before it. That + seemed a condition of his mysterious overcare of Rodman. + </p> + <p> + Everybody thought the trial court went to an excessive care. It + scrutinized in minute detail every avenue that could possibly lead to a + solution of the mystery. The whole country and every resident was + inquisitioned. The conclusion was inevitable. There was no human creature + on that forest crest of the Berkshires but Rodman and his servant. + </p> + <p> + But one can see why the trial judge kept at the thing; he was seeking an + explanation consistent with the common experience of mankind. And when he + could not find it, he did the only thing he could do. He was wrong, as we + now know. But he had a hold in the dark on the truth—not the whole + truth by any means; he never had a glimmer of that. He never had the + faintest conception of the big, amazing truth. But as I have said, he had + his fingers on one essential fact. + </p> + <p> + The man was going on with a slow, precise articulation as though he would + thereby make a difficult matter clear. + </p> + <p> + “The night had fallen swiftly. It was incredibly silent. There was no + sound in the Master's room, and no light except the flicker of the logs + smoldering in the fireplace. The thin line of it appeared faintly along + the sill of the door.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “The fireplace, Excellency, is at the end of the great room, directly + opposite this door into the hall, before which I always sat when the + Master was within. The fireplace is of black marble with an immense + black-marble hearth. And the gift which I had brought the Master stands on + one side of the fire, on this marble hearth, as though it were a single + andiron.” + </p> + <p> + The man turned back into the heart of his story. + </p> + <p> + “I knew by the vague sense of pressure that the devocations of the thing + were again on the way. And I began to suffer in the spirit for the + Master's safety. Interference, both by act and by the will, were denied + me. But there is an anxiety of spirit, Excellency, that the uncertainty of + an issue makes intolerable.” + </p> + <p> + The man paused. + </p> + <p> + “The pressure continued—and the silence. It was nearly midnight. I + could not distinguish any act or motion of the Master, and in fear I crept + over to the door and looked in through the crevice along the threshold. + </p> + <p> + “The Master sat by his table; he was straining forward, his hands gripping + the arms of his chair. His eyes and every tense instinct of the man were + concentrated on the fireplace. The red light of the embers was in the + room. I could see him clearly, and the table beyond him with the + calculations; but the fireplace seemed strangely out of perspective—it + extended above me. + </p> + <p> + “My gift to the Master, not more than four handbreaths in length, + including the base, stood now like an immense bronze on an extended marble + slab beside a gigantic fireplace. This effect of extension put the top of + the fireplace and the enlarged andiron, above its pedestal, out of my line + of vision. Everything else in the chamber, holding its normal dimensions, + was visible to me. + </p> + <p> + “The Master's face was a little lifted. He was looking at the elevated + portions of the andiron which were invisible to me. He did not move. The + steady light threw half of his face into shadow. But in the other half + every feature stood out sharply as in a delicate etching. It had that + refined sharpness and distinction which intense moments of stress stamp on + the human face. He did not move, and there was no sound. + </p> + <p> + “I have said, Excellency, that my angle of vision along the crevice of the + doorsill was sharply cut midway of this now enlarged fireplace. From the + direction and lift of the Master's face, he was watching something above + this line and directly over the pedestal of the andiron. I watched, also, + flattening my face against the sill, for the thing to appear. + </p> + <p> + “And it did appear. + </p> + <p> + “A naked foot became slowly visible, as though some one were descending + with extreme care from the elevation of the andiron to the great marble + hearth, under this strange enlargement, now some distance below.” + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental paused, and looked down at me. + </p> + <p> + “I knew then, Excellency, that the Master was lost! The creative energies + of the Spirit suffer no division of worship; those of the body must be + wholly denied. I had warned the Master. And in travail, Excellency, I + turned over with my face to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “But there is always hope, hope over the certainties of experience, over + the certainties of knowledge. Perhaps the Master, even now, sustained in + the spirit, would put away the devocation.... No, Excellency, I was not + misled. I knew the Master was beyond hope! But the will to hope moved me, + and I turned back to the crevice at the doorsill.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “There was now a delicate odor, everywhere, faintly, like the blossom of + the little bitter apple here in your country. The red embers in the + fireplace gave out a steady light; and in the glow of it, on the marble + hearth, stood the one who had descended from the elevation of the + andiron.” + </p> + <p> + Again the man hesitated, as for an accurate method of expression. + </p> + <p> + “In the flesh, Excellency, there was color that would not appear in the + image. The hair was yellow, and the eyes were blue; and against the black + marble of the fireplace the body was conspicuously white. But in every + other aspect of her, Excellency, the woman was on the hearth in the flesh + as she is in the clutch of the savage male figure in the image. + </p> + <p> + “There is no dress or ornament, as you will recall, Excellency. Not even + an ear-jewel or an anklet, as though the graver of the image felt that the + inherent beauty of his figure could take nothing from these ostentations. + The woman's heavy yellow hair was wound around her head, as in the image. + She shivered a little, faintly, like a naked child in an unaccustomed + draught of air, although she stood on the warm marble hearth and within + the red glow of the fire. + </p> + <p> + “The voice from the male figure of the image, which I had brought the + Master, and which stood as the andiron, now so immensely enlarged, was + beginning again to speak. The thin metallic sounds seemed to splinter + against the dense silence, as it went forward in the ritual prescribed. + </p> + <p> + “But the Master had already decided; he stood now on the great marble + hearth with his papers crushed together. And as I looked on, through the + crevice under the doorsill, he put out his free hand and with his finger + touched the woman gently. The flesh under his finger yielded, and stooping + over, he put the formulas into the fire.” + </p> + <p> + Like one who has come to the end of his story, the huge Oriental stopped. + He remained for some moments silent. Then he continued in an even, + monotonous voice: + </p> + <p> + “I got up from the floor then, and purified myself with water. And after + that I went into an upper chamber, opened the window to the east, and sat + down to write my report to the brotherhood. For the thing which I had been + sent to do was finished.” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand somewhere into the loose folds of his Oriental garment and + brought out a roll of thin vellum like onion-skin, painted in Chinese + characters. It was of immense length, but on account of the thinness of + the vellum, the roll wound on a tiny cylinder of wood was not above two + inches in thickness. + </p> + <p> + “Excellency,” he said, “I have carefully concealed this report through the + misfortunes that have attended me. It is not certain that I shall be able + to deliver it. Will you give it for me to the jewel merchant Vanderdick, + in Amsterdam? He will send it to Mahadal in Bombay, and it will go north + with the caravans.” + </p> + <p> + His voice changed into a note of solicitation. + </p> + <p> + “You will not fail me, Excellency—already for my bias to the Master + I am reduced in merit.” + </p> + <p> + I put the scroll into my pocket and went out, for a motorcar had come into + the park, and I knew that Marquis had arrived. + </p> + <p> + I met Sir Henry and the superintendent in the long corridor; they had been + looking in at my interview through the elevated grating. + </p> + <p> + “Marquis,” I cried, “the judge was right to cut short the criminal trial + and issue a lunacy warrant. This creature is the maddest lunatic in this + whole asylum. The human mind is capable of any absurdity.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry looked at me with a queer ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “The judge was wrong,” he said. “The creature, as you call him, is as sane + as any of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you believe this amazing story?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I believe Rodman was found at daylight dead on the hearth, with + practically every bone in his body crushed,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” I said. “We all know that is true. But why was he killed?” + </p> + <p> + Again Sir Henry regarded me with his ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” he drawled, “there is some explanation in the report in your + pocket, to the Monastic Head. It's only a theory, you know.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, showing his white, even teeth. + </p> + <p> + We went into the superintendent's room, and sat down by a smoldering fire + of coals in the gate. I handed Marquis the roll of vellum. It was in one + of the Shan dialects. He read it aloud. With the addition of certain + formal expressions, it contained precisely the Oriental's testimony before + the court, and no more. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said in his curiously inflected Oxford voice. + </p> + <p> + And he held the scroll out to the heat of the fire. The vellum baked + slowly, and as it baked, the black Chinese characters faded out and faint + blue ones began to appear. + </p> + <p> + Marquis read the secret message in his emotionless drawl: + </p> + <p> + “'The American is destroyed, and his accursed work is destroyed with him. + Send the news to Bangkok and west to Burma. The treasures of India are + saved.”' + </p> + <p> + I cried out in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “An assassin! The creature was an assassin! He killed Rodman simply by + crushing him in his arms!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry's drawl lengthened. + </p> + <p> + “It's Lal Gupta,” he said, “the cleverest Oriental in the whole of Asia. + The jewel-traders sent him to watch Rodman, and to kill him if he was ever + able to get his formulae worked out. They must have paid him an incredible + sum.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why the creature attached himself to Rodman!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” replied Sir Henry. “He brought that bronze Romulus carrying off + the Sabine woman and staged the supernatural to work out his plan and to + save his life. I knew the bronze as soon as I got my eye on it—old + Franz Josef gave it as a present to Mahadal in Bombay for matching up some + rubies.” + </p> + <p> + I swore bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “And we took him for a lunatic!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” replied Sir Henry. “What was it you said as I came in? 'The + human mind is capable of any absurdity!'” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. The Reward + </h2> + <p> + I was before one of those difficult positions unavoidable to a visitor in + a foreign country. + </p> + <p> + I had to meet the obligations of professional courtesy. Captain Walker had + asked me to go over the manuscript of his memoirs; and now he had called + at the house in which I was a guest, for my opinion. We had long been + friends; associated in innumerable cases, and I wished to suggest the + difficulty rather than to express it. It was the twilight of an early + Washington winter. The lights in the great library, softened with delicate + shades, had been turned on. Outside, Sheridan Circle was almost a thing of + beauty in its vague outlines; even the squat, ridiculous bronze horse had + a certain dignity in the blue shadow. + </p> + <p> + If one had been speculating on the man, from his physical aspect one would + have taken Walker for an engineer of some sort, rather than the head of + the United States Secret Service. His lean face and his angular manner + gaffe that impression. Even now, motionless in the big chair beyond the + table, he seemed—how shall I say it?—mechanical. + </p> + <p> + And that was the very defect in his memoir. He had cut the great cases + into a dry recital. There was no longer in them any pressure of a human + impulse. The glow of inspired detail had been dissected out. Everything + startling and wonderful had been devitalized. + </p> + <p> + The memoir was a report. + </p> + <p> + The bulky typewritten manuscript lay on the table beside the electric + lamp, and I stood about uncertain how to tell him. + </p> + <p> + “Walker,” I said, “did nothing wonderful ever happen to you in the + adventure of these cases?” + </p> + <p> + “What precisely do you mean, Sir Henry?” he replied. + </p> + <p> + The practical nature of the man tempted me to extravagance. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “for example, were you never kissed in a lonely street by + a mysterious woman and the flash of your dark lantern reveal a face of + startling beauty?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, as though he were answering a sensible question, “that + never happened to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” I continued, “perhaps you have found a prince of the church, pale + as alabaster, sitting in his red robe, who put together the indicatory + evidence of the crime that baffled you with such uncanny acumen that you + stood aghast at his perspicacity?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said; and then his face lighted. “But I'll tell you what I did + find. I found a drunken hobo at Atlantic City who was the best detective I + ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + I sat down and tapped the manuscript with my fingers. + </p> + <p> + “It's not here,” I said. “Why did you leave it out?” + </p> + <p> + He took a big gold watch out of his pocket and turned it about in his + hand. The case was covered with an inscription. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir Henry,” he said, “the boys in the department think a good deal + of me. I shouldn't like them to know how a dirty tramp faked me at + Atlantic City. I don't mind telling you, but I couldn't print it in a + memoir.” + </p> + <p> + He went directly ahead with the story and I was careful not to interrupt + him: + </p> + <p> + “I was sitting in a rolling chair out there on the Boardwalk before the + Traymore. I was nearly all in, and I had taken a run to Atlantic for a day + or two of the sea air. The fact is the whole department was down and out. + You may remember what we were up against; it finally got into the + newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “The government plates of the Third Liberty Bond issue had disappeared. We + knew how they had gotten out, and we thought we knew the man at the head + of the thing. It was a Mulehaus job, as we figured it. + </p> + <p> + “It was too big a thing for a little crook. With the government plates + they could print Liberty Bonds just as the Treasury would. And they could + sow the world with them.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and moved his gold-rimmed spectacles a little closer in on his + nose. + </p> + <p> + “You see these war bonds are scattered all over the country. They are held + by everybody. It's not what it used to be, a banker's business that we + could round up. Nobody could round up the holders of these bonds. + </p> + <p> + “A big crook like Mulehaus could slip a hundred million of them into the + country and never raise a ripple.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and drew his fingers across his bony protruding chin. + </p> + <p> + “I'll say this for Mulehaus: He's the hardest man to identify in the whole + kingdom of crooks. Scotland Yard, the Service de la Surete, everybody, + says that. I don't mean dime-novel disguises—false whiskers and a + limp. I mean the ability to be the character he pretends—the thing + that used to make Joe Jefferson, Rip Van Winkle—and not an actor + made up to look like him. That's the reason nobody could keep track of + Mulehaus, especially in South American cities. He was a French banker in + the Egypt business and a Swiss banker in the Argentine.” + </p> + <p> + He turned back from the digression: + </p> + <p> + “And it was a clean job. They had got away with the plates. We didn't have + a clew. We thought, naturally, that they'd make for Mexico or some South + American country to start their printing press. And we had the ports and + border netted up. Nothing could have gone out across the border or, + through any port. All the customs officers were, working with us, and + every agent of the Department of Justice.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me steadily across the table. + </p> + <p> + “You see the Government had to get those plates back before the crook + started to print, or else take up every bond of that issue over the whole + country. It was a hell of a thing! + </p> + <p> + “Of course we had gone right after the record of all the big crooks to see + whose line this sort of job was. And the thing narrowed down to Mulehaus + or old Vronsky. We soon found out it wasn't Vronsky. He was in Joliet. It + was Mulehaus. But we couldn't find him. + </p> + <p> + “We didn't even know that Mulehaus was in America. He's a big crook with a + genius for selecting men. He might be directing the job from Rio or a + Mexican port. But we were sure it was a Mulehaus' job. He sold the French + securities in Egypt in '90; and he's the man who put the bogus Argentine + bonds on our market—you'll find the case in the 115th Federal + Reporter. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he went on, “I was sitting out there in the rolling chair, looking + at the sun on the sea and thinking about the thing, when I noticed this + hobo that I've been talking about. He was my chair attendant, but I hadn't + looked at him before. He had moved round from behind me and was now + leaning against the galvanized pipe railing. + </p> + <p> + “He was a big human creature, a little stooped, unshaved and dirty; his + mouth was slack and loose, and he had a big mobile nose that seemed to + move about like a piece of soft rubber. He had hardly any clothing; a cap + that must have been fished out of an ash barrel, no shirt whatever, merely + an old ragged coat buttoned round him, a pair of canvas breeches and + carpet slippers tied on to his feet with burlap, and wrapped round his + ankles to conceal the fact that he wore no socks. + </p> + <p> + “As I looked at him he darted out, picked up the stump of a cigarette that + some one had thrown down, and came back to the railing to smoke it, his + loose mouth and his big soft nose moving like kneaded putty. + </p> + <p> + “Altogether this tramp was the worst human derelict I ever saw. And it + occurred to me that this was the one place in the whole of America where + any sort of a creature could get a kind of employment and no questions + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Anything that could move and push a chair could get fifteen cents an hour + from McDuyal. Wise man, poor man, beggar man, thief, it was all one to + McDuyal. And the creatures could sleep in the shed behind the rolling + chairs. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose an impulse to offer the man a garment of some sort moved me to + address him. + </p> + <p> + “'You're nearly naked,' I said. + </p> + <p> + “He crossed one leg over the other with the toe of the carpet slipper + touching the walk, in the manner of a burlesque actor, took the cigarette + out of his mouth with a little flourish, and replied to me: + </p> + <p> + “'Sure, Governor, I ain't dolled up like John Drew.' + </p> + <p> + “There was a sort of cocky unconcern about the creature that gave his + miserable state a kind of beggarly distinction. He was in among the very + dregs of life, and he was not depressed about it. + </p> + <p> + “'But if I had a sawbuck,” he continued, “I could bulge your eye .... + Couldn't point the way to one?' + </p> + <p> + “He arrested my answer with the little flourish of his fingers holding the + stump of the cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “'Not work, Governor,' and he made a little duck of his head, 'and not + murder.... Go as far as you please between 'em.' + </p> + <p> + “The fantastic manner of the derelict was infectious. + </p> + <p> + “'O. K.' I said. 'Go out and find me a man who is a deserter from the + German Army, was a tanner in Bale and began life as a sailor, and I'll + double your money—I'll give you a twenty-dollar bill.' + </p> + <p> + “The creature whistled softly in two short staccato notes. + </p> + <p> + “'Some little order,' he said. And taking a toothpick out of his pocket he + stuck it into the stump of the cigarette which had become too short to + hold between his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “At this moment a boy from the post office came to me with the daily + report from Washington, and I got out of the chair, tipped the creature, + and went into the hotel, stopping to pay McDuyal as I passed. + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing new from the department except that our organization + over the country was in close touch. We had offered five thousand dollars + reward for the recovery of the plates, and the Post Office Department was + now posting the notice all over America in every office. The Secretary + thought we had better let the public in on it and not keep it an + underground offer to the service. + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten the hobo, when about five o'clock he passed me a little + below the Steel Pier. He was in a big stride and he had something clutched + in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “He called to me as he hurried along: 'I got him, Governor.... See you + later!' + </p> + <p> + “'See me now,' I said. 'What's the hurry?' + </p> + <p> + “He flashed his hand open, holding a silver dollar with his thumb against + the palm. + </p> + <p> + “'Can't stop now, I'm going to get drunk. See you later.' + </p> + <p> + “I smiled at this disingenuous creature. He was saving me for the dry + hour. He could point out Mulehaus in any passing chair, and I would give + some coin to be rid of his pretension.” + </p> + <p> + Walker paused. Then he went on: + </p> + <p> + “I was right. The hobo was waiting for me when I came out of the hotel the + following morning. + </p> + <p> + “'Howdy, Governor,' he said; 'I located your man.' + </p> + <p> + “I was interested to see how he would frame up his case. + </p> + <p> + “'How did you find him?' I said. + </p> + <p> + “He grinned, moving his lip and his loose nose. + </p> + <p> + “'Some luck, Governor, and some sleuthin'. It was like this: I thought you + was stringin' me. But I said to myself I'll keep out an eye; maybe it's on + the level—any damn thing can happen.' + </p> + <p> + “He put up his hand as though to hook his thumb into the armhole of his + vest, remembered that he had only a coat buttoned round him and dropped + it. + </p> + <p> + “'And believe me or not, Governor, it's the God's truth. About four + o'clock up toward the Inlet I passed a big, well-dressed, banker-looking + gent walking stiff from the hip and throwing out his leg. “Come eleven!” I + said to myself. “It's the goosestep!” I had an empty roller, and I took a + turn over to him.' + </p> + <p> + “'"Chair, Admiral?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “'He looked at me sort of queer. + </p> + <p> + “'"What makes you think I'm an admiral, my man?” he answers. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I says, lounging over on one foot reflective like, “nobody could + be a-viewin' the sea with that lovin', ownership look unless he'd bossed + her a bit.... If I'm right, Admiral, you takes the chair.” + </p> + <p> + “'He laughed, but he got in. “I'm not an admiral,” he said, “but it is + true that I've followed the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “The hobo paused, and put up his first and second fingers spread like a V. + </p> + <p> + “'Two points, Governor—the gent had been a sailor and a soldier; now + how about the tanner business? + </p> + <p> + “He scratched his head, moving his ridiculous cap. + </p> + <p> + “'That sort of puzzled me, and I pussyfooted along toward the Inlet + thinkin' about it. If a man was a tanner, and especially a foreign, + hand-workin' tanner, what would his markin's be? + </p> + <p> + “'I tried to remember everybody that I'd ever seen handlin' a hide, and + all at once I recollected that the first thing a dago shoemaker done when + he picked up a piece of leather was to smooth it out with his thumbs. An' + I said to myself, now that'll be what a tanner does, only he does it + more.... he's always doin' it. Then I asks myself what would be the + markin's?' + </p> + <p> + “The hobo paused, his mouth open, his head twisted to one side. Then he + jerked up as under a released spring. + </p> + <p> + “'And right away, Governor, I got the answer to it flat thumbs!' + </p> + <p> + “The hobo stepped back with an air of victory and flashed his hand up. + </p> + <p> + “'And he had 'em! I asked him what time it was so I could keep the hour + straight for McDuyal, I told him, but the real reason was so I could see + his hands.'” + </p> + <p> + Walker crossed one leg over the other. + </p> + <p> + “It was clever,” he said, “and I hesitated to shatter it. But the question + had to come. + </p> + <p> + “'Where is your man?' I said. + </p> + <p> + “The hobo executed a little deprecatory step, with his fingers picking at + his coat pockets. + </p> + <p> + “'That's the trouble, Governor,' he answered; 'I intended to sleuth him + for you, but he gave me a dollar and I got drunk... you saw me. That man + had got out at McDuyal's place not five minutes before. I was flashin' to + the booze can when you tried to stop me.... Nothin' doin' when I get the + price.'” + </p> + <p> + Walker paused. + </p> + <p> + “It was a good fairy story and worth something. I offered him half a + dollar. Then I got a surprise. + </p> + <p> + “The creature looked eagerly at the coin in my fingers, and he moved + toward it. He was crazy for the liquor it would buy. But he set his teeth + and pulled up. + </p> + <p> + “'No, Governor,' he said, 'I'm in it for the sawbuck. Where'll I find you + about noon?' + </p> + <p> + “I promised to be on the Boardwalk before Heinz's Pier at two o'clock, and + he turned to shuffle away. I called an inquiry after him... You see there + were two things in his story: How did he get a dollar tip, and how did he + happen to make his imaginary man banker-looking? Mulehaus had been + banker-looking in both the Egypt and the Argentine affairs. I left the + latter point suspended, as we say. But I asked about the dollar. He came + back at once. + </p> + <p> + “'I forgot about that, Governor,' he said. 'It was like this: The admiral + kept looking out at the sea where an old freighter was going South. You + know, the fruit line from New York. One of them goes by every day or two. + And I kept pushing him along. Finally we got up to the Inlet, and I was + about to turn when he stopped me. You know the neck of ground out beyond + where the street cars loop; there's an old board fence by the road, then + sand to the sea, and about halfway between the fence and the water there's + a shed with some junk in it. You've seen it. They made the old America out + there and the shed was a tool house. + </p> + <p> + “'When I stopped the admiral says: “Cut across to the hole in that old + board fence and see if an automobile has been there, and I'll give you a + dollar.” An' I done it, an' I got it.' + </p> + <p> + “Then he shuffled off. + </p> + <p> + “'Be on the spot, Governor, an' I'll lead him to you.'” + </p> + <p> + Walker leaned over, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, and linked + his fingers together. + </p> + <p> + “That gave me a new flash on the creature. He was a slicker article than I + imagined. I was not to get off with a tip. He was taking some pains to + touch me for a greenback. I thought I saw his line. It would not account + for his hitting the description of Mulehaus in the make-up of his + straw-man, but it would furnish the data for the dollar story. I had drawn + the latter a little before he was ready. It belonged in what he planned to + give me at two o'clock. But I thought I saw what the creature was about. + And I was right.” + </p> + <p> + Walker put out his hand and moved the pages of his memoir on the table. + Then he went on: + </p> + <p> + “I was smoking a cigar on a bench at the entrance to Heinz's Pier when the + hobo shuffled up. He came down one of the streets from Pacific Avenue, and + the direction confirmed me in my theory. It also confirmed me in the + opinion that I was all kinds of a fool to let this dirty hobo get a + further chance at me. + </p> + <p> + “I was not in a very good humor. Everything I had set going after Mulehaus + was marking time. The only report was progress in linking things up; not + only along the Canadian and Mexican borders and the customhouses, but we + had also done a further unusual thing, we had an agent on every ship going + out of America to follow through to the foreign port and look out for + anything picked up on the way. + </p> + <p> + “It was a plan I had set at immediately the robbery was discovered. It + would cut out the trick of reshipping at sea from some fishing craft or + small boat. The reports were encouraging enough in that respect. We had + the whole country as tight as a drum. But it was slender comfort when the + Treasury was raising the devil for the plates and we hadn't a clew to + them.” + </p> + <p> + Walker stopped a moment. Then he went on: + </p> + <p> + “I felt like kicking the hobo when he got to me, he was so obviously the + extreme of all worthless creatures, with that apologetic, confidential + manner which seems to be an abominable attendant on human degeneracy. One + may put up with it for a little while, but it presently becomes + intolerable. + </p> + <p> + “'Governor,' he began, when he'd shuffled up, 'you won't git mad if I say + a little somethin'? + </p> + <p> + “'Go on and say it,' I said. + </p> + <p> + “The expression on his dirty unshaved face became, if possible, more + foolish. + </p> + <p> + “'Well, then, Governor, askin' your pardon, you ain't Mr. Henry P. + Johnson, from Erie; you're the Chief of the United States Secret Service, + from Washington.'” + </p> + <p> + Walker moved in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “That made me ugly,” he went on, “the assurance of the creature and my + unspeakable carelessness in permitting the official letters brought to me + on the day before by the post-office messenger to be seen. In my + relaxation I had forgotten the eye of the chair attendant. I took the + cigar out of my teeth and looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “'And I'll say a little something myself!' I could hardly keep my foot + clear of him. 'When you got sober this morning and remembered who I was, + you took a turn up round the post office to make sure of it, and while you + were in there you saw the notice of the reward for the stolen bond plates. + That gave you the notion with which you pieced out your fairy story about + how you got the dollar tip. Having discovered my identity through a piece + of damned carelessness on my part, and having seen the postal notice of + the reward, you undertook to enlarge your little game. That's the reason + you wouldn't take fifty cents. It was your notion in the beginning to make + a touch for a tip. And it would have worked. But now you can't get a + damned cent out of me.' Then I threw a little brush into him: 'I'd have + stood a touch for your finding the fake tanner, because there isn't any + such person.' + </p> + <p> + “I intended to put the hobo out of business,” Walker went on, “but the + effect of my words on him were even more startling than I anticipated. His + jaw dropped and he looked at me in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “'No such person!' he repeated. 'Why, Governor, before God, I found a man + like that, an' he was a banker—one of the big ones, sure as there's + a hell!'” + </p> + <p> + Walker put out his hands in a puzzled gesture. + </p> + <p> + “There it was again, the description of Mulehaus! And it puzzled me. Every + motion of this hobo's mind in every direction about this affair was + perfectly clear to me. I saw his intention in every turn of it and just + where he got the material for the details of his story. But this + absolutely distinguishing description of Mulehaus was beyond me. + Everybody, of course, knew that we were looking for the lost plates, for + there was the reward offered by the Treasury; but no human soul outside of + the trusted agents of the department knew that we were looking for + Mulehaus.” + </p> + <p> + Walker did not move, but he stopped in his recital for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “The tramp shuffled up a step closer to the bench where I sat. The anxiety + in his big slack face was sincere beyond question. + </p> + <p> + “'I can't find the banker man, Governor; he's skipped the coop. But I + believe I can find what he's hid.' + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' I said, 'go and find it.' + </p> + <p> + “The hobo jerked out his limp hands in a sort of hopeless gesture. + </p> + <p> + “'Now, Governor,' he whimpered, 'what good would it do me to find them + plates?' + </p> + <p> + “'You'd get five thousand dollars,' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'I'd git kicked into the discard by the first cop that got to me,' he + answered, 'that's what I'd git.' + </p> + <p> + “The creature's dirty, unshaved jowls began to shake, and his voice became + wholly a whimper. + </p> + <p> + “'I've got a line on this thing, Governor, sure as there's a hell. That + banker man was viewin' the layout. I've thought it all over, an' this is + the way it would be. They're afraid of the border an' they're afraid of + the customhouses, so they runs the loot down here in an automobile, hides + it up about the Inlet, and plans to go out with it to one of them fruit + steamers passing on the way to Tampico. They'd have them plates bundled up + in a sailor's chest most like. + </p> + <p> + “'Now, Governor, you'd say why ain't they already done it? An' I'd answer, + the main guy—this banker man—didn't know the automobile had + got here until he sent me to look, and there ain't been no ship along + since then.... I've been special careful to find that out.' And then the + creature began to whine. 'Have a heart, Governor, come along with me. + Gimme a show!' + </p> + <p> + “It was not the creature's plea that moved me, nor his pretended + deductions; I'm a bit old to be soft. It was the 'banker man' sticking + like a bur in the hobo's talk. I wanted to keep him in sight until I + understood where he got it. No doubt that seems a slight reason for going + out to the Inlet with the creature; but you must remember that slight + things are often big signboards in our business.” + </p> + <p> + He continued, his voice precise and even + </p> + <p> + “We went directly from the end of the Boardwalk to the old shed; it was + open, an unfastened door on a pair of leather hinges. The shed is small, + about twenty feet by eleven, with a hard dirt floor packed down by the + workmen who had used it; a combination of clay and sand like the Jersey + roads put in to make a floor. All round it, from the sea to the board + fence, was soft sand. There were some pieces of old junk lying about in + the shed; but nothing of value or it would have been nailed up. + </p> + <p> + “The hobo led right off with his deductions. There, was the track of a + man, clearly outlined in the soft sand, leading from the board fence to + the shed and returning, and no other track anywhere about. + </p> + <p> + “'Now, Governor,' he began, when he had taken a look at the tracks, 'the + man that made them tracks carried something into this shed, and he left it + here, and it was something heavy.' + </p> + <p> + “I was fairly certain that the hobo had salted the place for me, made the + tracks himself; but I played out a line to him. + </p> + <p> + “'How do you know that?' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'Well, Governor,' he answered, 'take a look at them two lines of tracks. + In the one comin' to the shed the man was walkin' with his feet apart and + in the one goin' back he was walkin' with his feet in front of one + another; that's because he was carryin' somethin' heavy when he come an' + nothin' when he left.' + </p> + <p> + “It was an observation on footprints,” he went on, “that had never + occurred to me. The hobo saw my awakened interest, and he added: + </p> + <p> + “'Did you never notice a man carryin' a heavy load? He kind of totters, + walkin' with his feet apart to keep his balance. That makes his foot + tracks side by side like, instead of one before the other as he makes them + when he's goin' light.”' + </p> + <p> + Walker interrupted his narrative with a comment: + </p> + <p> + “It's the truth. I've verified it a thousand times since that hobo put me + onto it. A line running through the center of the heel prints of a man + carrying a heavy burden will be a zigzag, while one through the heel + prints of the same man without the burden will be almost straight. + </p> + <p> + “The tramp went right on with his deductions: + </p> + <p> + “'If it come in and didn't go out, it's here.' + </p> + <p> + “And he began to go over the inside of the shed. He searched it like a man + searching a box for a jewel. He moved the pieces of old castings and he + literally fingered the shed from end to end. He would have found a bird's + egg. + </p> + <p> + “Finally he stopped and stood with his hand spread out over his mouth. And + I selected this critical moment to touch the powder off under his game. + </p> + <p> + “'Suppose,' I said, 'that this man with the heavy load wished to mislead + us; suppose that instead of bringing something here he took one of these + old castings away?' + </p> + <p> + “The hobo looked at me without changing his position. + </p> + <p> + “'How could he, Governor; he was pointin' this way with the load?' + </p> + <p> + “'By walking backward,' I said. For it occurred to me that perhaps the + creature had manufactured this evidence for the occasion, and I wished to + test the theory.” + </p> + <p> + Walker went on in his slow, even voice: + </p> + <p> + “The test produced more action than I expected. + </p> + <p> + “The hobo dived out through the door. I followed to see him disappear. But + it was not in flight; he was squatting down over the footprints. And a + moment later he rocked back on his haunches with a little exultant yelp. + </p> + <p> + “'Dope's wrong, Governor,' he said; 'he was sure comin' this way.' Then he + explained: 'If a man's walkin' forward in sand or mud or snow the toe of + his shoe flirts out a little of it, an' if he's walkin' backward his heel + flirts it out.' + </p> + <p> + “At this point I began to have some respect for the creature's ability. He + got up and came back into the shed. And there he stood, in his old + position, with his fingers over his mouth, looking round at the empty + shed, in which, as I have said, one could not have concealed a bird's egg. + </p> + <p> + “I watched him without offering any suggestion, for my interest in the + thing had awakened and I was curious to see what he would do. He stood + perfectly motionless for about a minute; and then suddenly he snapped his + fingers and the light came into his face. + </p> + <p> + “'I got it, Governor!' Then he came over to where I stood. 'Gimme a + quarter to git a bucket.' + </p> + <p> + “I gave him the coin, for I was now profoundly puzzled, and he went out. + He was gone perhaps twenty minutes, and when he came in he had a bucket of + water. But he had evidently been thinking on the way, for he set the + bucket down carefully, wiped his hands on his canvas breeches, and began + to speak, with a little apologetic whimper in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “'Now look here, Governor,' he said, 'I'm a-goin' to talk turkey; do I git + the five thousand if I find this stuff?' + </p> + <p> + “'Surely,' I answered him. + </p> + <p> + “'An' there'll be no monkeyin', Governor; you'll take me down to a bank + yourself an' put the money in my hand?' + </p> + <p> + “'I promise you that,' I assured him. + </p> + <p> + “But he was not entirely quiet in his mind about it. He shifted uneasily + from one foot to the other, and his soft rubber nose worked. + </p> + <p> + “'Now, Governor,' he said, 'I'm leery about jokers—I gotta be. I + don't want any string to this money. If I git it I want to go and blow it + in. I don't want you to hand me a roll an' then start any reformin' stunt—a-holdin' + of it in trust an' a probation officer a-pussyfootin' me, or any funny + business. I want the wad an' a clear road to the bright lights, with no + word passed along to pinch me. Do I git it?' + </p> + <p> + “'It's a trade!' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'O. K.,' he answered, and he took up the bucket. He began at the door and + poured the water carefully on the hard tramped earth. When the bucket was + empty he brought another and another. Finally about midway of the floor + space he stopped. + </p> + <p> + “'Here it is!' he said. + </p> + <p> + “I was following beside him, but I saw nothing to justify his words. + </p> + <p> + “'Why do you think the plates are buried here?' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'Look at the air bubbles comin' up, Governor,' he answered.” + </p> + <p> + Walker stopped, then he added: + </p> + <p> + “It's a thing which I did not know until that moment, but it's the truth. + If hard-packed earth is dug up and repacked air gets into it, and if one + pours water on the place air bubbles will come up.” + </p> + <p> + He did not go on, and I flung at him the big query in his story. + </p> + <p> + “And you found the plates there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Henry,” he replied, “in the false bottom of an old steamer + trunk.” + </p> + <p> + “And the hobo got the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he answered. “I put it into his hand, and let him go with it, + as I promised.” + </p> + <p> + Again he was silent, and I turned toward him in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” I said, “why did you begin this story by saying the hobo faked + you? I don't see the fake; he found the plates and he was entitled to the + reward.” + </p> + <p> + Walker put his hand into his pocket, took out a leather case, selected a + paper from among its contents and handed it to me. “I didn't see the fake + either,” he said, “until I got this letter.” + </p> + <p> + I unfolded the letter carefully. It was neatly written in a hand like + copper plate and dated Buenos Aires. + </p> + <p> + DEAR COLONEL WALKER: When I discovered that you were planting an agent on + every ship I had to abandon the plates and try for the reward. Thank you + for the five thousand; it covered expenses. + </p> + <p> + Very sincerely yours, + </p> + <p> + D. Mulehaus. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. The Lost Lady + </h2> + <p> + It was a remark of old Major Carrington that incited this adventure. + </p> + <p> + “It is some distance through the wood—is she quite safe?” + </p> + <p> + It was a mere reflection as he went out. It was very late. I do not know + how the dinner, or rather the after-hours of it, had lengthened. It must + have been the incomparable charm of the woman. She had come, this night, + luminously, it seemed to us, through the haze that had been on her—the + smoke haze of a strange, blighting fortune. The three of us had been + carried along in it with no sense of time; my sister, the ancient Major + Carrington and I. + </p> + <p> + He turned back in the road, his decayed voice whipped by the stimulus of + her into a higher note. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose the village coachman should think her as lovely as we do—what!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and turned heavily up the road a hundred yards or so to his + cottage set in the pine wood. I stood in the road watching the wheels of + the absurd village vehicle, the yellow cut-under, disappear. The old Major + called back to me; his voice seemed detached, eerie with the thin laugh in + it. + </p> + <p> + “I thought him a particularly villainous-looking creature!” + </p> + <p> + It was an absurd remark. The man was one of the natives of the island, and + besides, the innkeeper was a person of sound sense; he would know + precisely about his driver. + </p> + <p> + I should not have gone on this adventure but for a further incident. + </p> + <p> + When I entered the house my sister was going up the stair, the butler was + beyond in the drawing-room, and there was no other servant visible. She + was on the first step and the elevation gave precisely the height that my + sister ought to have received in the accident of birth. She would have + been wonderful with those four inches added—lacking beauty, she had + every other grace! + </p> + <p> + She spoke to me as I approached. + </p> + <p> + “Winthrop,” she said, “what was in the package that Madame Barras carried + away with her tonight?” + </p> + <p> + The query very greatly surprised me. I thought Madame Barras had carried + this package away with her several evenings before when I had put her + English bank-notes in my box at the local bank. My sister added the + explanation which I should have been embarrassed to seek, at the moment. + </p> + <p> + “She asked me to put it somewhere, on Tuesday afternoon.... It was + forgotten, I suppose.... I laid it in a drawer of the library table.... + What did it contain?” + </p> + <p> + I managed an evasive reply, for the discovery opened possibilities that + disturbed me. + </p> + <p> + “Some certificates, I believe,” I said. + </p> + <p> + My sister made a little pretended gesture of dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I should have been more careful; such things are of value.” + </p> + <p> + Of value indeed! The certificates in Madame Barras' package, that had lain + about on the library table, were gold certificates of the United States + Treasury—ninety odd of them, each of a value of one thousand + dollars! My sister went: + </p> + <p> + “How oddly life has tossed her about.... She must have been a mere infant + at Miss Page's. The attachment of incoming tots to the older girls was a + custom.... I do not recall her.... There was always a string of mites with + shiny pigtails and big-eyed wistful faces. The older girls never thought + very much about them. One has a swarm-memory, but individuals escape one. + The older girl, in these schools, fancied herself immensely. The little + satellite that attached itself, with its adoration, had no identity. It + had a nickname, I think, or a number.... I have forgotten. We minimized + these midges out of everything that could distinguish them.... Fancy one + of these turning up in Madame Barras and coming to me on the memory of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was extremely lucky for her,” I said. “Imagine arriving from the + interior of Brazil on the invitation of Mrs. Jordan to find that lady dead + and buried; with no friend, until, by chance, one happened on your name in + the social register, and ventured on a school attachment of which there + might remain, perhaps a memory only on the infant's side.” + </p> + <p> + My sister went on up the stair. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad we happened to be here, and, especially, Winthrop, if you have + been able to assist her.... She is charming.” + </p> + <p> + Charming was the word descriptive of my sister, for it is a thing of + manner from a nature elevated and noble, but it was not the word for + Madame Barras. The woman was a lure. I mean the term in its large and + catholic sense. I mean the bait of a great cosmic impulse—the most + subtle and the most persistent of which one has any sense. + </p> + <p> + The cunning intelligences of that impulse had decked her out with every + attractiveness as though they had taken thought to confound all masculine + resistance; to sweep into their service those refractory units that + withheld themselves from the common purpose. She was lovely, as the aged + Major Carrington had uttered it—great violet eyes in a delicate skin + sown with gold flecks, a skin so delicate that one felt that a kiss would + tear it! + </p> + <p> + I do not know from what source I have that expression but it attaches + itself, out of my memory of descriptive phrases, to Madame Barras. And it + extends itself as wholly descriptive of her. You will say that the long + and short of this is that I was in love with Madame Barras, but I point + you a witness in Major Carrington. + </p> + <p> + He had the same impressions, and he had but one passion in his life, a + distant worship of my sister that burned steadily even here at the end of + life. During the few evenings that Madame Barras had been in to dinner + with us, he sat in his chair beyond my sister in the drawing-room, perfect + in his early-Victorian manner, while Madame Barras and I walked on the + great terrace, or sat outside. + </p> + <p> + One had a magnificent sweep of the world, at night, from that terrace. It + looked out over the forest of pines to the open sea. + </p> + <p> + Madame Barras confessed to the pull of this vista. She asked me at what + direction the Atlantic entered, and when she knew, she kept it always in + her sight. + </p> + <p> + It had a persisting fascination for her. At all times and in nearly any + position, she was somehow sensible of this vista; she knew the lights + almost immediately, and the common small craft blinking about. To-night + she had sat for a long time in nearly utter silence here. There was a + faint light on the open sea as she got up to take her leave of us; what + would it be she wondered. + </p> + <p> + I replied that it was some small craft coming in. + </p> + <p> + “A fishing-boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Hardly that,” I said, “from its lights and position it will be some + swifter power-boat and, I should say, not precisely certain about the + channel.” + </p> + <p> + I have been drawn here into reminiscence that did not, at the time, detain + me in the hall. What my sister had discovered to me, following Major + Carrington's remark, left me distinctly uneasy. It was very nearly two + miles to the village, the road was wholly forest and there would be no + house on the way; for my father, with an utter disregard for cost, had + sought the seclusion of a large acreage when he had built this absurdly + elaborate villa on Mount Desert Island. + </p> + <p> + Besides I was in no mood for sleep. + </p> + <p> + And, over all probability, there might be some not entirely imaginary + danger to Madame Barras. Not precisely the danger presented in Major + Carrington's pleasantry, but the always possible danger to one who is + carrying a sum of money about. It would be considered, in the world of + criminal activities, a very large sum of money; and it had been lying + here, as of no value, in a drawer of the library table since the day on + which the gold certificates had arrived on my check from the Boston bank. + </p> + <p> + Madame Barras had not taken the currency away as I imagined. It was + extremely careless of her, but was it not an act in character? + </p> + <p> + What would such a woman know of practical concern? + </p> + <p> + I spoke to the butler. He should not wait up, I would let myself in; and I + went out. + </p> + <p> + I remember that I got a cap and a stick out of the rack; there was no + element of selection in the cap, but there was a decided subconscious + direction about the selection of the stick. It was a heavy blackthorn, + with an iron ferrule and a silver weight set in the head; picked up—by + my father at some Irish fair—a weapon in fact. + </p> + <p> + It was not dark. It was one of those clear hard nights that are not + uncommon on this island in midsummer; with a full moon, the road was + visible even in the wood. I swung along it with no particular precaution; + I was not expecting anything to happen, and in fact, nothing did happen on + the way into the village. + </p> + <p> + But in this attitude of confidence I failed to discover an event of this + night that might have given the whole adventure a different ending. + </p> + <p> + There is a point near the village where a road enters our private one; + skirts the border of the mountain, and, making a great turn, enters the + village from the south. At this division of the road I heard distinctly a + sound in the wood. + </p> + <p> + It was not a sound to incite inquiry. It was the sound of some + considerable animal moving in the leaves, a few steps beyond the road. It + did not impress me at the time; estrays were constantly at large in our + forests in summer, and not infrequently a roaming buck from the near + preserves. There was also here in addition to the other roads, an + abandoned winter wood-road that ran westward across the island to a small + farming settlement. Doubtless I took a slighter notice of the sound + because estrays from the farmers' fields usually trespassed on us from + this road. + </p> + <p> + At any rate I went on. I fear that I was very much engrossed with the + memory of Madame Barras. Not wholly with the feminine lure of her, + although as I have written she was the perfection of that lure. One passed + women, at all milestones, on the way to age, and kept before them one's + sound estimates of life, but before this woman one lost one's head, as + though Nature, evaded heretofore, would not be denied. But the weird + fortune that had attended her was in my mind. + </p> + <p> + Married to Senor Barras out of the door of a convent, carried to Rio de + Janeiro to an unbearable life, escaping with a remnant of her inheritance + in English bank-notes, she arrives here to visit the one, old, persisting + friend, Mrs. Jordan, and finds her dead! And what seemed strange, + incredible beyond belief, was that this creature Barras had thought only + of her fortune which he had depleted in two years to the something less + than twenty thousand pounds which I had exchanged for her into our money; + a mere fragment of her great inheritance. + </p> + <p> + I had listened to the story entranced with the alluring teller of it; + wondering as I now wondered, on the road to the village, how anything + pretending to be man could think of money when she was before his eye. + </p> + <p> + What could he buy with money that equaled her! And yet this curious jackal + had seen in her only the key to a strong-box. There was behind it, in + explanation, shadowed out, the glamor of an empire that Senor Barras would + set up with the millions in his country of revolutions, and the + enthusiasms of a foolish mother. + </p> + <p> + And yet the jackal and this wreckage had not touched her. There was no + stain, no crumpled leaf. She was a fresh wonder, even after this, out of a + chrysalis. It was this amazing newness, this virginity of blossom from + which one could not escape. + </p> + <p> + The word in my reflection brought me up. How had she escaped from Barras? + </p> + <p> + I had more than once in my reflections pivoted on the word. + </p> + <p> + The great hotel was very nearly deserted when I entered. + </p> + <p> + There was the glow of a cigar where some one smoked, at the end of the + long porch. Within, there was only a sleepy clerk. + </p> + <p> + Madame Barras had not arrived... he was quite sure; she had gone out to + dinner somewhere and had not come in! + </p> + <p> + I was profoundly concerned. But I took a moment to reflect before deciding + what to do. + </p> + <p> + I stepped outside and there, coming up from the shadow of the porch, I met + Sir Henry Marquis. + </p> + <p> + It was chance at its extreme of favor. If I had been given the selection, + in all the world, I should have asked for Sir Henry Marquis at that + decisive moment. + </p> + <p> + The relief I felt made my words extravagant. + </p> + <p> + “Marquis!” I cried. “You here!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Winthrop,” he said, in his drawling Oxford voice, “what have you done + with Madame Barras; I was waiting for her?” + </p> + <p> + I told him, in a word, how she had set out from my house—my concern—the + walk down here and this result. I did not ask him at the moment how he + happened to be here, or with a knowledge of our guest. I thought that + Marquis was in Canada. But one does not, with success, inquire of a C.I.D. + official even in his own country. One met him in the most unexpected + places, unconcerned, and one would have said at leisure. + </p> + <p> + But he was concerned to-night. What I told brought him up. He stood for a + moment silent. Then he said, softly, in order drat the clerk behind us + might not overhear. + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak of it. I will get a light and go with you!” + </p> + <p> + He returned in a moment and we went out. He asked me about the road, was + there only one way down; and I told him precisely. There was only the one + road into the village and no way to miss it unless one turned into the + public road at the point where it entered our private one along the + mountain. + </p> + <p> + He pitched at once upon this point and we hurried back. + </p> + <p> + We had hardly a further word on the way. I was decidedly uneasy about + Madame Barras by now, and Marquis' concern was hardly less evident. He + raced along in his immense stride, and I had all I could manage to keep + up. + </p> + <p> + It may seem strange that I should have brought such a man as Sir Henry + Marquis into the search of this adventure with so little explanation of my + guest or the affair. But, one must remember, Marquis was an old + acquaintance frequently seen about in the world. To thus, on the spot so + to speak, draft into my service the first gentleman I found, was precisely + what any one would have done. It was probable, after all, that there had + been some reason why the cut-under had taken the other road, and Madame + Barras was quite all right. + </p> + <p> + It was better to make sure before one raised the village—and + Marquis, markedly, was beyond any aid the village could have furnished. + This course was strikingly justified by every after-event. + </p> + <p> + I have said that the night was not dark. The sky was hard with stars, like + a mosaic. This white moonlight entered through the tree-tops and in a + measure illumined the road. We were easily able to see, when we reached + the point, that the cut-under had turned out into the road circling the + mountain to the west of the village. The track was so clearly visible in + the light, that I must have observed it had I been thinking of the road + instead of the one who had set out upon it. + </p> + <p> + I was going on quickly, when Marquis stopped. He was stooping over the + track of the vehicle. He did not come on and I went back. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” I said. + </p> + <p> + He answered, still stooping above the track. + </p> + <p> + “The cut-under stopped here.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” I asked, for it seemed hardly possible to + determine where a wheeled vehicle had stopped. + </p> + <p> + “It's quite clear,” he replied. “The horse has moved about without going + on.” + </p> + <p> + I now saw it. The hoof-marks of the horse had displaced the dust where it + had several times changed position. + </p> + <p> + “And that's not all,” Marquis continued. “Something has happened to the + cut-under here!” + </p> + <p> + I was now closely beside him. + </p> + <p> + “It was broken down, perhaps, or some accident to the harness?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied. “The wheel tracks are here broadened, as though they had + skidded on a turn. This would mean little if the cut-under had been moving + at the time. But it was not moving; the horse was standing. The cut-under + had stopped.” + </p> + <p> + He went on as though in a reflection to himself. + </p> + <p> + “The vehicle must have been violently thrown about here, by something.” + </p> + <p> + I had a sudden inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “I see it!” I cried. “The horse took fright, stopped, and then bolted; + there has been a run-away. That accounts for the turn out. Let's hurry!” + </p> + <p> + But Marquis detained me with a firm hand on my arm. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “the horse was not running when it turned out and it did + not stop here in fright. The horse was entirely quiet here. The hoof marks + would show any alarm in the animal, and, moreover, if it had stopped in + fright there would have been an inevitable recoil which would have thrown + the wheels of the vehicle backward out of their track. No moving animal, + man included, stopped by fright fails to register this recoil. We always + look for it in evidences of violent assault. Footprints invariably show + it, and one learns thereby, unerringly, the direction of the attack.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, his hand still extended and upon my arm. + </p> + <p> + “There is only one possible explanation,” he added. “Something happened in + the cut-under to throw it violently about in the road, and it happened + with the horse undisturbed and the vehicle standing still. The wheel + tracks are widened only at one point, showing a transverse but no lateral + movement of the vehicle.” + </p> + <p> + “A struggle?” I cried. “Major Carrington was right, Madame Barras has been + attacked by the driver!” + </p> + <p> + Marquis' hand held me firmly in the excitement of that realization. He was + entirely composed. There was even a drawl in his voice as he answered me. + </p> + <p> + “Major Carrington, whoever he may be,” he said, “is wrong; if we exclude a + third party, it was Madame Barras who attacked the driver.” + </p> + <p> + His fingers tightened under my obvious protest. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite certain,” he continued. “Taking the position of the standing + horse, it will be the front wheels of the cut-under that have made, this + widened track; the wheels under the driver's seat, and not the wheels + under the guest seat, in the rear of the vehicle. There has been a violent + struggle in this cut-under, but it was a struggle that took place wholly + in the front of the vehicle.” + </p> + <p> + He went on in his maddeningly imperturbable calm. + </p> + <p> + “No one attacked our guest, but some one, here at this precise point, did + attack the driver of this vehicle.” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake,” I cried, “let's hurry!” + </p> + <p> + He stepped back slowly to the edge of the road and the drawl in his voice + lengthened. + </p> + <p> + “We do hurry,” he said. “We hurry to the value of knowing that there was + no accident here to the harness, no fright to the horse, no attack on the + lady, and no change in the direction which the vehicle afterwards took. + Suppose we had gone on, in a different form of hurry, ignorant of these + facts?” + </p> + <p> + At this point I distinctly heard again the sound of a heavy animal in the + wood. Marquis also heard it and he plunged into the thick bushes. Almost + immediately we were at the spot, and before us some heavy object turned in + the leaves. + </p> + <p> + Marquis whipped an electric-flash out of his pocket. The body of a man, + tied at the hands and heels behind with a hitching-strap, and with a linen + carriage lap-cloth wound around his head and knotted, lay there + endeavoring to ease the rigor of his position by some movement. + </p> + <p> + We should now know, in a moment, what desperate thing had happened! + </p> + <p> + I cut the strap, while Marquis got the lap-cloth unwound from about the + man's head. It was the driver of the cut-under. But we got no gain from + his discovery. As soon as his face was clear, he tore out of our grasp and + began to run. + </p> + <p> + He took the old road to the westward of the island, where perhaps he + lived. We were wholly unable to stop him, and we got no reply to our + shouted queries except his wild cry for help. He considered us his + assailants from whom, by chance, he had escaped. It was folly to think of + coming up with the man. He was set desperately for the westward of the + island, and he would never stop until he reached it. + </p> + <p> + We turned back into the road: + </p> + <p> + Marquis' method now changed. He turned swiftly into the road along the + mountain which the cut-under had taken after its capture. + </p> + <p> + I was at the extreme of a deadly anxiety about Madame Barras. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me, now, certain that some gang of criminals having knowledge + of the packet of money had waylaid the cut-under. Proud of my conclusion, + I put the inquiry to Sir Henry as we hurried along. If we weren't too + late! + </p> + <p> + He stopped suddenly like a man brought up at the point of a bayonet. + </p> + <p> + “My word!” He jerked the expression out through his tightened jaws. “Has + she got ninety thousand dollars of your money!” And he set out again in + his long stride. I explained briefly as I endeavored to keep his pace. It + was her own money, not mine, but she did in fact have that large sum with + her in the cut-under on this night. I gave him the story of the matter, + briefly, for I had no breath to spare over it. And I asked him what he + thought. Had a gang of thieves attacked the cut-under? + </p> + <p> + But he only repeated his expression. + </p> + <p> + “My word!... You got her ninety thousand dollars and let her drive away + with no eye on her!.... Such trust in the honesty of our fellow + creatures!... My word!” + </p> + <p> + I had to admit the deplorable negligence, but I had not thought of any + peril, and I did not know that she carried the money with her until the + conversation with my sister. There was some excuse for me. I could not + remember a robbery on this island. + </p> + <p> + Marquis snapped his jaws. + </p> + <p> + “You'll remember this one!” he said. + </p> + <p> + It was a ridiculous remark. How could one ever forget if this incomparable + creature were robbed and perhaps murdered. But were there not some + extenuating circumstances in my favor. I presented them as we advanced; my + sister and I lived in a rather protected atmosphere apart from all + criminal activities, we could not foresee such a result. I had no + knowledge of criminal methods. + </p> + <p> + “I can well believe it,” was the only reply Marquis returned to me. + </p> + <p> + In addition to my extreme anxiety about Madame Barras I began now to + realize a profound sense of responsibility; every one, it seemed, saw what + I ought to have done, except myself. How had I managed to overlook it? It + was clear to other men. Major Carrington had pointed it out to me as I was + turning away; and now here Sir Henry Marquis was expressing in no + uncertain words how negligent a creature he considered me—to permit + my guest, a woman, to go alone, at night, with this large sum of money. + </p> + <p> + It was not a pleasant retrospect. Other men—the world—would + scarcely hold me to a lesser negligence than Sir Henry Marquis! + </p> + <p> + I could not forbear, even in our haste, to seek some consolation. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think Madame Barras has been hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt!” he repeated. “How should Madame Barras be hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “In the robbery,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Robbery!” and he repeated that word. “There has been no robbery!” + </p> + <p> + I replied in some astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Really, Sir Henry! You but now assured me that I would remember this + night's robbery.” + </p> + <p> + The drawl got back into his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” he said, “quite so. You will remember it.” + </p> + <p> + The man was clearly, it seemed to me, so engrossed with the mystery that + it was idle to interrogate him. And he was walking with a devil's stride. + </p> + <p> + Still the pointed query of the affair pressed me, and I made another + effort. + </p> + <p> + “Why did these assailants take Madame Barras on with them?” + </p> + <p> + Marquis regarded me, I thought, with wonder. + </p> + <p> + “The devil, man!” he said. “They couldn't leave her behind.” + </p> + <p> + “The danger would be too great to them?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “the danger would be too great to her.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment an object before us in the road diverted our attention. It + was the cut-under and the horse. They were standing by the roadside where + it makes a great turn to enter the village from the south. There is a wide + border to the road at this point, clear of underbrush, where the forest + edges it, and there are here, at the whim of some one, or by chance, two + great flat stones, one lying upon the other, but not fitting by a hand's + thickness by reason of the uneven surfaces. + </p> + <p> + What had now happened was evident. The assailants of the cut-under had + abandoned it here before entering the village. They could not, of course, + go on with this incriminating vehicle. + </p> + <p> + The sight of the cut-under here had on Marquis the usual effect of any + important evidential sign. He at once ceased to hurry. He pulled up; + looked over the cut-under and the horse, and began to saunter about. + </p> + <p> + This careless manner was difficult for me at such a time. But for his + assurance that Madame Barras, was uninjured it would have been impossible. + I had a blind confidence in the man although his expressions were so + absurdly in conflict. + </p> + <p> + I started to go on toward the village, but as he did not follow I turned + back. Marquis was sitting on the flat stones with a cigarette in his + fingers: + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, man,” I cried, “you're not stopping to smoke a cigarette?” + </p> + <p> + “Not this cigarette, at any rate,” he replied. “Madame Barras has already + smoked it.... I can, perhaps, find you the burnt match.” + </p> + <p> + He got the electric-flash out of his pocket, and stooped over. Immediately + he made an exclamation of surprise. + </p> + <p> + I leaned down beside him. + </p> + <p> + There was a little heap of charred paper on the brown bed of pine-needles. + Marquis was about to take up this charred paper when his eye caught + something thrust in between the two stones. It was a handful of torn bits + of paper. + </p> + <p> + Marquis got them out and laid them on the top of the flat stones under his + light. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” he said, “Madame Barras, while she smoked, got rid of some money.” + </p> + <p> + “The package of gold certificates!” I cried. “She has burned them?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “Madame Barras has favored your Treasury in her + destructive process. These are five-pound notes, of the Bank of England.” + </p> + <p> + I was astonished and I expressed it. + </p> + <p> + “But why should Madame Barras destroy notes of the Bank of England?” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine,” he answered, “that they were some which she had, by chance, + failed to give you for exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should she destroy them?” I went on. + </p> + <p> + “I conclude,” he drawled, “that she was not wholly certain that she would + escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Escape!” I cried. “You have been assuring me all along that Madame Barras + is making no effort to escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” he replied, “she is making every effort.” + </p> + <p> + I was annoyed and puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “What is it,” I said, “precisely, that Madame Barras did here; can you + tell me in plain words?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” he replied, “she sat here while something was decided, and while + she sat here she smoked the cigarette, and while she smoked the cigarette, + she destroyed the money. But,” he added, “before she had quite finished, a + decision was made and she hastily thrust the remaining bits of the torn + notes into the crevice between these stones.” + </p> + <p> + “What decision?” I said. + </p> + <p> + Marquis gathered up the bits of torn paper and put them into his pocket + with the switched-off flash. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I knew that,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Knew what?” + </p> + <p> + “Which path they have taken,” he replied; “there seem to be two branching + from this point, but they pass over a bed of pine-needles and that retains + no impression.... Where do these paths lead?” + </p> + <p> + I did not know that any paths came into the road at this point. But the + island is veined over with old paths. The lead of paths here, however, was + fairly evident. + </p> + <p> + “They must come out somewhere on the sea,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Right,” he cried. “Take either, and let's be off... Madame's cigarette + was not quite cold when I picked it up.” + </p> + <p> + I was right about the direction of the paths but, as it happened, the one + Marquis took was nearly double the distance of the other to the sea; and I + have wondered always, if it was chance that selected the one taken by the + assailants of the cut-under as it was chance that selected the one taken + by us. + </p> + <p> + Marquis was instantly gone, and I hurried along the path, running nearly + due east. There was light enough entering from the brilliant moon through + the tree-tops to make out the abandoned trail. + </p> + <p> + And as I hurried, Marquis' contradicting expressions seemed to adjust + themselves into a sort of order, and all at once I understood what had + happened. The Brazilian adventurer had not taken the loss of his wife and + the fortune in English pounds sterling, lying down. He had followed to + recover them. + </p> + <p> + I now saw clearly the reason for everything that had happened: the attack + on the driver, and my guest's concern to get rid of the English money + which she discovered remaining in her possession; this man would have no + knowledge of her gold certificates but he would be searching for his + English pounds. And if she came clear of any trace of these five-pound + notes, she might disclaim all knowledge of them and perhaps send him + elsewhere on his search, since it was always the money and not the woman + that he sought. + </p> + <p> + This explanation was hardly realized before it was confirmed. + </p> + <p> + I came out abruptly onto a slope of bracken, and before me at a few paces + on the path were Madame Barras and two men; one at some distance in + advance of her, disappearing at the moment behind a spur of the slope that + hid us from the sea, and I got no conception of him; but the creature at + her heels was a huge foreign beast of a man, in the dress of a common + sailor. + </p> + <p> + What happened was over in a moment. + </p> + <p> + I was nearly on the man when I turned out of the wood, and with a shout to + Madame Barras I struck at him with the heavy walking-stick. But the + creature was not to be taken unaware; he darted to one side, wrenched the + stick out of my hand, and dashed its heavy-weighted head into my face. I + went down in the bracken, but I carried with me into unconsciousness a + vision of Madame Barras that no shadow of the lengthening years can blur. + </p> + <p> + She had swung round sharply at the attack behind her, and she stood + bare-haired and bare-shouldered, knee-deep in the golden bracken, with the + glory of the moon on her; her arms hanging, her lips parted, her great + eyes wide with terror—as lovely in her desperate extremity as a + dream, as, a painted picture. I don't know how long I was down there, but + when I finally got up, and, following along the path behind the spur of + rock, came out onto the open sea, I found Sir Henry Marquis. He was + standing with his hands in the pockets of his loose tweed coat, and he was + cursing softly: + </p> + <p> + “The ferry and the mainland are patroled... I didn't think of their having + an ocean-going yacht....” + </p> + <p> + A gleam of light was disappearing into the open sea. + </p> + <p> + He put his hand into his pocket and took out the scraps of torn paper. + </p> + <p> + “These notes,” he said, “like the ones which you hold in your bank-vault, + were never issued by the Bank of England.” + </p> + <p> + I stammered some incoherent sentence; and the great chief of the Criminal + Investigation Department of Scotland Yard turned toward me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who that woman is?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” I cried, “she went to school with my sister at Miss Page's; she + came to visit Mrs. Jordan....” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me steadily. + </p> + <p> + “She got the data about your sister out of the Back Bay biographies and + she used the accident of Mrs. Jordan's death to get in with it... the rest + was all fiction.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame Barras?” I stuttered. “You mean Madame Barras?” + </p> + <p> + “Madame the Devil,” he said. “That's Sunny Suzanne. Used to be in the + Hungarian Follies until the Soviet government of Austria picked her up to + place the imitation English money that its presses were striking off in + Vienna.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. The Cambered Foot + </h2> + <p> + I shall not pretend that I knew the man in America or that he was a friend + of my family or that some one had written to me about him. The plain truth + is that I never laid eyes on him until Sir Henry Marquis pointed him out + to me the day after I went down from here to London. It was in Piccadilly + Circus. + </p> + <p> + “There's your American,” said Sir Henry. + </p> + <p> + The girl paused for a few moments. There was profound silence. + </p> + <p> + “And that isn't all of it. Nobody presented him to me. I deliberately + picked him up!” + </p> + <p> + Three persons were in the drawing-room. An old woman with high cheekbones, + a bowed nose and a firm, thin-lipped mouth was the central figure. She sat + very straight in her chair, her head up and her hands in her lap. An aged + man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, stood at a window + looking out, his hands behind his back, his chin lifted as though he were + endeavoring to see something far away over the English country—something + beyond the little groups of Highland cattle and the great oak trees. + </p> + <p> + Beside the old woman, on a dark wood frame, there was a fire screen made + of the pennant of a Highland regiment. Beyond her was a table with a glass + top. Under this cover, in a sort of drawer lined with purple velvet, there + were medals, trophies and decorations visible below the sheet of glass. + And on the table, in a heavy metal frame, was the portrait of a young man + in the uniform of a captain of Highland infantry. + </p> + <p> + The girl who had been speaking sat in a big armchair by this table. One + knew instantly that she was an American. The liberty of manner, the + independence of expression, could not be mistaken in a country of + established forms. She had abundant brown hair skillfully arranged under a + smart French hat. Her eyes were blue; not the blue of any painted color; + it was the blue of remote spaces in the tropic sky. + </p> + <p> + The old woman spoke without looking at the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, “it's all quite as”—she hesitated for a word—“extraordinary + as we have been led to believe.” + </p> + <p> + There was the slow accent of Southern blood in the girl's voice as she + went on. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Mary,” she said, “it's all far more extraordinary than you have been + led to believe—than any one could ever have led you to believe. I + deliberately picked the man up. I waited for him outside the Savoy, and + pretended to be uncertain about an address. He volunteered to take me in + his motor and I went with him. I told him I was alone in London, at the + Ritz. It was Blackwell's bank I pretended to be looking for. Then we had + tea.” + </p> + <p> + The girl paused. + </p> + <p> + Presently she continued: “That's how it began: You're mistaken to imagine + that Sir Henry Marquis presented me to this American. It was the other way + about; I presented Sir Henry. I had the run of the Ritz,” she went on. “We + all do if we scatter money. Sir Henry came in to tea the next afternoon. + That's how he met Mr. Meadows. And that's the only place he ever did meet + him. Mr. Meadows came every day, and Sir Henry formed the habit of + dropping in. We got to be a very friendly party.” + </p> + <p> + The motionless old woman, a figure in plaster until now, kneaded her + fingers as under some moving pressure. “At this time,” she said, “you were + engaged to Tony and expected to be his wife!” + </p> + <p> + The girl's voice did not change. It was slow and even. “Yes,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Tony, of course, knew nothing about this?” + </p> + <p> + “He knows nothing whatever about it unless you have written him.” + </p> + <p> + Again the old woman moved slightly. “I have waited,” she said, “for the + benefit of your explanation. It seems as—as bad as I feared.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Mary,” said the girl in her slow voice, “it's worse than you feared. + I don't undertake to smooth it over. Everything that you have heard is + quite true. I did go out with the man in his motor, in the evening. + Sometimes it was quite dark before we returned. Mr. Meadows preferred to + drive at night because he was not accustomed to the English rule of taking + the left on the road, when one always takes the right in America. He was + afraid he couldn't remember the rule, so it was safer at night and there + was less traffic. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not try to make the thing appear better than it was. We sometimes + took long runs. Mr. Meadows liked the high roads along the east coast, + where one got a view of the sea and the cold salt air. We ran prodigious + distances. He had the finest motor in England, the very latest American + model. I didn't think so much about night coming on, the lights on the car + were so wonderful. Mr. Meadows was an amazing driver. We made + express-train time. The roads were usually clear at night and the motor + was a perfect wonder. The only trouble we ever had was with the lights. + Sometimes one, of them would go out. I think it was bad wiring. But there + was always the sweep of the sea under the stars to look at while Mr. + Meadows got the thing adjusted.” + </p> + <p> + This long, detailed, shameless speech affected the aged soldier at the + window. It seemed to him immodest bravado. And he suffered in his heart, + as a man old and full of memories can suffer for the damaged honor of a + son he loves. + </p> + <p> + Continuing, the girl said: “Of course it isn't true that we spent the + nights touring the east coast of England in a racer. It was dark sometimes + when we got in—occasionally after trouble with the lights—quite + dark. We did go thundering distances.” + </p> + <p> + “With this person, alone?” The old woman spoke slowly, like one delicately + probing at a wound. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the girl admitted. “You see, the car was a roadster; only two could + go; and, besides, there was no one else. Mr. Meadows said he was alone in + London, and of course I was alone. When Sir Henry asked me to go down from + here I went straight off to the Ritz.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman made a slight, shivering gesture. “You should have gone to + my sister in Grosvenor Square. Monte would have put you up—and + looked after you.” + </p> + <p> + “The Ritz put me up very well,” the girl continued. “And I am accustomed + to looking after myself. Sir Henry thought it was quite all right.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman spoke suddenly with energy and directness. “I don't + understand Henry in the least,” she said. “I was quite willing for you to + go to London when he asked me for permission. But I thought he would take + you to Monte's, and certainly I had the right to believe that he would not + have lent himself to—to this escapade.” + </p> + <p> + “He seemed to be very nice about it,” the girl went on. “He came in to tea + with us—Mr. Meadows and me—almost every evening. And he always + had something amusing to relate, some blunder of Scotland Yard or some + ripping mystery. I think he found it immense fun to be Chief of the + Criminal Investigation Department. I loved the talk: Mr. Meadows was + always interested and Sir Henry likes people to be interested.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman continued to regard the girl as one hesitatingly touches an + exquisite creature frightfully mangled. + </p> + <p> + “This person—was he a gentleman?” she inquired. The girl answered + immediately. “I thought about that a good deal,” she said. “He had perfect + manners, quite Continental manners; but, as you say over here, Americans + are so imitative one never can tell. He was not young—near fifty, I + would say; very well dressed. He was from St. Paul; a London agent for + some flouring mills in the Northwest. I don't know precisely. He explained + it all to Sir Henry. I think he would have been glad of a little influence—some + way to meet the purchasing agents for the government. He seemed to have + the American notion that he could come to London and go ahead without + knowing anybody. Anyway, he was immensely interesting—and he had a + ripping motor.” + </p> + <p> + The old man at the window did not move. He remained looking out over the + English country with his big, veined hands clasped behind his back. He had + left this interview to Lady Mary, as he had left most of the crucial + affairs of life to her dominant nature. But the thing touched him far + deeper than it touched the aged dowager. He had a man's faith in the + fidelity of a loved woman. + </p> + <p> + He knew how his son, somewhere in France, trusted this girl, believed in + her, as long ago in a like youth he had believed in another. He knew also + how the charm of the girl was in the young soldier's blood, and how potent + were these inscrutable mysteries. Every man who loved a woman wished to + believe that she came to him out of the garden of a convent—out of a + roc's egg, like the princess in the Arabian story. + </p> + <p> + All these things he had experienced in himself, in a shattered romance, in + a disillusioned youth, when he was young like the lad somewhere in France. + Lady Mary would see only broken conventions; but he saw immortal things, + infinitely beyond conventions, awfully broken. He did not move. He + remained like a painted picture. + </p> + <p> + The girl went on in her soft, slow voice. “You would have disliked Mr. + Meadows, Lady Mary,” she said. “You would dislike any American who came + without letters and could not be precisely placed.” The girl's voice grew + suddenly firmer. “I don't mean to make it appear better,” she said. “The + worst would be nearer the truth. He was just an unknown American bagman, + with a motor car, and a lot of time on his hands—and I picked him + up. But Sir Henry Marquis took a fancy to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand Henry,” the old woman repeated. “It's extraordinary.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't seem extraordinary to me,” said the girl. “Mr. Meadows was + immensely clever, and Sir Henry was like a man with a new toy. The Home + Secretary had just put him in as Chief of the Criminal Investigation + Department. He was full of a lot of new ideas—dactyloscopic bureaus, + photographie mitrique, and scientific methods of crime detection. He + talked about it all the time. I didn't understand half the talk. But Mr. + Meadows was very clever. Sir Henry said he was a charming person. Anybody + who could discuss the whorls of the Galton finger-print tests was just + then a charming person to Sir Henry.” + </p> + <p> + The girl paused a moment, then she went on + </p> + <p> + “I suppose things had gone so for about a fortnight when your sister, Lady + Monteith, wrote that she had seen Sir Henry with us—Mr. Meadows and + me—in the motor. I have to shatter a pleasant fancy about that + chaperonage! That was the only time Sir Henry was ever with us. + </p> + <p> + “It came about like this: It was Thursday morning about nine o'clock, I + think, when Sir Henry, popped in at the Ritz. He was full of some amazing + mystery that had turned up at Benton Court, a country house belonging to + the Duke of Dorset, up the Thames beyond Richmond. He wanted to go there + at once. He was fuming because an under secretary had his motor, and he + couldn't catch up with him. + </p> + <p> + “I told him he could have 'our' motor. He laughed. And I telephoned Mr. + Meadows to come over and take him up. Sir Henry asked me to go along. So + that's how Lady Monteith happened to see the three of us crowded into the + seat of the big roadster.” + </p> + <p> + The girl went on in her deliberate, even voice + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry was boiling full of the mystery. He got us all excited by the + time we arrived at Benton Court. I think Mr. Meadows was as keen about the + thing as Sir Henry. They were both immensely worked up. It was an amazing + thing!” + </p> + <p> + “You see, Benton Court is a little house of the Georgian period. It has + been closed up for ages, and now, all at once, the most mysterious things + began to happen in it. + </p> + <p> + “A local inspector, a very reliable man named Millson, passing that way on + his bicycle, saw a man lying on the doorstep. He also saw some one running + away. It was early in the morning, just before daybreak. + </p> + <p> + “Millson saw only the man's back, but he could distinguish the color of + his clothes. He was wearing a blue coat and reddish-brown trousers. + Millson said he could hardly make out the blue coat in the darkness, but + he could distinctly see the reddish brown color of the man's trousers. He + was very positive about this. Mr. Meadows and Sir Henry pressed him pretty + hard, but he was firm about it. He could make out that the coat was blue, + and he could see very distinctly that the trousers were reddish-brown. + </p> + <p> + “But the extraordinary thing came a little later. Millson hurried to a + telephone to get Scotland Yard, then he returned to Benton Court; but when + he got back the dead man had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “He insists that he was not away beyond five minutes, but within that time + the dead man had vanished. Millson could find no trace of him. That's the + mystery that sent us tearing up there with Mr. Meadows and Sir Henry + transformed into eager sleuths. + </p> + <p> + “We found the approaches to the house under a patrol from Scotland Yard. + But nobody had gone in. The inspector was waiting for Sir Henry.” + </p> + <p> + The old man stood like an image, and the aged woman sat in her chair like + a figure in basalt. + </p> + <p> + But the girl ran on with a sort of eager unconcern: “Sir Henry and Mr. + Meadows took the whole thing in charge. The door had been broken open. + They examined the marks about the fractures very carefully; then they went + inside. There were some naked footprints. They were small, as of a little, + cramped foot, and they seemed to be tracked in blood on the hard oak + floor. There was a wax candle partly burned on the table. And that's all + there was. + </p> + <p> + “There were some tracks in the dust of the floor, but they were not very + clearly outlined, and Sir Henry thought nothing could be made of them. + </p> + <p> + “It was awfully exciting. I went about behind the two men. Sir Henry + talked all the time. Mr. Meadows was quite as much interested, but he + didn't say anything. He seemed to say less as the thing went on. + </p> + <p> + “They went over everything—the ground outside and every inch of the + house. Then they put everybody out and sat down by a table in the room + where the footprints were. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry had been awfully careful. He had a big lens with which to + examine the marks of the bloody footprints. He was like a man on the trail + of a buried treasure. He shouted over everything, thrust his glass into + Mr. Meadows' hand and bade him verify what he had seen. His ardor was + infectious. I caught it myself. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meadows, in his quiet manner, was just as much concerned in + unraveling the thing as Sir Henry. I never had so wild a time in all my + life. Finally, when Sir Henry put everybody else out and closed the door, + and the three of us sat down at the table to try to untangle the thing, I + very nearly screamed with excitement. Mr. Meadows sat with his arms + folded, not saying a word; but Sir Henry went ahead with his explanation.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked like a vivid portrait, the soft colors of her gown and all + the cool, vivid extravagancies of youth distinguished in her. Her words + indicated fervor and excited energy; but they were not evidenced in her + face or manner. She was cool and lovely. One would have thought that she + recounted the inanities of a curate's tea party. + </p> + <p> + The aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, remained in his + position at the window. The old woman sat with her implacable face, + unchanging like a thing insensible and inorganic. + </p> + <p> + This unsympathetic aspect about the girl did not seem to disturb her. She + went on: + </p> + <p> + “The thing was thrilling. It was better than any theater—the three + of us at the old mahogany table in the room, and the Scotland Yard patrol + outside. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry was bubbling over with his theory. 'I read this riddle like a + printed page,' he said. 'It will be the work of a little band of expert + cracksmen that the Continent has kindly sent us. We have had some samples + of their work in Brompton Road. They are professional crooks of a high + order—very clever at breaking in a door, and, like all the criminal + groups that we get without an invitation from over the Channel, these + crooks have absolutely no regard for human life.' + </p> + <p> + “That's the way Sir Henry led off with his explanation. Of course he had + all that Scotland Yard knew about criminal groups to start him right. It + was a good deal to have the identity of the criminal agents selected out; + but I didn't see how he was going to manage to explain the mystery from + the evidence. I was wild to hear him. Mr. Meadows was quite as interested, + I thought, although he didn't say a word. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry nodded, as though he took the American's confirmation as a + thing that followed. 'We are at the scene,' he said, 'of one of the most + treacherous acts of all criminal drama. I mean the “doing in,” as our + criminals call it, of the unprofessional accomplice. It's a regulation + piece of business with the hard-and-fast criminal organizations of the + Continent, like the Nervi of Marseilles, or the Lecca of Paris. + </p> + <p> + “'They take in a house servant, a shopkeeper's watchman, or a bank guard + to help them in some big haul. Then they lure him into some abandoned + house, under a pretense of dividing up the booty, and there put him out of + the way. That's what's happened here. It's a common plan with these + criminal groups, and clever of them. The picked-up accomplice would be + sure to let the thing out. For safety the professionals must “do him in” + at once, straight away after the big job, as a part of what the barrister + chaps call the res gestae.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry went on nodding at us and drumming the palm of his hand on the + edge of the table. + </p> + <p> + “'This thing happens all the time,' he said, 'all about, where + professional criminals are at work. It accounts for a lot of mysteries + that the police cannot make head or tail of, like this one, for example. + Without our knowledge of this sinister custom, one could not begin or end + with an affair like this. + </p> + <p> + “'But it's simple when one has the cue—it's immensely simple. We + know exactly what happened and the sort of crooks that were about the + business. The barefoot prints show the Continental group. That's the trick + of Southern Europe to go in barefoot behind a man to kill him.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry jarred the whole table with his big hand. The surface of the + table was covered with powdered chalk that the baronet had dusted over it + in the hope of developing criminal finger prints. Now under the drumming + of his palm the particles of white dust whirled like microscopic elfin + dancers. + </p> + <p> + “'The thing's clear as daylight,' he went on: 'One of the professional + group brought the accomplice down here to divide the booty. He broke the + door in. They sat down here at this table with the lighted candle as you + see it. And while the stuff was being sorted out, another of the band + slipped in behind the man and killed him. + </p> + <p> + “'They started to carry the body out. Millson chanced by. They got in a + funk and rushed the thing. Of course they had a motor down the road, and + equally of course it was no trick to whisk the body out of the + neighborhood.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry got half up on his feet with his energy in the solution of the + thing. He thrust his spread-out fingers down on the table like a man, by + that gesture, pressing in an inevitable, conclusive summing up.” + </p> + <p> + The girl paused. “It was splendid, I thought. I applauded like an + entranced pit! + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. Meadows didn't say a word. He took up the big glass we had used + about the inspection of the place, and passed it over the prints Sir Henry + was unconsciously making in the dust on the polished surface of the table. + Then he put the glass down and looked the excited baronet calmly in the + face. + </p> + <p> + “'There,' cried Sir Henry, 'the thing's no mystery.' + </p> + <p> + “For the first time Mr. Meadows opened his mouth. 'It's the profoundest + mystery I ever heard of,' he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry was astonished. He sat down and looked across the table at the + man. He wasn't able to speak for a moment, then he got it out: 'Why + exactly do you say that?' + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meadows put his elbows on the table. He twiddled the big reading + glass in his fingers. His face got firm and decided. + </p> + <p> + “'To begin with,' he said, 'the door to this house was never broken by a + professional cracksman. It's the work of a bungling amateur. A + professional never undertakes to break a door at the lock. Naturally + that's the firmest place about a door. The implement he intends to use as + a lever on the door he puts in at the top or bottom. By that means he has + half of the door as a lever against the resistance of the lock. Besides, a + professional of any criminal group is a skilled workman. He doesn't waste + effort. He doesn't fracture a door around the lock. This door's all + mangled, splintered and broken around the lock.'” + </p> + <p> + “He stopped and looked about the room, and out through the window at the + Scotland Yard patrol. The features of his face were contracted with the + problem. One could imagine one saw the man's mind laboring at the mystery. + 'And that's not all,' he said. 'Your man Millson is not telling the truth. + He didn't see a dead body lying on the steps of this house; and he didn't + see a man running away.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry broke in at that. 'Impossible,' he said; 'Millson's a + first-class inspector, absolutely reliable. Why do you say that he didn't + see the dead man on the steps or the assassin running away?' + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Meadows answered in the same even voice. 'Because there was never any + dead man here,' he said, 'for anybody to see. And because Millson's + 'description of the man he saw is scientifically an impossible feat of + vision.' + </p> + <p> + “Impossible?' cried Sir Henry. + </p> + <p> + “'Quite impossible,' Mr. Meadows insisted. 'Millson tells us that the man + he saw running away in the night wore a blue coat and reddish-brown + trousers. He says he was barely able to distinguish the blue coat, but + that he could see the reddish-brown trousers very clearly. Now, as a + matter of fact, it has been very accurately determined that red is the + hardest color to distinguish at night, and blue the very easiest. A blue + coat would be clearly visible long after reddish-brown trousers had become + indistinguishable in the darkness.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry's under jaw sagged a little. 'Why, yes,' he said, 'that's true; + that's precisely true. Gross, at the University of Gratz, determined that + by experiment in 1912. I never thought about it!' + </p> + <p> + “'There are some other things here that you have not, perhaps, precisely + thought about,' Mr. Meadows went on. + </p> + <p> + “'For example, the things that happened in this room did not happen in the + night. They happened in the day.' + </p> + <p> + “He pointed to the half-burned wax candle on the table. 'There's a + headless joiner's nail driven into the table,' he said, 'and this candle + is set down over the nail. That means that the person who placed it there + wished it to remain there—to remain there firmly. He didn't put it + down there for the brief requirements of a passing tragedy, he put it + there to remain; that's one thing. + </p> + <p> + “'Another thing is that this candle thus firmly fastened on the table was + never alight there. If it had ever been burning in its position on the + table, some of the drops of melted wax would have fallen about it. + </p> + <p> + “'You will observe that, while the candle is firmly fixed, it does not set + straight; it is inclined at least ten degrees out of perpendicular. In + that position it couldn't have burned for a moment without dripping melted + wax on the table. And there's none on the table; there has never been any + on it. Your glass shows not the slightest evidence of a wax stain.' He + added: 'Therefore the candle is a blind; false evidence to give us the + impression of a night affair.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry's jaw sagged; now his mouth gaped. 'True,' he said. 'True, + true.' He seemed to get some relief to his damaged deductions out of the + repeated word. + </p> + <p> + “The irony in Mr. Meadows' voice increased a little. 'Nor is that all,' he + said. 'The smear on the floor, and the stains in which the naked foot + tracked, are not human blood. They're not any sort of blood. It was + clearly evident when you had your lens over them. They show no coagulated + fiber. They show only the evidences of dye—weak dye—watered + red ink, I'd say.' + </p> + <p> + “I thought Sir Henry was going to crumple up in his chair. He seemed to + get loose and baggy in some extraordinary fashion, and his gaping jaw + worked. 'But the footprints,' he said, 'the naked footprints?' His voice + was a sort of stutter-the sort of shaken stutter of a man who has come a' + tumbling cropper. + </p> + <p> + “The American actually laughed: he laughed as we sometimes laugh at a + mental defective. + </p> + <p> + “'They're not footprints!' he said. 'Nobody ever had a foot cambered like + that, or with a heel like it, or with toes like it. Somebody made those + prints with his hand—the edge of his palm for the heel and the balls + of his fingers for the toes. The wide, unstained distances between these + heelprints and the prints of the ball of the toes show the impossible + arch.' + </p> + <p> + “Sir Henry was like a man gone to pieces. 'But who—who made them?' + he faltered. + </p> + <p> + “The American leaned forward and put the big glass over the prints that + Sir Henry had made with his fingers in the white dust on the mahogany + table. 'I think you know the answer to your question,' he said. 'The + whorls of these prints are identical with those of the toe tracks.' + </p> + <p> + “Then he laid the glass carefully down, sat back in his chair, folded his + arms and looked at Sir Henry. + </p> + <p> + “'Now,' he said, 'will you kindly tell me why you have gone to the trouble + of manufacturing all these false evidences of a crime?”' + </p> + <p> + The girl paused. There was intense silence in the drawing-room. The aged + man at the window had turned and was looking at her. The face of the old + woman seemed vague and uncertain. + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, “the real, amazing miracle happened. Sir Henry got on + his feet, his big body tense, his face like iron, his voice ringing. + </p> + <p> + “'I went to that trouble,' he said, 'because I wished to demonstrate—I + wished to demonstrate beyond the possibility of any error—that Mr. + Arthur Meadows, the pretended American from St. Paul, was in fact the + celebrated criminologist, Karl Holweg Leibnich, of Bonn, giving us the + favor of his learned presence while he signaled the German submarines off + the east coast roads with his high-powered motor lights.'” + </p> + <p> + Now there was utter silence in the drawing-room but for the low of the + Highland cattle and the singing of the birds outside. + </p> + <p> + For the first time there came a little tremor in the girl's voice. + </p> + <p> + “When Sir Henry doubted this American and asked me to go down and make + sure before he set a trap for him, I thought—I thought, if Tony + could risk his life for England, I could do that much.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a maid appeared in the doorway, the trim, immaculate, + typical English maid. “Tea is served, my lady,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The tall, fine old man crossed the room and offered his arm to the girl + with the exquisite, gracious manner with which once upon a time he had + offered it to a girlish queen at Windsor. + </p> + <p> + The ancient woman rose as if she would go out before them. Then suddenly, + at the door, she stepped aside for the girl to pass, making the long, + stooping, backward curtsy of the passed Victorian era. + </p> + <p> + “After you, my dear,” she said, “always!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. The Man in the Green Hat + </h2> + <p> + “Alas, monsieur, in spite of our fine courtesies, the conception of + justice by one race must always seem outlandish to another!” + </p> + <p> + It was on the terrace of Sir Henry Marquis' villa at Cannes. The members + of the little party were in conversation over their tobacco—the + Englishman, with his brier-root pipe; the American Justice, with a Havana + cigar; and the aged Italian, with his cigarette. The last was speaking. + </p> + <p> + He was a very old man, but he gave one the impression of incredible, + preposterous age. He was bald; he had neither eyebrows nor eyelashes. A + wiry mustache, yellow with nicotine, alone remained. Great wrinkles lay + below the eyes and along the jaw, under a skin stretched like parchment + over the bony protuberances of the face. + </p> + <p> + These things established the aspect of old age; but it was the man's + expression and manner that gave one the sense of incalculable antiquity. + The eyes seemed to look out from a window, where the man behind them had + sat watching the human race from the beginning. And his manners had the + completion of one whose experience of life is comprehensive and finished. + </p> + <p> + “It seems strange to you, monsieur”—he was addressing, in French, + the American Justice—“that we should put our prisoners into an iron + cage, as beasts are exhibited in a circus. You are shocked at that. It + strikes you as the crudity of a race not quite civilized. + </p> + <p> + “You inquire about it with perfect courtesy; but, monsieur, you inquire as + one inquires about a custom that his sense of justice rejects.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, monsieur; but there are some conceptions of justice in the + law of your admirable country that seem equally strange to me.” + </p> + <p> + The men about the Count on the exquisite terrace, looking down over Cannes + into the arc of the sea, felt that the great age of this man gave him a + right of frankness, a privilege of direct expression, they could not + resent. Somehow, at the extremity of life, he seemed beyond pretenses; and + he had the right to omit the digressions by which younger men are + accustomed to approach the truth. + </p> + <p> + “What is this strange thing in our law, Count?” said the American. + </p> + <p> + The old man made a vague gesture, as one who puts away an inquiry until + the answer appears. + </p> + <p> + “Many years ago,” he continued, “I read a story about the red Indians by + your author, Cooper. It was named 'The Oak Openings,' and was included, I + think, in a volume entitled Stories of the Prairie. I believe I have the + names quite right, since the author impressed me as an inferior comer with + an abundance of gold about him. In the story Corporal Flint was captured + by the Indians under the leadership of Bough of Oak, a cruel and + bloodthirsty savage. + </p> + <p> + “This hideous beast determined to put his prisoner to the torture of the + saplings, a barbarity rivaling the crucifixion of the Romans. Two small + trees standing near each other were selected, the tops lopped off and the + branches removed; they were bent and the tops were lashed together. One of + the victim's wrists was bound to the top of each of the young trees; then + the saplings were released and the victim, his arms wrenched and + dislocated, hung suspended in excruciating agony, like a man nailed to a + cross. + </p> + <p> + “It was fearful torture. The strain on the limbs was hideous, yet the + victim might live for days. Nothing short of crucifixion—that beauty + of the Roman law—ever equaled it.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Corporal Flint, who seemed to have a knowledge of the Indian character, + had endeavored so to anger the Indians by taunt and invective that some + brave would put an arrow into his heart, or dash his brains out with a + stone ax. + </p> + <p> + “In this he failed. Bough of Oak controlled his braves and Corporal Flint + was lashed to the saplings. But, as the trees sprang apart, wrenching the + man's arms out of their sockets, a friendly Indian, Pigeonwing, concealed + in a neighboring thicket, unable to rescue his friend and wishing to save + him from the long hours of awful torture, shot Corporal Flint through the + forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” continued the Count, “if there was no question about these facts, + and Bough of Oak stood for trial before any civilized tribunal on this + earth, do you think the laws of any country would acquit him of the murder + of Corporal Flint?” + </p> + <p> + The whole company laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely serious,” continued the Count. “What do you think? There + are three great nations represented here.” + </p> + <p> + “The exigencies of war,” said Sir Henry Marquis, “might differentiate a + barbarity from a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “But let us assume,” replied the Count, “that no state of war existed; + that it was a time of peace; that Corporal Flint was innocent of wrong; + and that Bough of Oak was acting entirely from a depraved instinct bent on + murder. In other words, suppose this thing had occurred yesterday in one + of the Middle States of the American Republic?” + </p> + <p> + The American felt that this question was directed primarily to himself. He + put down his cigar and indicated the Englishman by a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Your great jurist, Sir James Stephen,” he began, “constantly reminds us + that the criminal law is a machine so rough and dangerous that we can use + it only with every safety device attached. + </p> + <p> + “And so, Count,” he continued, to the Italian, “the administration of the + criminal law in our country may seem to you subject to delays and + indirections that are not justified. These abuses could be generally + corrected by an intelligent presiding judge; but, in part, they are + incidental to a fair and full investigation of the charge against the + prisoner. I think, however, that our conception of justice does not differ + from that of other nations.” + </p> + <p> + The old Count shrugged his shoulders at the digression. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I do not refer to the mere administration + of the criminal law in your country; though, monsieur, we have been + interested in observing its peculiarities in such notable examples as the + Thaw trials in New York, and the Anarchist cases in Chicago some years + ago. I believe the judge in the latter trial gave about one hundred + instructions on the subject of reasonable doubt—quite intelligible, + I dare say, to an American jury; but, I must confess, somewhat beyond me + in their metaphysical refinements. + </p> + <p> + “I should understand reasonable doubt if I were uninstructed, but I do not + think I could explain it. I should be, concerning it, somewhat as Saint + Augustine was with a certain doctrine of the Church when he said: 'I do + not know if you ask me; but if you do not ask me I know very well.'” + </p> + <p> + He paused and blew a tiny ring or smoke out over the terrace toward the + sea. + </p> + <p> + “There was a certain poetic justice finally in that case,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “The prisoners were properly convicted of the Haymarket murders,” said the + American Justice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no doubt,” returned the Count; “but I was not thinking of that. + Following a custom of your courts, I believe, the judge at the end of the + trial put the formal inquiry as to whether the prisoners had anything to + say. Whereupon they rose and addressed him for six days!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. + </p> + <p> + “After that, monsieur, I am glad to add, they were all very properly + hanged. + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur, permit me to return to my question: Do you think any + intelligent tribunal on this earth would acquit Bough of Oak of the murder + of Corporal Flint under the conditions I have indicated?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the American. “It would be a cold-blooded murder; and in the + end the creature would be executed.” + </p> + <p> + The old Count turned suddenly in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “in a Continental court, it is certain; but in America, + monsieur, under your admirable law, founded on the common law of England?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure we should hang him,” replied the American. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” cried the old Count, “you have me profoundly puzzled.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to the little group on the terrace that they, and not the Count, + were indicated by that remark. He had stated a case about which there + could be no two opinions under any civilized conception of justice. Sir + Henry Marquis had pointed out the only element—a state of war—which + could distinguish the case from plain premeditated murder in its highest + degree. They looked to him for an explanation; but it did not immediately + arrive. + </p> + <p> + The Count noticed it and offered a word of apology. + </p> + <p> + “Presently—presently,” he said. “We have these two words in Italian—sparate! + and aspetate! Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the American: + </p> + <p> + “You do not know our language, I believe. Suppose I should suddenly call + out one of these words and afterward it should prove that a life hung on + your being able to say which word it was I uttered. Do you think, + monsieur, you could be certain? + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur; and so courts are wise to require a full explanation of + every extraordinary fact. George Goykovich, an Austrian, having no + knowledge of the Italian language, swore in the court of an American state + that he heard a prisoner use the Italian word sparate! and that he could + not be mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “I would not believe him, monsieur, on that statement; but he explained + that he was a coal miner, that the mines were worked by Italians, and that + this word was called out when the coal was about to be shot down with + powder. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, monsieur, the explanation is complete. George Goykovich must know + this word; it was a danger signal. I would believe now his extraordinary + statement.” + </p> + <p> + The Count stopped a moment and lighted another cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me if I seem to proceed obliquely. The incident is related to the + case I approach; and it makes clear, monsieur, why the courts of France, + for example, permit every variety of explanation in a criminal trial, + while your country and the great English nation limit explanations. + </p> + <p> + “You do not permit hearsay evidence to save a man's life; with a fine + distinction you permit it to save only his character!” + </p> + <p> + “The rule,” replied the American justice, “everywhere among + English-speaking people is that the best evidence of which the subject is + capable shall be produced. We permit a witness to testify only to what he + actually knows. That is the rule. It is true there are exceptions to it. + In some instances he may testify as to what he has heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” replied the Count; “you will not permit such evidence to take + away a man's horse, but you will permit it to take away a woman's + reputation! I shall never be able to understand these delicate refinements + of the English law!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Count,” suggested Sir Henry Marquis, “reputation is precisely that + what the neighborhood says about one.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, monsieur,” returned the Count. “I do not criticize your customs. + They are doubtless excellent in every variety of way. I deplore only my + inability to comprehend them. For example, monsieur, why should you hold a + citizen responsible in all other cases only for what he does, but in the + case of his own character turn about and try him for what people say he + does? + </p> + <p> + “Thus, monsieur, as I understand it, the men of an English village could + not take away my pig by merely proving that everybody said it was stolen; + but they could brand me as a liar by merely proving what the villagers + said! It seems incredible that men should put such value on a pig.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry Marquis laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It is not entirely a question of values, Count.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg you to pardon me, monsieur,” the Italian went on. “Doubtless, on + this subject I do nothing more than reveal an intelligence lamentably + inefficient; but I had the idea that English people were accustomed to + regard property of greater importance than life.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never heard,” replied the Englishman, smiling, “that our courts + gave more attention to pigs than to murder.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, monsieur,” said the Count—“that is precisely what they + have been accustomed to do. It is only, I believe, within recent years + that one convicted of murder in England could take an appeal to a higher + court; though a controversy over pigs—or, at any rate, the pasture + on which they gathered acorns—could always be carried up.” + </p> + <p> + The great age of the Count—he seemed to be the representative in the + world of some vanished empire—gave his irony a certain indirection. + Everybody laughed. And he added: “Even your word 'murder,' I believe, was + originally the name of a fine imposed by the Danes on a village unless it + could be proved that the person found dead was an Englishman! + </p> + <p> + “I wonder when, precisely, the world began to regard it as a crime to kill + an Englishman?” + </p> + <p> + The parchment on the bones of his face wrinkled into a sort of smile. His + greatest friend on the Riviera was this pipe-smoking Briton. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly, with a nimble gesture that one would not believe possible + in the aged, he stripped back his sleeve and exhibited a long, curiously + twisted scar, as though a bullet had plowed along the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, monsieur,” he said, “I myself live in the most primitive condition + of society! I pay a tribute for life.... Ah! no, monsieur; it is not to + the Camorra that I pay. It is quite unromantic. I think my secretary + carries it in his books as a pension to an indigent relative.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the American + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, monsieur, my estates in Salerno are not what they were; the + olive trees are old and all drains on my income are a burden—even + this gratuity. I thought I should be rid of it; but, alas, the + extraordinary conception of justice in your country!” + </p> + <p> + He broke the cigarette in his fingers, and flung the pieces over the + terrace. + </p> + <p> + “In the great range of mountains,” he began, “slashing across the American + states and beautifully named the Alleghanies, there is a vast measure of + coal beds. It is thither that the emigrants from Southern Europe journey. + They mine out the coal, sometimes descending into the earth through pits, + or what in your language are called shafts, and sometimes following the + stratum of the coal bed into the hill. + </p> + <p> + “This underworld, monsieur—this, sunless world, built underneath the + mountains, is a section of Europe slipped under the American Republic. The + language spoken there is not English. The men laboring in those buried + communities cry out sparate when they are about to shoot down the coal + with powder. It is Italy under there. There is a river called the + Monongahela in those mountains. It is an Indian name.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “And so, monsieur, what happened along it doubtless reminded me of + Cooper's story—Bough of Oak and the case of Corporal Flint.” + </p> + <p> + He took another cigarette out of a box on the table, but he did not light + it. + </p> + <p> + “In one of the little mining villages along this river with the enchanting + name there was a man physically like the people of the Iliad; and with + that, monsieur, he had a certain cast of mind not unHellenic. He was tall, + weighed two hundred and forty pounds, lean as a gladiator, and in the + vigor of golden youth. + </p> + <p> + “There were no wars to journey after and no adventures; but there was + danger and adventure here. This land was full of cockle, winnowed out of + Italy, Austria and the whole south of Europe. It took courage and the iron + hand of the state to keep the peace. Here was a life of danger; and this + Ionian—big, powerful, muscled like the heroes of the Circus Maximus—entered + this perilous service. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, I have said his mind was Hellenic, like his big, wonderful + body. Mark you how of heroic antiquity it was! It was his boast, among the + perils that constantly beset him, that no criminal should ever take his + life; that, if ever he should receive a mortal wound from the hand of the + assassins about him, he would not wait to die in agony by it. He himself + would sever the damaged thread of life and go out like a man! + </p> + <p> + “Observe, monsieur, how like the great heroes of legend—like the + wounded Saul when he ordered his armor-bearer to kill him; like Brutus + when he fell on his sword!” + </p> + <p> + He looked intently at the American. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless, monsieur,” he went on, “those near this man along the + Monongahela did not appreciate his attitude of grandeur; but to us, in the + distance, it seemed great and noble.” + </p> + <p> + He looked out over the Mediterranean, where the great adventurers who + cherished these lofty pagan ideals once beat along in the morning of the + world. + </p> + <p> + “On an afternoon of summer,” he continued like one who begins a saga, + “this man, alone and fearless, followed a violator of the law and arrested + him in a house of the village. As he led the man away he noticed that an + Italian followed. He was a little degenerate, wearing a green hat, and + bearing now one name and now another. They traversed the village toward + the municipal prison; and this creature, featured like a Parisian Apache, + skulked behind. + </p> + <p> + “As they went along, two Austrians seated on the porch of a house heard + the little man speak to the prisoner. He used the word sparate. They did + not know what he meant, for he spoke in Italian; but they recognized the + word, for it was the word used in the mines before the coal was shot down. + The prisoner made his reply in Italian, which the Austrians did not + understand. + </p> + <p> + “It seemed that this man who had made the arrest did not know Italian, for + he stopped and asked the one behind him whether the prisoner was his + brother. The man replied in the negative.” + </p> + <p> + The Count paused, as though for an explanation. “What the Apache said was: + 'Shall I shoot him here or wait until we reach the ravine?' And the + prisoner replied: 'Wait until we come to the ravine.' + </p> + <p> + “They went on. Presently they reached a sort of hollow, where the reeds + grew along the road densely and to the height of a man's head. Here the + Italian Apache, the degenerate with the green hat, following some three + steps behind, suddenly drew a revolver from his pocket and shot the man + twice in the back. It was a weapon carrying a lead bullet as large as the + tip of one's little finger. The officer fell. The Apache and the prisoner + fled. + </p> + <p> + “The wounded man got up. He spread out his arms; and he shouted, with a + great voice, like the heroes of the Iliad. The two wounds were mortal; + they were hideous, ghastly wounds, ripping up the vital organs in the + man's body and severing the great arteries. The splendid pagan knew he had + received his death wounds; and, true to his atavistic ideal, the ideal of + the Greek, the Hebrew and the Roman, the ideal of the great pagan world to + which he in spirit belonged, and of which the poets sing, he put his own + weapon to his head and blew his brains out.” + </p> + <p> + The old Count, his chin up, his withered, yellow face vitalized, lifted + his hands like one before something elevated and noble. After some moments + had passed he continued: + </p> + <p> + “On the following day the assassin was captured in a neighboring village. + Feeling ran so high that it was with difficulty that the officers of the + law saved him from being lynched. He was taken about from one prison to + another. Finally he was put on trial for murder. + </p> + <p> + “There was never a clearer case before any tribunal in this world. + </p> + <p> + “Many witnesses identified the assassin—not merely English-speaking + men, who might have been mistaken or prejudiced, but Austrians, Poles, + Italians—the men of the mines who knew him; who had heard him cry + out the fatal Italian word; who saw him following in the road behind his + victim on that Sunday afternoon of summer; who knew his many names and + every feature of his cruel, degenerate face. There was no doubt anywhere + in the trial. Learned surgeons showed that the two wounds in the dead + man's back from the big-calibered weapon were deadly, fatal wounds that no + man could have survived. + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing incomplete in that trial. + </p> + <p> + “Everything was so certain that the assassin did not even undertake to + contradict; not one statement, not one word of the evidence against him + did he deny. It was a plain case of willful, deliberate and premeditated + murder. The judge presiding at the trial instructed the jury that a man is + presumed to intend that which he does; that whoever kills a human being + with malice aforethought is guilty of murder; that murder which is + perpetrated by any kind of willful, deliberate and premeditated killing is + murder in the first degree. The jury found the assassin guilty and the + judge sentenced him to be hanged.” + </p> + <p> + The Count paused and looked at his companions about him on the terrace. + </p> + <p> + “Messieurs,” he said, “do you think that conviction was just?” + </p> + <p> + There was a common assent. Some one said: “It was a cruel murder if ever + there was one.” And another: “It was wholly just; the creature deserved to + hang.” + </p> + <p> + The old Count bowed, putting out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “And so I hoped he would.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” said the American. + </p> + <p> + The Count regarded him with a queer, ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Unlike the great British people, monsieur,” he replied, “your courts have + never given the pig, or the pasture on which he gathers his acorns, a + consideration above the human family. The case was taken to your Court of + Appeals of that province.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and lighted his cigarette deliberately, with a match scratched + slowly on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he said, “I do not criticize your elevated court. It is + composed of learned men—wise and patriotic, I have no doubt. They + cannot make the laws, monsieur; they cannot coin a conception of justice + for your people. They must enforce the precise rules of law that the + conception of justice in your country has established. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, monsieur”—and his thin yellow lips curled—“for + the sake of my depleted revenues I could have wished that the decision of + this court had been other than it was.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did it decide?” asked the American. + </p> + <p> + “It decided, monsieur,” replied the Count, “that my estates in Salerno + must continue to be charged with the gratuity to the indigent relative. + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, monsieur, it decided, because the great pagan did not + wait to die in agony, did not wait for the mortal wounds inflicted by the + would-be assassin to kill him, that interesting person—the man in + the green hat—was not guilty of murder in the first degree and could + not be hanged!” + </p> + <p> + Note—See State versus Angelina; 80 Southeastern Reporter, 141: “The + intervening responsible agent who wrongfully accelerates death is guilty + of the murder, and not the one who inflicted the first injury, though in + itself mortal.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. The Wrong Sign + </h2> + <p> + It was an ancient diary in a faded leather cover. The writing was fine and + delicate, and the ink yellow with age. Sir Henry Marquis turned the pages + slowly and with care for the paper was fragile. + </p> + <p> + We had dined early at the Ritz and come in later to his great home in St. + James's Square. + </p> + <p> + He wished to show me this old diary that had come to him from a branch of + his mother's family in Virginia—a branch that had gone out with a + King's grant when Virginia was a crown colony. The collateral ancestor, + Pendleton, had been a justice of the peace in Virginia, and a spinster + daughter had written down some of the strange cases with which her father + had been concerned. + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry Marquis believed that these cases in their tragic details, and + their inspirational, deductive handling, equaled any of our modern time. + The great library overlooking St. James's Square, was curtained off from + London. Sir Henry read by the fire; and I listened, returned, as by some + recession of time to the Virginia of a vanished decade. The narrative of + the diary follows: + </p> + <p> + My father used to say that the Justice of God was sometimes swift and + terrible. He said we thought of it usually as remote and deliberate, a + sort of calm adjustment in some supernatural Court of Equity. But this + idea was far from the truth. He had seen the justice of God move on the + heels of a man with appalling swiftness; with a crushing force and + directness that simply staggered the human mind. I know the case he + thought about. + </p> + <p> + Two men sat over a table when my father entered. One of them got up. He + was a strange human creature, when you stood and looked calmly at him. You + thought the Artificer had designed him for a priest of the church. He had + the massive features and the fringe of hair around his bald head like a + tonsure. At first, to your eye, it was the vestments of the church, he + lacked; then you saw that the lack was something fundamental; something organic + in the nature of the man. And as he held and stimulated your attention you + got a fearful idea, that the purpose for which this human creature was + shaped had been somehow artfully reversed! + </p> + <p> + He was big boned and tall when he stood up. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” he said, “I would have come to you, but for my guest.” + </p> + <p> + And he indicated the elegant young man at the table. + </p> + <p> + “But I did not send you word to ride a dozen miles through the hills on + any trivial business, or out of courtesy to me. It is a matter of some + import, so I will pay ten eagles.” + </p> + <p> + My father looked steadily at the man. + </p> + <p> + “I am not for hire,” he said. + </p> + <p> + My father was a justice of the peace in Virginia, under the English + system, by the theory of which the most substantial men in a county + undertook to keep the peace for the welfare of the State. Like Washington + in the service of the Colonial army, he took no pay. + </p> + <p> + The big man laughed. + </p> + <p> + “We are most of us for purchase, and all of us for hire,” he said. “I will + make it twenty!” + </p> + <p> + The young man at the table now interrupted. He was elegant in the costume + of the time, in imported linen and cloth from an English loom. His hair + was thick and black; his eyebrows straight, his body and his face rich in + the blood and the vitalities of youth. But sensuality was on him like a + shadow. The man was given over to a life of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pendleton,” he said, with a patronizing pedantic air, “the + commonwealth is interested to see that litigation does not arise; and to + that end, I hope you will not refuse us the benefit of your experience. We + are about to draw up a deed of sale running into a considerable sum, and + we would have it court proof.” + </p> + <p> + He made a graceful gesture with his jeweled hand. + </p> + <p> + “I would be secure in my purchase, and Zindorf in his eagles, and you, + Sir, in the knowledge that the State will not be vexed by any suit between + us. Every contract, I believe, upon some theory of the law, is a + triangular affair with the State a party. Let us say then, that you + represent Virginia!” + </p> + <p> + “In the service of the commonwealth,” replied my father coldly, “I am + always to be commanded.” + </p> + <p> + The man flicked a bit of dust from his immaculate coat sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a conference of high powers. I shall represent Eros; Mr. + Pendleton, Virginia; and Zindorf” and he laughed—“his Imperial + Master!” + </p> + <p> + And to the eye the three men fitted to their legend. The Hellenic God of + pleasure in his sacred groves might have chosen for his disciple one from + Athens with a face and figure like this youth. My father bore the + severities of the law upon him. And I have written how strange a creature + the third party to this conference was. + </p> + <p> + He now answered with an oath. + </p> + <p> + “You have a very pretty wit, Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said. “I add to my + price a dozen eagles for it.” + </p> + <p> + The young man shrugged his shoulders in his English coat. + </p> + <p> + “Smart money, eh, Zindorf... Well, it does not make me smart. It only + makes me remember that Count Augsburg educated you in Bavaria for the + Church and you fled away from it to be a slave trader in Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + He got on his feet, and my father saw that the man was in liquor. He was + not drunken, but the effect was on him with its daring and its + indiscretions. + </p> + <p> + It was an April morning, bright with sun. The world was white with apple + blossoms, the soft air entered through the great open windows. And my + father thought that the liquor in the man had come with him out of a night + of bargaining or revel. + </p> + <p> + Morrow put his hands on the table and looked at Zindorf; then, suddenly, + the laughter in his face gave way to the comprehension of a swift, + striking idea. + </p> + <p> + “Why, man,” he cried, “it's the devil's truth! Everything about you is a + negation! You ought to be a priest by all the lines and features of you; + but you're not... Scorch me, but you're not!” + </p> + <p> + His voice went up on the final word as though to convey some impressive, + sinister discovery. + </p> + <p> + It was true in every aspect of the man. The very clothes he wore, somber, + wool-threaded homespun, crudely patched, reminded one of the coarse + fabrics that monks affect for their abasement. But one saw, when one + remembered the characteristic of the man, that they represented here only + an extremity of avarice. + </p> + <p> + Zindorf looked coldly at his guest. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said, “you will go on, and my price will go on!” + </p> + <p> + But the young blood, on his feet, was not brought up by the monetary + threat. He looked about the room, at the ceiling, the thick walls. And, + like a man who by a sudden recollection confounds his adversary with an + overlooked illustrative fact, he suddenly cried out: + </p> + <p> + “By the soul of Satan, you're housed to suit! Send me to the pit! It's the + very place for you! Eh! Zindorf, do you know who built the house you live + in?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not, Mr. Lucian Morrow,” said the man. “Who built it?” + </p> + <p> + One could see that he wished to divert the discourses of his guest. He + failed. + </p> + <p> + “God built it!” cried Morrow. + </p> + <p> + He put out his hands as though to include the hose. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” he said, “you will remember. The people built these walls for + a church. It burned, but the stone walls could not burn; they remained + overgrown with creeper. Then, finally, old Wellington Monroe built a house + into the walls for the young wife he was about to marry, but he went to + the coffin instead of the bride-bed, and the house stood empty. It fell + into the courts with the whole of Monroe's tangled business and finally + Zindorf gets it at a sheriff's sale.” + </p> + <p> + The big man now confronted the young blood with decision. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said, “if you are finished with your fool talk, I + will bid you good morning. I have decided not to sell the girl.” + </p> + <p> + The face of Morrow changed. His voice wheedled in an anxious note. + </p> + <p> + “Not sell her, Zindorf!” he echoed. “Why man, you have promised her to me + all along. You always said I should have her in spite of your cursed + partner Ordez. You said you'd get her some day and sell her to me. Now, + curse it, Zindorf, I want her... I've got the money: ten thousand dollars. + It's a big lot of money. But I've got it. I've got it in gold.” + </p> + <p> + He went on: + </p> + <p> + “Besides, Zindorf, you can have the money, it'll mean more to you. But + it's the girl I want.” + </p> + <p> + He stood up and in his anxiety the effect of the liquor faded out. + </p> + <p> + “I've waited on your promise, Zindorf. You said that some day, when Ordez + was hard-pressed he would sell her for money, even if she was his natural + daughter. You were right; you knew Ordez. You have got an assignment of + all the slaves in possession, in the partnership, and Ordez has cleared + out of the country. I know what you paid for his half-interest in this + business, it's set out in the assignment. It was three thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + “Think of it, man, three thousand dollars to Ordez for a wholesale, + omnibus assignment of everything. An elastic legal note of an assignment + that you can stretch to include this girl along with the half-dozen other + slaves that you have on hand here; and I offer you ten thousand dollars + for the girl alone!” + </p> + <p> + One could see how the repetition of the sum in gold affected Zindorf. + </p> + <p> + He had the love of money in that dominating control that the Apostle spoke + of. But the elegant young man was moved by a lure no less potent. And his + anxiety, for the time, suppressed the evidences of liquor. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the risk on the title, Zindorf. You and Ordez were partners in + this traffic. Ordez gives you a general assignment of all slaves on hand + for three thousand dollars and lights out of the country. He leaves his + daughter here among the others. And this general assignment can be + construed to include her. Her mother was a slave and that brings her + within the law. We know precisely who her mother was, and all about it. + You looked it up and my lawyer, Mr. Cable, looked it up. Her mother was + the octoroon woman, Suzanne, owned by old Judge Marquette in New Orleans. + </p> + <p> + “There may have been some sort of church marriage, but there's no legal + record, Cable says. + </p> + <p> + “The woman belonged to Marquette, and under the law the girl is a slave. + You got a paper title out of Marquette's executors, privily, years ago. + Now you have this indefinite assignment by Ordez. He's gone to the Spanish + Islands, or the devil, or both. And if Mr. Pendleton can draw a deed of + sale that will stand in the courts between us, I'll take the risk on the + validity of my title.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “The law's sound on slaves, Judge Madison has a dozen himself, not all + black either; not three-eighths black!” and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to my father. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pendleton,” he said, “I persuaded Zindorf to send for you to draw up + this deed of sale. I have no confidence in the little practicing + tricksters at the county seat. They take a fee and, with premeditation, + write a word or phrase into the contract that leaves it open for a suit at + law.” + </p> + <p> + He made a courteous bow, accompanied by a dancing master's gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I do not offend you with the offer of a fee, but I present my gratitude + for the conspicuous courtesy, and I indicate the service to the + commonwealth of legal papers in form and court proof. May I hope, Sir, + that you will not deny us the benefit of your highly distinguished + service.” + </p> + <p> + My father very slowly looked about him in calm reflection. + </p> + <p> + He had ridden ten miles through the hills on this April morning, at + Zindorf's message sent the night before. The clay of the roads was still + damp and plastic from the recent rain. There were flecks of mud on him and + the splashing of the streams. + </p> + <p> + He was a big, dominating man, in the hardened strength and experience of + middle life. He had come, as he believed, upon some service of the state. + And here was a thing for the little dexterities of a lawyer's clerk. + Everybody in Virginia, who knew my father, can realize how he was apt to + meet the vague message of Zindorf that got him in this house, and the + patronizing courtesies of Mr. Lucian Morrow. + </p> + <p> + He was direct and virile, and while he feared God, like the great figures + in the Pentateuch, as though he were a judge of Israel enforcing his + decrees with the weapon of iron, I cannot write here, that at any period + of his life, or for any concern or reason, he very greatly regarded man. + </p> + <p> + He went over to the window and looked out at the hills and the road that + he had traveled. + </p> + <p> + The mid-morning sun was on the fields and groves like a benediction. The + soft vitalizing air entered and took up the stench of liquor, the ash of + tobacco and the imported perfumes affected by Mr. Lucian Morrow. + </p> + <p> + The windows in the room were long, gothic like a church, and turning on a + pivot. They ran into the ceiling that Monroe had built across the gutted + walls. The house stood on the crown of a hill, in a cluster of oak trees. + Below was the abandoned graveyard, the fence about it rotted down; the + stone slabs overgrown with moss. The four roads running into the hills + joined and crossed below this oak grove that the early people had selected + for a house of God. + </p> + <p> + My father looked out on these roads and far back on the one that he had + traveled. + </p> + <p> + There was no sound in the world, except the faint tolling of a bell in a + distant wood on the road. It was far off on the way to my father's house, + and the vague sound was to be heard only when a breath of wind carried + from that way. + </p> + <p> + My father gathered his big chin, flat like a plowshare, into the trough of + his bronze hand. He stood for some moments in reflection, then he turned + to Mr. Lucian Morrow. + </p> + <p> + “I think you are right,” he said. “I think this is a triangular affair + with the state a party. I am in the service of the state. Will you kindly + put the table by this window.” + </p> + <p> + They thought he wished the air, and would thus escape the closeness of the + room. And while my father stood aside, Zindorf and his guest carried the + flat writing table to the window and placed a chair. + </p> + <p> + My father sat down behind the table by the great open window, and looked + at Zindorf. + </p> + <p> + The man moved and acted like a monk. He had the figure and the tonsured + head. His coarse, patched clothes cut like the homely garments of the + simple people of the day, were not wholly out of keeping to the part. The + idea was visualized about him; the simplicity and the poverty of the great + monastic orders in their vast, noble humility. All striking and real until + one saw his face! + </p> + <p> + My father used to say that the great orders of God were correct in this + humility; for in its vast, comprehensive action, the justice of God moved + in a great plain, where every indicatory event was precisely equal; a + straw was a weaver's beam. + </p> + <p> + God hailed men to ruin in his court, not with spectacular devices, but by + means of some homely, common thing, as though to abase and overcome our + pride. + </p> + <p> + My father moved the sheets of foolscap, and tested the point of the quill + pen like one who considers with deliberation. He dipped the point into the + inkpot and slowly wrote a dozen formal words. + </p> + <p> + Then he stopped and put down the pen. + </p> + <p> + “The contests of the courts,” he said, “are usually on the question of + identity. I ought to see this slave for a correct description.” + </p> + <p> + The two men seemed for a moment uncertain what to do. + </p> + <p> + Then Zindorf addressed my father. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” he said, “the fortunes of life change, and the ideas suited + to one status are ridiculous in another. Ordez was a fool. He made believe + to this girl a future that he never intended, and she is under the glamor + of these fancies.” + </p> + <p> + He stood in the posture of a monk, and he spoke each word with a clear + enunciation. + </p> + <p> + “It is a very delicate affair, to bring this girl out of the extravagances + with which Ordez filled her idle head, and not be brutal in it. We must + conduct the thing with tact, and we will ask you, Pendleton, to observe + the courtesies of our pretension.” + </p> + <p> + When he had finished, he flung a door open and went down a stairway. For a + time my father heard his footsteps, echoing, like those of a priest in the + under chambers of a chapel. Then he ascended, and my father was + astonished. + </p> + <p> + He came with a young girl on his arm, as in the ceremony of marriage + sometimes the priest emerges with the bride. The girl was young and of a + Spanish beauty. She was all in white with blossoms in her hair. And she + was radiant, my father said, as in the glory of some happy contemplation. + There was no slave like this on the block in Virginia. Young girls like + this, my father had seen in Havana in the houses of Spanish Grandees. + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Pendleton, our neighbor,” Zindorf said. “He comes to offer + you his felicitations.” + </p> + <p> + The girl made a little formal curtsy. + </p> + <p> + “When my father returns,” she said in a queer, liquid accent, “he will + thank you, Meester Pendleton; just now he is on a journey.” + </p> + <p> + And she gave her hand to Lucian Morrow to kiss, like a lady of the time. + Then Zindorf, mincing his big step, led her out. + </p> + <p> + And my father stood behind the table in the enclosure of the window, with + his arms folded, and his chin lifted above his great black stock. I know + how my father looked, for I have seen him stand like that before moving + factors in great events, when he intended, at a certain cue, to enter. + </p> + <p> + He said that it was at this point that Mr. Lucian Morrow's early comment + on Zindorf seemed, all at once, to discover the nature of this whole + affair. He said that suddenly, with a range of vision like the great + figures in the Pentateuch, he saw how things right and true would work out + backward into abominations, if, by any chance, the virtue of God in events + were displaced! + </p> + <p> + Zindorf returned, and as he stepped through the door, closing it behind + him, the far-off tolling of the bell, faint, eerie, carried by a stronger + breath of April air, entered through the window. My father extended his + arm toward the distant wood. + </p> + <p> + “Zindorf,” he said, “do you mark the sign?” The man listened. + </p> + <p> + “What sign?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “The sign of death!” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + The man made a deprecating gesture with his hands, “I do not believe in + signs,” he said. + </p> + <p> + My father replied like one corrected by a memory. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” he said, “that is true. I should have remembered that. You do + not believe in signs, Zindorf, since you abandoned the sign of the cross, + and set these coarse patches on your knees to remind you not to bend them + in the sign of submission to the King of Kings.” + </p> + <p> + The intent in the mended clothing was the economy of avarice, but my + father turned it to his use. + </p> + <p> + The man's face clouded with anger. + </p> + <p> + “What I believe,” he said, “is neither the concern of you nor another.” + </p> + <p> + He paused with an oath. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you may believe, Zindorf,” replied my father, “the sound of that + bell is unquestionably a sign of death.” He pointed toward the distant + wood. “In the edge of the forest yonder is the ancient church that the + people built to replace the burned one here. It has been long abandoned, + but in its graveyard lie a few old families. And now and then, when an old + man dies, they bring him back to put him with his fathers. This morning, + as I came along, they were digging the grave for old Adam Duncan, and the + bell tolls for him. So you see,” and he looked Zindorf in the face, “a + belief in signs is justified.” + </p> + <p> + Again the big man made his gesture as of one putting something of no + importance out of the way. + </p> + <p> + “Believe what you like,” he said, “I am not concerned with signs.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Zindorf,” replied my father, “of all men you are the very one + most concerned about them. You must be careful not to use the wrong ones.” + </p> + <p> + It was a moment of peculiar tension. + </p> + <p> + The room was flooded with sun. The tiny creatures of the air droned + outside. Everywhere was peace and the gentle benevolence of peace. But + within this room, split off from the great chamber of a church, events + covert and sinister seemed preparing to assemble. + </p> + <p> + My father, big and dominant, was behind the table, his great shoulders + blotting out the window. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lucian Morrow sat doubled in a chair, and Zindorf stood with the + closed door behind him. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Zindorf,” he said, “each master has his set of signs. Most of us + have learned the signs of one master only. But you have learned the signs + of both. And you must be careful not to bring the signs of your first + master into the service of your last one.” + </p> + <p> + The big man did not move, he stood with the door closed behind him, and + studied my father's face like one who feels the presence of a danger that + he cannot locate. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” replied my father, “I mean, Zindorf, that each master has a + certain intent in events, and this intent is indicated by his set of + signs. Now the great purpose of these two masters, we believe, in all the + moving of events, is directly opposed. Thus, when we use a sign of one of + these masters, we express by the symbol of it the hope that events will + take the direction of his established purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see then... don't you see, that we dare not use the signs of + one in the service of the other?” + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” said the man, “I do not understand you.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke slowly and precisely, like one moving with an excess of care. + </p> + <p> + My father went on, his voice strong and level, his eyes on Zindorf. + </p> + <p> + “The thing is a great mystery,” he said. “It is not clear to any of us in + its causes or its relations. But old legends and old beliefs, running down + from the very morning of the world, tell us—warn us, Zindorf—that + the signs of each of these masters are abhorrent to the other. Neither + will tolerate the use of his adversary's sign. Moreover, Zindorf, there is + a double peril in it.” + </p> + <p> + And his voice rose. + </p> + <p> + “There is the peril that the new master will abandon the blunderer for the + insult, and there is the peril that the old one will destroy him for the + sacrilege!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door behind Zindorf opened, and the young girl entered. + She was excited and her eyes danced. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, “people are coming on every road!” + </p> + <p> + She looked, my father said, like a painted picture, her dark Castilian + beauty illumined by the pleasure in her interpretation of events. She + thought the countryside assembled after the manner of my father to express + its felicitations. + </p> + <p> + Zindorf crossed in great strides to the window: Mr. Lucian Morrow, sober + and overwhelmed by the mystery of events about him, got unsteadily on his + feet, holding with both hands to the oak back of a chair. + </p> + <p> + My father said that the tragedy of the thing was on him, and he acted + under the pressure of it. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he said, “you are to go to the house of your grandfather in + Havana. If Mr. Lucian Morrow wishes to renew his suit for your hand in + marriage, he will do it there. Go now and make your preparations for the + journey.” + </p> + <p> + The girl cried out in pleasure at the words. + </p> + <p> + “My grandfather is a great person in New Spain. I have always longed to + see him... father promised... and now I am to go ... when do we set out, + Meester Pendleton?” + </p> + <p> + “At once,” replied my father, “to-day.” Then he crossed the room and + opened the door for her to go out. He held the latch until the girl was + down the stairway. Then he closed the door. + </p> + <p> + The big man, falsely in his aspect, like a monk, looking out at the + far-off figures on the distant roads, now turned about. + </p> + <p> + “A clever ruse, Pendleton,” he said, “We can send her now, on this + pretended journey, to Morrow's house, after the sale.” + </p> + <p> + My father went over and sat down at the table. He took a faded silk + envelope out of his, coat, and laid it down before him. Then he answered + Zindorf. + </p> + <p> + “There will be no sale,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lucian Morrow interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “And why no sale, Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Because there is no slave to sell,” replied my father. “This girl is not + the daughter of the octoroon woman, Suzanne.” + </p> + <p> + Zindorf's big jaws tightened. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that?” he said. + </p> + <p> + My father answered with deliberation. + </p> + <p> + “I would have known it,” he said, “from the wording of the paper you + exhibit from Marquette's executors. It is merely a release of any claim or + color of title; the sort of legal paper one executes when one gives up a + right or claim that one has no faith in. Marquette's executors were the + ablest lawyers in New Orleans. They were not the men to sign away valuable + property in a conveyance like that; that they did sign such a paper is + conclusive evidence to me that they had nothing—and knew they had + nothing—to release by it.” He paused. + </p> + <p> + “I know it also,” he said, “because I have before me here the girl's + certificate of birth and Ordez's certificate of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the silk envelope and took out some faded papers. He unfolded + them and spread them out under his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I think Ordez feared for his child,” he said, “and stored these papers + against the day of danger to her, because they are copies taken from the + records in Havana.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at the astonished Morrow. + </p> + <p> + “Ordez married the daughter of Pedro de Hernando. I find, by a note to + these papers, that she is dead. I conclude that this great Spanish family + objected to the adventurer, and he fled with his infant daughter to New + Orleans.” he paused. + </p> + <p> + “The intrigue with the octoroon woman, Suzanne, came after that.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “You must renew your negotiations, Sir, in, a somewhat different manner + before a Spanish Grandee in Havana!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lucian Morrow did not reply. He stood in a sort of wonder. But + Zindorf, his face like iron, addressed my father: + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get these papers, Pendleton?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I got them from Ordez,” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + “When did you see Ordez?” + </p> + <p> + “I saw him to-day,” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + Zindorf did not move, but his big jaw worked and a faint spray of moisture + came out on his face. Then, finally, with no change or quaver in his + voice, he put his query. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Ordez?” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” echoed my father, and he rose. “Why, Zindorf, he is on his way + here.” And he extended his arm toward the open window. The big man lifted + his head and looked out at the men and horses now clearly visible on the + distant road. + </p> + <p> + “Who are these people,” he said, “and why do they come?” He spoke as + though he addressed some present but invisible authority. + </p> + <p> + My father answered him + </p> + <p> + “They are the people of Virginia,” he said, “and they come, Zindorf, in + the purpose of events that you have turned terribly backward!” + </p> + <p> + The man was in some desperate perplexity, but he had steel nerves and the + devil's courage. + </p> + <p> + He looked my father calmly in the face. + </p> + <p> + “What does all this mean?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It means, Zindorf,” cried my father, “it means that the very things, the + very particular things, that you ought to have used for the glory of God, + God has used for your damnation!” + </p> + <p> + And again, in the clear April air, there entered through the open window + the faint tolling of a bell. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Zindorf! I will tell you. In the old abandoned church yonder, + when they came to toll the bell for Duncan, the rope fell to pieces; I + came along then, and Jacob Lance climbed into the steeple to toll the bell + by hand. At the first crash of sound a wolf ran out of a thicket in the + ravine below him, and fled away toward the mountains. Lance, from his + elevated point, could see the wolf's muzzle was bloody. That would mean, + that a lost horse had been killed or an estray steer. He called down and + we went in to see what thing this scavenger had got hold of.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “In the cut of an abandoned road we found the body of Ordez riddled with + buckshot, and his pockets rifled. But sewed up in his coat was the silk + envelope with these papers. I took possession of them as a Justice of the + Peace, ordered the body sent on here, and the people to assemble.” + </p> + <p> + He extended his arm toward the faint, quivering, distant sound. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Zindorf,” he cried; “the bell began to toll for Duncan, but it + tolls now for the murderer of Ordez. It tolls to raise the country against + the assassin!” + </p> + <p> + The false monk had the courage of his master. He stood out and faced my + father. + </p> + <p> + “But can you find him, Pendleton,” he said. And his harsh voice was firm. + “You find Ordez dead; well, some assassin shot him and carried his body + into the cut of the abandoned road. But who was that assassin? Is Virginia + scant of murderers? Do you know the right one?” + </p> + <p> + My father answered in his great dominating voice + </p> + <p> + “God knows him, Zindorf, and I know him!... The man who murdered Ordez + made a fatal blunder... He used a sign of God in the service of the devil + and he is ruined!” + </p> + <p> + The big man stepped slowly backward into the room, while my father's + voice, filling the big empty spaces of the house, followed after him. + </p> + <p> + “You are lost, Zindorf! Satan is insulted, and God is outraged! You are + lost!” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment's silence; from outside came the sound of men and + horses. The notes of the girl, light, happy, ascended from the lower + chamber, as she sang about her preparations for the journey. Zindorf + continued to step awfully backward. And Lucian Morrow, shaken and sober, + cried out in the extremity of fear: + </p> + <p> + “In God's name, Pendleton, what do you mean; Zindorf, using a sign of God + in the service of the devil.” + </p> + <p> + And my father answered him: + </p> + <p> + “The corpse of Ordez lay in the bare cut of the abandoned road, and beside + it, bedded in the damp clay where he had knelt down to rifle the pockets + of the murdered body, were the patch prints of Zindorf's knees!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. The Fortune Teller + </h2> + <p> + Sir Henry Marquis continued to read; he made no comment; his voice clear + and even. + </p> + <p> + It was a big sunny room. The long windows looked out on a formal garden, + great beech trees and the bow of the river. Within it was a sort of + library. There were bookcases built into the wall, to the height of a + man's head, and at intervals between them, rising from the floor to the + cornice of the shelves, were rows of mahogany drawers with glass knobs. + There was also a flat writing table. + </p> + <p> + It was the room of a traveler, a man of letters, a dreamer. On the table + were an inkpot of carved jade, a paperknife of ivory with gold butterflies + set in; three bronze storks, with their backs together, held an exquisite + Japanese crystal. + </p> + <p> + The room was in disorder—the drawers pulled out and the contents + ransacked. + </p> + <p> + My father stood leaning against the casement of the window, looking out. + The lawyer, Mr. Lewis, sat in a chair beside the table, his eyes on the + violated room. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” he said, “I don't like this English man Gosford.” + </p> + <p> + The words seemed to arouse my father out of the depths of some reflection, + and he turned to the lawyer, Mr. Lewis. + </p> + <p> + “Gosford!” he echoed. + </p> + <p> + “He is behind this business, Pendleton,” the lawyer, Mr. Lewis, went on. + “Mark my word! He comes here when Marshall is dying; he forces his way to + the man's bed; he puts the servants out; he locks the door. Now, what + business had this Englishman with Marshall on his deathbed? What business + of a secrecy so close that Marshall's son is barred out by a locked door?” + </p> + <p> + He paused and twisted the seal ring on his finger. + </p> + <p> + “When you and I came to visit the sick man, Gosford was always here, as + though he kept a watch upon us, and when we left, he went always to this + room to write his letters, as he said. + </p> + <p> + “And more than this, Pendleton; Marshall is hardly in his grave before + Gosford writes me to inquire by what legal process the dead man's papers + may be examined for a will. And it is Gosford who sends a negro riding, as + if the devil were on the crupper, to summon me in the name of the + Commonwealth of Virginia,—to appear and examine into the + circumstances of this burglary. + </p> + <p> + “I mistrust the man. He used to hang about Marshall in his life, upon some + enterprise of secrecy; and now he takes possession and leadership in his + affairs, and sets the man's son aside. In what right, Pendleton, does this + adventurous Englishman feel himself secure?” + </p> + <p> + My father did not reply to Lewis's discourse. His comment was in another + quarter. + </p> + <p> + “Here is young Marshall and Gaeki,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer rose and came over to the window. + </p> + <p> + Two persons were advancing from the direction of the stables—a tall, + delicate boy, and a strange old man. The old man walked with a quick, + jerky, stride. It was the old country doctor Gaeki. And, unlike any other + man of his profession, he would work as long and as carefully on the body + of a horse as he would on the body of a man, snapping out his quaint + oaths, and in a stress of effort, as though he struggled with some + invisible creature for its prey. The negroes used to say that the devil + was afraid of Gaeki, and he might have been, if to disable a man or his + horse were the devil's will. But I think, rather, the negroes imagined the + devil to fear what they feared themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what could bring Gaeki here?” said Lewes. + </p> + <p> + “It was the horse that Gosford overheated in his race to you,” replied my + father. “I saw him stop in the road where the negro boy was leading the + horse about, and then call young Marshall.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no fault of young Marshall, Pendleton,” said the lawyer. “But, + also, he is no match for Gosford. He is a dilettante. He paints little + pictures after the fashion he learned in Paris, and he has no force or + vigor in him. His father was a dreamer, a wanderer, one who loved the + world and its frivolities, and the son takes that temperament, softened by + his mother. He ought to have a guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “He has one,” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + “A guardian!” repeated Lewis. “What court has appointed a guardian for + young Marshall?” + </p> + <p> + “A court,” replied my father, “that does not sit under the authority of + Virginia. The helpless, Lewis, in their youth and inexperience, are not + wholly given over to the spoiler.” + </p> + <p> + The boy they talked about was very young—under twenty, one would + say. He was blue-eyed and fair-haired, with thin, delicate features, which + showed good blood long inbred to the loss of vigor. He had the fine, open, + generous face of one who takes the world as in a fairy story. But now + there was care and anxiety in it, and a furtive shadow, as though the + lad's dream of life had got some rude awakening. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door behind my father and Lewis was thrown violently + open, and a man entered. He was a person with the manner of a barrister, + precise and dapper; he had a long, pink face, pale eyes, and a + close-cropped beard that brought out the hard lines of his mouth. He + bustled to the table, put down a sort of portfolio that held an inkpot, a + writing-pad and pens, and drew up a chair like one about to take the + minutes of a meeting. And all the while he apologized for his delay. He + had important letters to get off in the post, and to make sure, had + carried them to the tavern himself. + </p> + <p> + “And now, sirs, let us get about this business,” he finished, like one who + calls his assistants to a labor: + </p> + <p> + My father turned about and looked at the man. + </p> + <p> + “Is your name Gosford?” he said in his cold, level voice. + </p> + <p> + “It is, sir,” replied the Englishman, “—Anthony Gosford.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Anthony Gosford,” replied my father, “kindly close the door + that you have opened.” + </p> + <p> + Lewis plucked out his snuffbox and trumpeted in his many-colored + handkerchief to hide his laughter. + </p> + <p> + The Englishman, thrown off his patronizing manner, hesitated, closed the + door as he was bidden—and could not regain his fine air. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Gosford,” my father went on, “why was this room violated as we + see it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was searched for Peyton Marshall's will, sir,” replied the man. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know that Marshall had a will?” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him write it,” returned the Englishman, “here in this very room, on + the eighteenth day of October, 1854.” + </p> + <p> + “That was two years ago,” said my father. “Was the will here at Marshall's + death?” + </p> + <p> + “It was. He told me on his deathbed.” + </p> + <p> + “And it is gone now?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mr. Gosford,” said my father, “how do you know this will is gone + unless you also know precisely where it was?” + </p> + <p> + “I do know precisely where it was, sir,” returned the man. “It was in the + row of drawers on the right of the window where you stand—the second + drawer from the top. Mr. Marshall put it there when he wrote it, and he + told me on his deathbed that it remained there. You can see, sir, that the + drawer has been rifled.” + </p> + <p> + My father looked casually at the row of mahogany drawers rising along the + end of the bookcase. The second one and the one above were open; the + others below were closed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gosford,” he said, “you would have some interest in this will, to + know about it so precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “And so I have,” replied the man, “it left me a sum of money.” + </p> + <p> + “A large sum?” + </p> + <p> + “A very large sum, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Anthony Gosford,” said my father, “for what purpose did Peyton + Marshall bequeath you a large sum of money? You are no kin; nor was he in + your debt.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman sat down and put his fingers together with a judicial air. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he began, “I am not advised that the purpose of a bequest is + relevant, when the bequest is direct and unencumbered by the testator with + any indicatory words of trust or uses. This will bequeathes me a sum of + money. I am not required by any provision of the law to show the reasons + moving the testator. Doubtless, Mr. Peyton Marshall had reasons which he + deemed excellent for this course, but they are, sir, entombed in the grave + with him.” + </p> + <p> + My father looked steadily at the man, but he did not seem to consider his + explanation, nor to go any further on that line. + </p> + <p> + “Is there another who would know about this will?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “This effeminate son would know,” replied Gosford, a sneer in the epithet, + “but no other. Marshall wrote the testament in his own hand, without + witnesses, as he had the legal right to do under the laws of Virginia. The + lawyer,” he added, “Mr. Lewis, will confirm me in the legality of that.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the law,” said Lewis. “One may draw up a holograph will if he + likes, in his own hand, and it is valid without a witness in this State, + although the law does not so run in every commonwealth.” + </p> + <p> + “And now, sir,” continued the Englishman, turning to my father, “we will + inquire into the theft of this testament.” + </p> + <p> + But my father did not appear to notice Mr. Gosford. He seemed perplexed + and in some concern. + </p> + <p> + “Lewis,” he said, “what is your definition of a crime?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a violation of the law,” replied the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “I do not accept your definition,” said my father. “It is, rather, I + think, a violation of justice—a violation of something behind the + law that makes an act a crime. I think,” he went on, “that God must take a + broader view than Mr. Blackstone and Lord Coke. I have seen a murder in + the law that was, in fact, only a kind of awful accident, and I have seen + your catalogue of crimes gone about by feeble men with no intent except an + adjustment of their rights. Their crimes, Lewis, were merely errors of + their impractical judgment.” + </p> + <p> + Then he seemed to remember that the Englishman was present. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mr. Gosford,” he said, “will you kindly ask young Marshall to + come in here?” + </p> + <p> + The man would have refused, with some rejoinder, but my father was looking + at him, and he could not find the courage to resist my father's will. He + got up and went out, and presently returned followed by the lad and Gaeki. + The old country doctor sat down by the door, his leather case of bottles + by the chair, his cloak still fastened under his chin. Gosford went back + to the table and sat down with his writing materials to keep notes. The + boy stood. + </p> + <p> + My father looked a long time at the lad. His face was grave, but when he + spoke, his voice was gentle. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said, “I have had a good deal of experience in the + examination of the devil's work.” He paused and indicated the violated + room. “It is often excellently done. His disciples are extremely clever. + One's ingenuity is often taxed to trace out the evil design in it, and to + stamp it as a false piece set into the natural sequence of events.” + </p> + <p> + He paused again, and his big shoulders blotted out the window. + </p> + <p> + “Every natural event,” he continued, “is intimately connected with + innumerable events that precede and follow. It has so many serrated points + of contact with other events that the human mind is not able to fit a + false event so that no trace of the joinder will appear. The most skilled + workmen in the devil's shop are only able to give their false piece a + blurred joinder.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and turned to the row of mahogany drawers beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my boy,” he said, “can you tell me why the one who ransacked this + room, in opening and tumbling the contents of all the drawers, about, did + not open the two at the bottom of the row where I stand?” + </p> + <p> + “Because there was nothing in them of value, sir,” replied the lad. + </p> + <p> + “What is in them?” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “Only old letters, sir, written to my father, when I was in Paris—nothing + else.” + </p> + <p> + “And who would know that?” said my father. + </p> + <p> + The boy went suddenly white. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely!” said my father. “You alone knew it, and when you undertook to + give this library the appearance of a pillaged room, you unconsciously + endowed your imaginary robber with the thing you knew yourself. Why search + for loot in drawers that contained only old letters? So your imaginary + robber reasoned, knowing what you knew. But a real robber, having no such + knowledge, would have ransacked them lest he miss the things of value that + he searched for.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, his eyes on the lad, his voice deep and gentle. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the will?” he said. + </p> + <p> + The white in the boy's face changed to scarlet. He looked a moment about + him in a sort of terror; then he lifted his head and put back his + shoulders. He crossed the room to a bookcase, took down a volume, opened + it and brought out a sheet of folded foolscap. He stood up and faced my + father and the men about the room. + </p> + <p> + “This man,” he said, indicating Gosford, “has no right to take all my + father had. He persuaded my father and was trusted by him. But I did not + trust him. My father saw this plan in a light that I did not see it, but I + did not oppose him. If he wished to use his fortune to help our country in + the thing which he thought he foresaw, I was willing for him to do it. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he cried, “somebody deceived me, and I will not believe that it was + my father. He told me all about this thing. I had not the health to fight + for our country, when the time came, he said, and as he had no other son, + our fortune must go to that purpose in our stead. But my father was just. + He said that a portion would be set aside for me, and the remainder turned + over to Mr. Gosford. But this will gives all to Mr. Gosford and leaves me + nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Then he came forward and put the paper in my father's hand. There was + silence except for the sharp voice of Mr. Gosford. + </p> + <p> + “I think there will be a criminal proceeding here!” + </p> + <p> + My father handed the paper to Lewis, who unfolded it and read it aloud. It + directed the estate of Peyton Marshall to be sold, the sum of fifty + thousand dollars paid to Anthony Gosford and the remainder to the son. + </p> + <p> + “But there will be no remainder,” cried young Marshall. “My father's + estate is worth precisely that sum. He valued it very carefully, item by + item, and that is exactly the amount it came to.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless,” said Lewis, “the will reads that way. It is in legal form, + written in Marshall's hand, and signed with his signature, and sealed. + Will you examine it, gentlemen? There can be no question of the writing or + the signature.” + </p> + <p> + My father took the paper and read it slowly, and old Gaeki nosed it over + my father's arm, his eyes searching the structure of each word, while Mr. + Gosford sat back comfortably in his chair like one elevated to a victory. + </p> + <p> + “It is in Marshall's hand and signature,” said my father, and old Gaeki, + nodded, wrinkling his face under his shaggy eyebrows. He went away still + wagging his grizzled head, wrote a memorandum on an envelope from his + pocket, and sat down in, his chair. + </p> + <p> + My father turned now to young Marshall. + </p> + <p> + “My boy,” he said, “why do you say that some one has deceived you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, sir,” replied the lad, “my father was to leave me twenty + thousand dollars. That was his plan. Thirty thousand dollars should be set + aside for Mr. Gosford, and the remainder turned over to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, instead of fifty,” + said my father. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the boy; “that is the way my father said he would + write his will. But it was not written that way. It is fifty thousand + dollars to Mr. Gosford, and the remainder to me. If it were thirty + thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, as my father, said his will would be, + that would have left me twenty thousand dollars from the estate; but + giving Mr. Gosford fifty thousand dollars leaves me nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you adventured on a little larceny,” sneered the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + The boy stood very straight and white. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand this thing,” he said, “but I do not believe that my + father would deceive me. He never did deceive me in his life. I may have + been a disappointment to him, but my father was a gentle man.” His voice + went up strong and clear. “And I refuse to believe that he would tell me + one thing and do another!” + </p> + <p> + One could not fail to be impressed, or to believe that the boy spoke the + truth. + </p> + <p> + “We are sorry,” said Lewis, “but the will is valid and we cannot go behind + it.” + </p> + <p> + My father walked about the room, his face in reflection. Gosford sat at + his ease, transcribing a note on his portfolio. Old Gaeki had gone back to + his chair and to his little case of bottles; he got them up on his knees, + as though he would be diverted by fingering the tools of his profession. + Lewis was in plain distress, for he held the law and its disposition to be + inviolable; the boy stood with a find defiance, ennobled by the trust in + his father's honor. One could not take his stratagem for a criminal act; + he was only a child, for all his twenty years of life. And yet Lewis saw + the elements of crime, and he knew that Gosford was writing down the + evidence. + </p> + <p> + It was my father who broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Gosford,” he said, “what scheme were you and Marshall about?” + </p> + <p> + “You may wonder, sir,” replied the Englishman, continuing to write at his + notes; “I shall not tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I will tell you,” said the boy. “My father thought that the states in + this republic could not hold together very much longer. He believed that + the country would divide, and the South set up a separate government. He + hoped this might come about without a war. He was in horror of a war. He + had traveled; he had seen nations and read their history, and he knew what + civil wars were. I have heard him say that men did not realize what they + were talking when they urged war.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and looked at Gosford. + </p> + <p> + “My father was convinced that the South would finally set up an + independent government, but he hoped a war might not follow. He believed + that if this new government were immediately recognized by Great Britain, + the North would accept the inevitable and there would be no bloodshed. My + father went to England with this scheme. He met Mr. Gosford somewhere—on + the ship, I think. And Mr. Gosford succeeded in convincing my father that + if he had a sum of money he could win over certain powerful persons in the + English Government, and so pave the way to an immediate recognition of the + Southern Republic by Great Britain. He followed my father home and hung + about him, and so finally got his will. My father was careful; he wrote + nothing; Mr. Gosford wrote nothing; there is no evidence of this plan; but + my father told me, and it is true.” + </p> + <p> + My father stopped by the table and lifted his great shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “And so,” he said, “Peyton Marshall imagined a plan like that, and left + its execution to a Mr. Gosford!” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman put down his pen and addressed my father. + </p> + <p> + “I would advise you, sir, to require a little proof for your conclusions. + This is a very pretty story, but it is prefaced by an admission of no + evidence, and it comes as a special pleading for a criminal act. Now, sir, + if I chose, if the bequest required it, I could give a further + explanation, with more substance; of moneys borrowed by the decedent in + his travels and to be returned to me. But the will, sir, stands for + itself, as Mr. Lewis will assure you.” + </p> + <p> + Young Marshall looked anxiously at the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the law, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It is the law of Virginia,” said Lewis, “that a will by a competent + testator, drawn in form, requires no collateral explanation to support + it.” + </p> + <p> + My father seemed brought up in a cul-de-sac. His face was tense and + disturbed. He stood by the table; and now, as by accident, he put out his + hand and took up the Japanese crystal supported by the necks of the three + bronze storks. He appeared unconscious of the act, for he was in deep + reflection. Then, as though the weight in his hand drew his attention, he + glanced at the thing. Something about it struck him, for his manner + changed. He spread the will out on the table and began to move the crystal + over it, his face close to the glass. Presently his hand stopped, and he + stood stooped over, staring into the Oriental crystal, like those + practicers of black art who predict events from what they pretend to see + in these spheres of glass. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Gosford, sitting at his ease, in victory, regarded my father with a + supercilious, ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “are you, by chance, a fortuneteller?” + </p> + <p> + “A misfortune-teller,” replied my father, his face still held above the + crystal. “I see here a misfortune to Mr. Anthony Gosford. I predict, from + what I see, that he will release this bequest of moneys to Peyton + Marshall's son.” + </p> + <p> + “Your prediction, sir,” said Gosford, in a harder note, “is not likely to + come true.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” replied my father, “it is certain to come true. I see it very + clearly. Mr. Gosford will write out a release, under his hand and seal, + and go quietly out of Virginia, and Peyton Marshall's son will take his + entire estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the Englishman, now provoked into a temper, “do you enjoy this + foolery?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not interested in crystal-gazing, Mr. Gosford,” replied my father + in a tranquil voice. “Well, I find it most diverting. Permit me to piece + out your fortune, or rather your misfortune, Mr. Gosford! By chance you + fell in with this dreamer Marshall, wormed into his confidence, pretended + a relation to great men in England; followed and persuaded him until, in + his ill-health, you got this will. You saw it written two years ago. When + Marshall fell ill, you hurried here, learned from the dying man that the + will remained and where it was. You made sure by pretending to write + letters in this room, bringing your portfolio with ink and pen and a pad + of paper. Then, at Marshall's death, you inquired of Lewis for legal + measures to discover the dead man's will. And when you find the room + ransacked, you run after the law.” + </p> + <p> + My father paused. + </p> + <p> + “That is your past, Mr. Gosford. Now let me tell your future. I see you in + joy at the recovered will. I see you pleased at your foresight in getting + a direct bequest, and at the care you urged on Marshall to leave no + evidence of his plan, lest the authorities discover it. For I see, Mr. + Gosford, that it was your intention all along to keep this sum of money + for your own use and pleasure. But alas, Mr. Gosford, it was not to be! I + see you writing this release; and Mr. Gosford”—my father's voice + went up full and strong,—“I see you writing it in terror—sweat + on your face!” + </p> + <p> + “The Devil take your nonsense!” cried the Englishman. + </p> + <p> + My father stood up with a twisted, ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “If you doubt my skill, Mr. Gosford, as a fortune, or rather a + misfortune-teller I will ask Mr. Lewis and Herman Gaeki to tell me what + they see.” + </p> + <p> + The two men crossed the room and stooped over the paper, while my father + held the crystal. The manner and the bearing of the men changed. They grew + on the instant tense and fired with interest. + </p> + <p> + “I see it!” said the old doctor, with a queer foreign expletive. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” cried Lewis, “see something more than Pendleton's vision. I see + the penitentiary in the distance.” + </p> + <p> + The Englishman sprang up with an oath and leaned across the table. Then he + saw the thing. + </p> + <p> + My father's hand held the crystal above the figures of the bequest written + in the body of the will. The focused lens of glass magnified to a great + diameter, and under the vast enlargement a thing that would escape the eye + stood out. The top curl of a figure 3 had been erased, and the bar of a 5 + added. One could see the broken fibers of the paper on the outline of the + curl, and the bar of the five lay across the top of the three and the top + of the o behind it like a black lath tacked across two uprights. + </p> + <p> + The figure 3 had been changed to 5 so cunningly is to deceive the eye, but + not to deceive the vast magnification of the crystal. The thing stood out + big and crude like a carpenter's patch. + </p> + <p> + Gosford's face became expressionless like wood, his body rigid; then he + stood up and faced the three men across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so!” he said in his vacuous English voice. “Marshall wrote a 3 by + inadvertence and changed it. He borrowed my penknife to erase the figure.” + </p> + <p> + My father and Lewis gaped like men who see a penned-in beast slip out + through an unimagined passage. There was silence. Then suddenly, in the + strained stillness of the room, old Doctor Gaeki laughed. + </p> + <p> + Gosford lifted his long pink face, with its cropped beard bringing out the + ugly mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you laugh, my good man?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I laugh,” replied Gaeki, “because a figure 5 can have so many colors.” + </p> + <p> + And now my father and Lewis were no less astonished than Mr. Gosford. + </p> + <p> + “Colors!” they said, for the changed figure in the will was black. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” replied the old man, “it is very pretty.” + </p> + <p> + He reached across the table and drew over Mr. Gosford's memorandum beside + the will. + </p> + <p> + “You are progressive, sir,” he went on; “you write in iron-nutgall ink, + just made, commercially, in this year of fifty-six by Mr. Stephens. But we + write here as Marshall wrote in 'fifty-four, with logwood.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and fumbled in his little case of bottles. + </p> + <p> + “I carry a bit of acid for my people's indigestions. It has other uses.” + He whipped out the stopper of his vial and dabbed Gosford's notes and + Marshall's signature. + </p> + <p> + “See!” he cried. “Your writing is blue, Mr. Gosford, and Marshall's red!” + </p> + <p> + With an oath the trapped man struck at Gaeki's hand. The vial fell and + cracked on the table. The hydrochloric acid spread out over Marshall's + will. And under the chemical reagent the figure in the bequest of fifty + thousand dollars changed beautifully; the bar of the 5 turned blue, and + the remainder of it a deep purple-red like the body of the will. + </p> + <p> + “Gaeki,” cried my father, “you have trapped a rogue!” + </p> + <p> + “And I have lost a measure of good acid,” replied the old man. And he + began to gather up the bits of his broken bottle from the table. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. The Hole in the Mahogany Panel + </h2> + <p> + Sir Henry paused a moment, his finger between the pages of the ancient + diary. + </p> + <p> + “It is the inspirational quality in these cases,” he said, “that impresses + me. It is very nearly absent in our modern methods of criminal + investigation. We depend now on a certain formal routine. I rarely find a + man in the whole of Scotland Yard with a trace of intuitive impulse to + lead him.... Observe how this old justice in Virginia bridged the gaps + between his incidents.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “We call it the inspirational instinct, in criminal investigation ... + genius, is the right word.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “We have an hour, yet, before the opera will be worth hearing; listen to + this final case.” + </p> + <p> + The narrative of the diary follows: + </p> + <p> + The girl was walking in the road. Her frock was covered with dust. Her + arms hung limp. Her face with the great eyes and the exquisite mouth was + the chalk face of a ghost. She walked with the terrible stiffened celerity + of a human creature when it is trapped and ruined. + </p> + <p> + Night was coming on. Behind the girl sat the great old house at the end of + a long lane of ancient poplars. + </p> + <p> + This was a strange scene my father came on. He pulled up his big red-roan + horse at the crossroads, where the long lane entered the turnpike, and + looked at the stiff, tragic figure. He rode home from a sitting of the + county justices, alone, at peace, on this midsummer night, and God sent + this tragic thing to meet him. + </p> + <p> + He got down and stood under the crossroads signboard beside his horse. + </p> + <p> + The earth was dry; in dust. The dead grass and the dead leaves made a + sere, yellow world. It looked like a land of unending summer, but a breath + of chill came out of the hollows with the sunset. + </p> + <p> + The girl would have gone on, oblivious. But my father went down into the + road and took her by the arm. She stopped when she saw who it was, and + spoke in the dead, uninflected voice of a person in extremity. + </p> + <p> + “Is the thing a lie?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What thing, child?” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + “The thing he told me!” + </p> + <p> + “Dillworth?” said my father. “Do you mean Hambleton Dillworth?” + </p> + <p> + The girl put out her free arm in a stiff, circling gesture. “In all the + world,” she said, “is there any other man who would have told me?” + </p> + <p> + My father's face hardened as if of metal. “What did he tell you?” + </p> + <p> + The girl spoke plainly, frankly, in her dead voice, without equivocation, + with no choice of words to soften what she said: + </p> + <p> + “He said that my father was not dead; that I was the daughter of a thief; + that what I believed about my father was all made up to save the family + name; that the truth was my father robbed him, stole his best horse and + left the country when I was a baby. He said I was a burden on him, a + pensioner, a drone; and to go and seek my father.” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly she broke into a flood of tears. Her face pressed against my + father's shoulder. He took her up in his big arms and got into his saddle. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” he said, “let us take Hambleton Dillworth at his word.” + </p> + <p> + And he turned the horse into the lane toward the ancient house. The girl + in my father's arms made no resistance. There was this dominating quality + in the man that one trusted to him and followed behind him. She lay in his + arms, the tears wetting her white face and the long lashes. + </p> + <p> + The moon came up, a great golden moon, shouldered over the rim of the + world by the backs of the crooked elves. The horse and the two persons + made a black, distorted shadow that jerked along as though it were a thing + evil and persistent. Far off in the thickets of the hills an owl cried, + eerie and weird like a creature in some bitter sorrow. The lane was deep + with dust. The horse traveled with no sound, and the distorted black + shadow followed, now blotted out by the heavy tree tops, and now only + partly to be seen, but always there. + </p> + <p> + My father got down at the door and carried the girl up the steps and + between the plaster pillars into the house. There was a hall paneled in + white wood and with mahogany doors. He opened one of these doors and went + in. The room he entered had been splendid in some ancient time. It was + big; the pieces in it were exquisite; great mirrors and old portraits were + on the wall. + </p> + <p> + A man sitting behind a table got up when my father entered. Four tallow + candles, in ancient silver sticks, were on the table, and some sheets with + figured accounts. + </p> + <p> + The man who got up was like some strange old child. He wore a number of + little capes to hide his humped back, and his body, one thought, under his + clothes was strapped together. He got on his feet nimbly like a spider, + and they heard the click of a pistol lock as he whipped the weapon out of + an open drawer, as though it were a habit thus always to keep a weapon at + his hand to make him equal in stature with other men. Then he saw who it + was and the double-barreled pistol slipped out of sight. He was startled + and apprehensive, but he was not in fear. + </p> + <p> + He stood motionless behind the table, his head up, his eyes hard, his thin + mouth closed like a trap and his long, dead black hair hanging on each + side of his lank face over the huge, malformed ears. The man stood thus, + unmoving, silent, with his twisted ironical smile, while my father put the + girl into a chair and stood up behind it. + </p> + <p> + “Dillworth,” said my father, “what do you mean by turning this child out + of the house?” + </p> + <p> + The man looked steadily at the two persons before him. + </p> + <p> + “Pendleton,” he said, and he spoke precisely, “I do not recognize the + right of you, or any other man, to call my acts into account; however”—and + he made a curious gesture with his extended hands “not at your command, + but at my pleasure, I will tell you. + </p> + <p> + “This young woman had some estate from her mother at that lady's death. As + her guardian I invested it by permission of the court's decree.” He + paused. “When the Maxwell lands were sold before the courthouse I bid them + in for my ward. The judge confirmed this use of the guardian funds. It was + done upon advice of counsel and within the letter of the law. Now it + appears that Maxwell had only a life interest in these lands; Maxwell is + dead, and one who has purchased the interest of his heirs sues in the + courts for this estate. + </p> + <p> + “This new claimant will recover; since one who buys at a judicial sale, I + find, buys under the doctrine of caveat emptor—that is to say, at + his peril. He takes his chance upon the title. The court does not insure + it. If it is defective he loses both the money and the lands. And so,” he + added, “my ward will have no income to support her, and I decline to + assume that burden.” + </p> + <p> + My father looked the hunchback in the face. “Who is the man bringing this + suit at law?” + </p> + <p> + “A Mr. Henderson, I believe,” replied Dillworth, “from Maryland.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of him,” replied the hunchback. + </p> + <p> + The girl, huddled in the chair, interrupted. “I have seen letters,” she + said, “come in here with this man's return address at Baltimore written on + the envelope.” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback made an irrelevant gesture. “The man wrote—to inquire + if I would buy his title. I declined.” Then he turned to my father. + “Pendleton,” he said, “you know about this matter. You know that every + step I took was legal. And with pains and care how I got an order out of + chancery to make this purchase, and how careful I was to have this + guardianship investment confirmed by the court. No affair was ever done so + exactly within the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Why were you so extremely careful?” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “Because I wanted the safeguard of the law about me at every step,” + replied the man. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me that, Pendleton?”' cried the man. “Is not the wisdom of my + precautions evident? I took them to prevent this very thing; to protect + myself when this thing should happen!” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said my father, “you knew it was going to happen.” + </p> + <p> + The man's eyes slipped about a moment in his head. “I knew it was going to + happen that I would be charged with all sorts of crimes and misdemeanors + if there should be any hooks on which to hang them. Because a man locks + his door is it proof that he knows a robber is on the way? Human foresight + and the experience of men move prudent persons to a reasonable precaution + in the conduct of affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is it,” said my father, “that moves them to an excessive + caution?” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback snapped his fingers with an exasperated gesture. “I will not + be annoyed by your big, dominating manner!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + My father was not concerned by this defiance. “Dillworth,” he said, “you + sent this child out to seek her father. Well, she took the right road to + find him.” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback stepped back quickly, his face changed. He sat down in his + chair and looked up at my father. There was here suddenly uncovered + something that he had not looked for. And he talked to gain time. + </p> + <p> + “I have cast up the accounts in proper form,” he said while he studied my + father, his hand moving the figured sheets. “They are correct and settled + before two commissioners in chancery. Taking out my commission as + guardian, the amounts allowed me for the maintenance and education of the + ward, and no dollar of this personal estate remains.” + </p> + <p> + His long, thin hand with the nimble fingers turned the sheets over on the + table as though to conclude that phase of the affair. + </p> + <p> + “The real property,” he continued, “will return nothing; the purchase + money was applied on Maxwell's debts and cannot be followed. This new + claimant, Henderson, who has bought up the outstanding title, will take + the land.” + </p> + <p> + “For some trifling sum,” said my father. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback nodded slowly, his eyes in a study of my father's face. + </p> + <p> + “Doubtless,” he said, “it was not known that Maxwell had only a life + estate in the lands, and the remainder to the heirs was likely purchased + for some slight amount. The language of the deeds that Henderson exhibits + in his suit shows a transfer of all claim or title, as though he bought a + thing which the grantees thought lay with the uncertainties of a decree in + chancery.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen the deeds,” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the hunchback, “you know they are valid, and transfer the + title.” He paused. “I have no doubt that Mr. Henderson assembled these + outstanding interests at no great cost, but his conveyances are in form + and legal.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything connected with this affair,” said my father, “is strangely + legal!” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback considered my father through his narrow eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “It is a strange world,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied my father. “It is profoundly, inconceivably strange.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment of silence. The two men regarded each other across the + half-length of the room. The girl sat in the chair. She had got back her + courage. The big, forceful presence of my father, like the shadow of a + great rock, was there behind her. She had the fine courage of her blood, + and, after the first cruel shock of this affair, she faced the tragedies + that might lie within it calmly. + </p> + <p> + Shadows lay along the walls of the great room, along the gilt frames of + the portraits, the empty fireplace, the rosewood furniture of ancient make + and the oak floor. Only the hunchback was in the light, behind the four + candles on the table. + </p> + <p> + “It was strange,” continued my father over the long pause, “that your + father's will discovered at his death left his lands to you, and no acre + to your brother David.” + </p> + <p> + “Not strange,” replied the hunchback, “when you consider what my brother + David proved to be. My father knew him. What was hidden from us, what the + world got no hint of, what the man was in the deep and secret places of + his heart, my father knew. Was it strange, then, that he should leave the + lands to me?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a will drawn by an old man in his senility, and under your + control.” + </p> + <p> + “Under my care,” cried the hunchback. “I will plead guilty, if you like, + to that. I honored my father. I was beside his bed with loving-kindness, + while my brother went about the pleasures of his life.” + </p> + <p> + “But the testament,” said my father, “was in strange terms. It bequeathed + the lands to you, with no mention of the personal property, as though + these lands were all the estate your father had.” + </p> + <p> + “And so they were,” replied the hunchback calmly. “The lands had been + stripped of horse and steer, and every personal item, and every dollar in + hand or debt owing to my father before his death.” The man paused and put + the tips of his fingers together. “My father had given to my brother so + much money from these sources, from time to time, that he justly left me + the lands to make us even.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father was senile and for five years in his bed. It was you, + Dillworth, who cleaned the estate of everything but land.” + </p> + <p> + “I conducted my father's business,” said the hunchback, “for him, since he + was ill. But I put the moneys from these sales into his hand and he gave + them to my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never heard that your brother David got a dollar of this money.” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback was undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + “It was a family matter and not likely to be known.” + </p> + <p> + “I see it,” said my father. “It was managed in your legal manner and with + cunning foresight. You took the lands only in the will, leaving the + impression to go out that your brother had already received his share in + the personal estate by advancement. It was shrewdly done. But there + remained one peril in it: If any personal property should appear under the + law you would be required to share it equally with your brother David.” + </p> + <p> + “Or rather,” replied the hunchback calmly, “to state the thing correctly, + my brother David would be required to share any discovered personal + property with me.” Then he added: “I gave my brother David a hundred + dollars for his share in the folderol about the premises, and took + possession of the house and lands.” + </p> + <p> + “And after that,” said my father, “what happened?” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback uttered a queerly inflected expletive, like a bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “After that,” he answered, “we saw the real man in my brother David, as my + father, old and dying, had so clearly seen it. After that he turned thief + and fugitive.” + </p> + <p> + At the words the girl in the chair before my father rose. She stood beside + him, her lithe figure firm, her chin up, her hair spun darkness. The + courage, the fine, open, defiant courage of the first women of the world, + coming with the patriarchs out of Asia, was in her lifted face. My father + moved as though he would stop the hunchback's cruel speech. But she put + her fingers firmly on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “He has gone so far,” she said, “let him go on to the end. Let him omit no + word, let us hear every ugly thing the creature has to say.” + </p> + <p> + Dillworth sat back in his chair at ease, with a supercilious smile. He + passed the girl and addressed my father. + </p> + <p> + “You will recall the details of that robbery,” he said in his complacent, + piping voice. “My brother David had married a wife, like the guest invited + in the Scriptures. A child was born. My brother lived with his wife's + people in their house. One night he came to me to borrow money.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and pointed his long index finger through the doorway and across + the hall. + </p> + <p> + “It was in my father's room that I received him. It did not please me to + put money into his hands. But I admonished him with wise counsel. He did + not receive my words with a proper brotherly regard. He flared up in + unmanageable anger. He damned me with reproaches, said I had stolen his + inheritance, poisoned his father's mind against him and slipped into the + house and lands. 'Pretentious and perfidious' is what he called me. I was + firm and gentle. But he grew violent and a thing happened.” + </p> + <p> + The man put up his hand and moved it along in the air above the table. + </p> + <p> + “There was a secretary beside the hearth in my father's room. It was an + old piece with drawers below and glass doors above. These doors had not + been opened for many years, for there was nothing on the shelves behind + them—one could see that—except some rows of the little wooden + boxes that indigo used to be sold in at the country stores.” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback paused as though to get the details of his story precisely + in relation. + </p> + <p> + “I sat at my father's table in the middle of the room. My brother David + was a great, tall man, like Saul. In his anger, as he gesticulated by the + hearth, his elbow crashed through the glass door of this secretary; the + indigo boxes fell, burst open on the floor, and a hidden store of my + father's money was revealed. The wooden boxes were full of gold pieces!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and passed his fingers over his projecting chin. + </p> + <p> + “I was in fear, for I was alone in the house. Every negro was at a distant + frolic. And I was justified in that fear. My brother leaped on me, struck + me a stunning blow on the chest over the heart, gathered up the gold, took + my horse and fled. At daybreak the negroes found me on the floor, + unconscious. Then you came, Pendleton. The negroes had washed up the + litter from the hearth where the indigo about the coins in the boxes had + been shaken out.” + </p> + <p> + My father interrupted: + </p> + <p> + “The negroes said the floor had been scrubbed when they found you.” + </p> + <p> + “They were drunk,” continued the hunchback with no concern. “And, does one + hold a drunken negro to his fact? But you saw for yourself the wooden + boxes, round, three inches high, with tin lids, and of a diameter to hold + a stack of golden eagles, and you saw the indigo still sticking about the + sides of these boxes where the coins had lain.” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” replied my father. “I observed it carefully, for I thought the + gold pieces might turn up sometime, and the blue indigo stain might be on + them when they first appeared.” + </p> + <p> + Dillworth leaned far back in his chair, his legs tangled under him, his + eyes on my father, in reflection. Finally he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You are far-sighted,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Or God is,” replied my father, and, stepping over to the table, he spun a + gold piece on the polished surface of the mahogany board. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback watched the yellow disk turn and flit and wabble on its base + and flutter down with its tingling reverberations. + </p> + <p> + “To-day, when I rode into the county seat to a sitting of the justices,” + continued my father, “the sheriff showed me some gold eagles that your man + from Maryland, Mr. Henderson, had paid in on court costs. Look, Dillworth, + there is one of them, and with your thumb nail on the milled edge you can + scrape off the indigo!” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback looked at the spinning coin, but he did not touch it. His + head, with its long, straight hair, swung a moment uncertain between his + shoulders. Then, swiftly and with a firm grip, he took his resolution. + </p> + <p> + “The coins appear,” he said. “My brother David must be in Baltimore behind + this suit.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not in Baltimore,” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you know where he is,” cried the hunchback, “since you speak with + such authority.” + </p> + <p> + “I do know where he is,” said my father in his deep, level voice. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback got on his feet slowly beside his chair. And the girl came + into the protection of my father's arm, her features white like plaster; + but the fiber in her blood was good and she stood up to face the thing + that might be coming. After the one long abandonment to tears in my + father's saddle she had got herself in hand. She had gone, like the + princes of the blood, through the fire, and the dross of weakness was + burned out. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback got on his feet, in position like a duelist, his hard, + bitter face turned slantwise toward my father. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he said, “if you know where David is you will take his daughter to + him, if you please, and rid my house of the burden of her.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall go to him,” said my father slowly, “but he shall not return to + us.” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback's eyes blinked and bated in the candlelight. + </p> + <p> + “You quote the Scriptures,” he said. “Is David in a grave?” + </p> + <p> + “He is not,” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback seemed to advance like a duelist who parries the first + thrust of his opponent. But my father met him with an even voice. + </p> + <p> + “Dillworth,” he said, “it was strange that no man ever saw your brother or + the horse after the night he visited you in this house.” + </p> + <p> + “It was dark,” replied the man. “He rode from this door through the gap in + the mountains into Maryland.” + </p> + <p> + “He rode from this door,” said my father slowly, “but not through the gap + in the mountains into Maryland.” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback began to twist his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Where did he ride then? A man and a horse could not vanish.” + </p> + <p> + “They did vanish,” said my father. + </p> + <p> + “Now you utter fool talk!” cried Dillworth. + </p> + <p> + “I speak the living truth,” replied my father. “Your brother David and + your horse disappeared out of sound and hearing—disappeared out of + the sight and knowledge of men—after he rode away from your door on + that fatal night.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the hunchback, “since my brother David rode away from my door—and + you know that—I am free of obligation for him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is Cain's speech!” replied my father. + </p> + <p> + The hunchback put back his long hair with a swift brush of the fingers + across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Dillworth,” cried my father, and his voice filled the empty places of the + room, “is the mark there?” + </p> + <p> + The hunchback began to curse. He walked around my father and the girl, the + hair about his lank jaws, his fingers working, his face evil. In his front + and menace he was like a weasel that would attack some larger creature. + And while he made the great turn of his circle my father, with his arm + about the girl, stepped before the drawer of the table where the pistol + lay. + </p> + <p> + “Dillworth,” he said calmly, “I know where he is. And the mark you felt + for just now ought to be there.” + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” cried the hunchback. “If I killed him how could he ride away from + the door?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a thing that puzzled me,” replied my father, “when I stood in this + house on the morning of your pretended robbery. I knew what had happened. + But I thought it wiser to let the evil thing remain a mystery, rather than + unearth it to foul your family name and connect this child in gossip for + all her days with a crime.” + </p> + <p> + “With a thief,” snarled the man. + </p> + <p> + “With a greater criminal than a thief,” replied My father. “I was not + certain about this gold on that morning when you showed me the empty + boxes. They were too few to hold gold enough for such a motive. I thought + a quarrel and violent hot blood were behind the thing; and for that reason + I have been silent. But now, when the coins turn up, I see that the thing + was all ruthless, cold-blooded love of money. + </p> + <p> + “I know what happened in that room. When your brother David struck the old + secretary with his elbow, and the dozen indigo boxes fell and burst open + on the hearth, you thought a great hidden treasure was uncovered. You + thought swiftly. You had got the land by undue influence on your senile + father, and you did not have to share that with your brother David. But + here was a treasure you must share; you saw it in a flash. You sat at your + father's table in the room. Your brother stood by the wall looking at the + hearth. And you acted then, on the moment, with the quickness of the Evil + One. It was cunning in you to select the body over the heart as the place + to receive the imagined blow—the head or face would require some + evidential mark to affirm your word. And it was cunning to think of the + unconscious, for in that part one could get up and scrub the hearth and + lie down again to play it.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “But the other thing you did in that room was not so clever. A picture was + newly hung on the wall—I saw the white square on the opposite wall + from which it had been taken. It hung at the height of a man's shoulders + directly behind the spot where your brother must have stood after he + struck the secretary, and it hung in this new spot to cover the crash of a + bullet into the mahogany panel!” + </p> + <p> + My father stopped and caught up the hunchback's double-barreled pistol out + of the empty drawer. + </p> + <p> + The room was now illumined; the moon had got above the tree tops and its + light slanted in through the long windows. The hunchback saw the thing and + he paused; his face worked in the fantastic light. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued my father, in his deep, quiet voice, “this is your + mistake to-night—to let me get your weapon. Your mistake that other + night was to shoot before you counted the money. It was only a few hundred + dollars. The dozen wooden boxes would hold no great sum. But the thing was + done, and you must cover it.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “And you did cover it—with fiendish cunning. It would not do for + your brother to vanish from your house, alone and with no motive. But if + he disappeared, with the gold to take him and a horse to ride, the + explanation would have solid feet to go on. I give you credit here for the + ingenuity of Satan. You managed the thing. You caused your brother David + and the horse to vanish. I saw, on that morning, the tracks of the horse + where you led him from the stable to the door, and his tracks where you + led him, holding the dead man in the saddle, from the door to the ancient + orchard where the grass grows over the fallen-down chimney of your + grandsire's house. And there, at your cunning, they wholly vanished.” + </p> + <p> + The mad courage in the hunchback got control, and he began to advance on + my father with no weapon and with no hope to win. His fingers crooked, his + body in a bow, his wizen, cruel face pallid in the ghostly light. + </p> + <p> + “Dillworth,” cried my father, in a great voice, like one who would startle + a creature out of mania, “you will write a deed in your legal manner + granting these lands to your brother's child. And after that”—his + words were like the blows of a hammer on an anvil—“I will give you + until daybreak to vanish out of our sight and hearing—through the + gap in the mountains into Maryland on your horse, as you say your brother + David went, or into the abandoned cistern in the ancient orchard where he + lies under the horse that you shot and tumbled in on his murdered body!” + </p> + <p> + The moon was now above the gable of the house. The candles were burned + down. They guttered around the sheet of foolscap wet with the scrawls and + splashes of Dillworth's quill. My father stood at a window looking out, + the girl in a flood of tears, relaxed and helpless, in the protection of + his arm. + </p> + <p> + And far down the long turnpike, white like an expanded ribbon, the + hunchback rode his great horse in a gallop, perched like a monkey, his + knees doubled, his head bobbing, his loose body rolling in the saddle—while + the black, distorted shadow that had followed my father into this tragic + house went on before him like some infernal messenger convoying the rider + to the Pit. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. The End of the Road + </h2> + <p> + The man laughed. + </p> + <p> + It was a faint cynical murmur of a laugh. Its expression hardly disturbed + the composition of his features. + </p> + <p> + “I fear, Lady Muriel,” he said, “that your profession is ruined. Our + friend—'over the water'—is no longer concerned about the + affairs of England.” + </p> + <p> + The woman fingered at her gloves, turning them back about the wrists. Her + face was anxious and drawn. + </p> + <p> + “I am rather desperately in need of money,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The cynicism deepened in the man's face. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately,” he replied, “a supply of money cannot be influenced by + the intensity of one's necessity for it.” + </p> + <p> + He was a man indefinite in age. His oily black hair was brushed carefully + back. His clothes were excellent, with a precise detail. Everything about + him was conspicuously correct in the English fashion. But the man was not + English. One could not say from what race he came. Among the races of + Southern Europe he could hardly have been distinguished. There was a + chameleon quality strongly dominant in the creature. + </p> + <p> + The woman looked up quickly, as in a strong aversion. + </p> + <p> + “What shall you do?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I?” + </p> + <p> + The man glanced about the room. There was a certain display within the + sweep of his vision. Some rugs of great value, vases and bronzes; genuine + and of extreme age. He made a careless gesture with his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I shall explore some ruins in Syria, and perhaps the aqueduct which the + French think carried a water supply to the Carthage of Hanno. It will be + convenient to be beyond British inquiry for some years to come; and after + all, I am an antiquarian, like Prosper Merimee.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Muriel continued to finger her gloves. They had been cleaned and the + cryptic marks of the shopkeeper were visible along the inner side of the + wrist hem. This was, to the woman, the first subterfuge of decaying + smartness. When a woman began to send her gloves to the laundry she was on + her way down. Other evidences were not entirely lacking in the woman's + dress, but they were not patent to the casual eye. Lady Muriel was still, + to the observer, of the gay top current in the London world. + </p> + <p> + The woman followed the man's glance about the room. + </p> + <p> + “You must be rich, Hecklemeir,” she said. “Lend me a hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed again in his queer chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no, my Lady,” he replied, “I do not lend.” Then he added. + </p> + <p> + “If you have anything of value, bring it to me.... not information from + the ministry, and not war plans; the trade in such commodities is ended.” + </p> + <p> + It was the woman's turn to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The shopkeepers in Oxford Street have been before you, Baron.. .. I've + nothing to sell.” + </p> + <p> + Hecklemeir smiled, kneading his pudgy hands. + </p> + <p> + “It will be hard to borrow,” he said. “Money is very dear to the Britisher + just now—right against his heart.... Still.... perhaps one's family + could be thumb screwed......An elderly relative with no children would be + the most favorable, I think. Have you got such a relative concealed + somewhere in a nook of London? Think about it. If you could recall one, he + would be like a buried nut.” + </p> + <p> + The man paused; then he added, with the offensive chuckling laugh: + </p> + <p> + “Go to such an one, Lady Muriel. Who shall turn aside from virtue in + distress? Perhaps, in the whole of London, I alone have the brutality—shall + we call it—to resist that spectacle.” + </p> + <p> + The woman rose. Her face was now flushed and angry. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know of any form of brutality in which you do not excel, + Hecklemeir,” she said. “I have a notion to, go to Scotland Yard with the + whole story of your secret traffic.” + </p> + <p> + The man continued to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my Lady,” he replied, “we are coupled together. Scotland Yard would + hardly separate us.... you could scarcely manage to drown me and, keep + afloat yourself. Dismiss the notion; it is from the pit.” + </p> + <p> + There was no virtue in her threat as the woman knew. Already her mind was + on the way that Hecklemeir had ironically suggested—an elderly + relative, with no children, from whom one might borrow,—she valued + the ramifications of her family, running out to the remote, withered + branches of that noble tree. She appraised the individuals and rejected + them. + </p> + <p> + Finally her searching paused. + </p> + <p> + There was her father's brother who had gone in for science—deciding + against the army and the church—Professor Bramwell Winton, the + biologist. He lived somewhere toward Covent Garden. + </p> + <p> + She had not thought of him for years. Occasionally his name appeared in + some note issued by the museum, or a college at Oxford. + </p> + <p> + For almost four years she had been relieved of this thought about one's + family. The one “over the water” for whom Hecklemeir had stolen the + Scottish toast to designate, had paid lavishly for what she could find + out. + </p> + <p> + She had been richly, for these four years, in funds. + </p> + <p> + The habit was established of dipping her hand into the dish. And now to + find the dish empty appalled her. She could not believe that it was empty. + She had come again, and again to this apartment above the shops in Regent + Street, selected for its safety of ingress; a modiste and a hairdresser on + either side of a narrow flight of steps. + </p> + <p> + A carriage could stop here; one could be seen here. + </p> + <p> + Even on the right, above, at the landing of the flight of steps Nance + Coleen altered evening gowns with the skill of one altering the plumage of + the angels. It must have cost the one “over the water” a pretty penny to + keep this whole establishment running through four years of war. + </p> + <p> + She spoke finally. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a directory of London, Hecklemeir?” + </p> + <p> + The man had been watching her closely. + </p> + <p> + “If it is Scotland Yard, my Lady,” he said, “you will not require a + direction. I can give you the address. It is on the Embankment, near...” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, Hecklemeir,” she interrupted, and taking the book from + his hands, she whipped through the pages, got the address she sought, and + went out onto the narrow landing and down the steps into Regent Street: + </p> + <p> + She took a hansom. + </p> + <p> + With some concern she examined the contents of her purse. There was a + guinea, a half crown and some shillings in it—the dust of the bin. + And her profession, as Hecklemeir had said, was ended. + </p> + <p> + She leaned over, like a man, resting her arms on the closed doors. + </p> + <p> + The future looked troublous. Money was the blood current in the life she + knew. It was the vital element. It must be got. + </p> + <p> + And thus far she had been lucky. + </p> + <p> + Even in this necessity Bramwell Winton had emerged, when she could not + think of any one. He would not have much. These scientific creatures never + accumulated money, but he would have a hundred pounds. He had no wife or + children to scatter the shillings of his income. + </p> + <p> + True these creatures spent a good deal on the absurd rubbish of their + hobbies. But they got money sometimes, not by thrift but by a sort of + chance. Had not one of them, Sir Isaac Martin, found the lost mines from + which the ancient civilization of Syria drew its supply of copper. And + Hector Bartlett, little more than a mummy in the Museum, had gone one fine + day into Asia and dug up the gold plates that had roofed a temple of the + Sun. + </p> + <p> + He had been shown in the drawing rooms, on his return, and she had stopped + a moment to look him over—he was a sort of mummy. She was not hoping + to find Bramwell Winton one of these elect. But he was a hive that had not + been plundered. + </p> + <p> + She reflected, sitting bent forward in the hansom, her face determined and + unchanging. She did not undertake to go forward beyond the hundred pounds. + Something would turn up. She was lucky... others had gone to the tower; + gone before the firing squad for lesser activities in what Hecklemeir + called her profession, but she had floated through... carrying what she + gleaned to the paymaster. Was it skill, or was she a child of Fortune? + </p> + <p> + And like every gambler, like every adventurer in a life of hazard, she + determined for the favorite of some immense Fatality. + </p> + <p> + It was an old house she came to, built in the prehistoric age of London, + with thick, heavy walls, one of a row, deadly in its monotony. The row was + only partly tenanted. + </p> + <p> + She dismissed the hansom and got out. + </p> + <p> + It was a moment before she found the number. The houses adjoining on + either side were empty, the windows were shuttered. One might have + considered the middle house with the two, for its step was unscrubbed, and + it presented unwashed windows. + </p> + <p> + It was a heavy, deep-walled structure like a monument. Even the street in + the vicinity was empty. If the biologist had been seeking an undisturbed + quarter of London, he had, beyond doubt, found it here. + </p> + <p> + There was a bridged-over court before the house. Lady Muriel crossed. She + paused before the door. There had been a bell pull in the wall, but the + brass handle was broken and only the wire remained. + </p> + <p> + She was uncertain whether one was supposed to pull this wire, and in the + hesitation she took hold of the door latch. To her surprise the door + yielded, and following the impulse of her extended hand, she went in. + </p> + <p> + The hall was empty. There was no servant to be seen. And immediately the + domestic arrangement of the biologist were clear to her. They would be + that of one who had a cleaning woman in on certain days, and so lived + alone. She was not encouraged by this economy, and yet such a custom in a + man like Bramwell Winton might be habit. + </p> + <p> + The scientist, in the popular conception, was not concerned with the + luxury of life—they were a rum lot. + </p> + <p> + But the house was not empty. A smart hat and stick were in the rack and + from what should be a drawing room, above, there descended faintly the + sound of voices. + </p> + <p> + It seemed ridiculous to Lady Muriel to go out and struggle with the broken + bell wire. She would go up, now that she had entered, and announce + herself, since, in any event, it must come to that. + </p> + <p> + The heavy oak door closed without a sound, as it had opened. Lady Muriel + went up the stairway. She had nothing to put down. The only thing she + carried was a purse, and lest it should appear suggestive—as of one + coming with his empty wallet in his hand—she tucked the gold mesh + into the bosom of her jacket. + </p> + <p> + The door to the drawing room was partly open, and as Lady Muriel + approached the top of the stair she heard the voices of two men in an + eager colloquy; a smart English accent from the world that she was so + desperately endeavoring to remain in, and a voice that paused and was + unhurried. But they were both eager, as I have written, as though commonly + impulsed by an unusual concern. + </p> + <p> + And now that she was near, Lady Muriel realized that the conversation was + not low or under uttered. The smart voice was, in fact, loud and incisive. + It was the heavy house that reduced the sounds. In fact, the conversation + was keyed up. The two men were excited about something. + </p> + <p> + A sentence arrested the woman's advancing feet. + </p> + <p> + “My word! Bramwell, if some one should go there and bring the things out, + he would make a fortune, and would be famous. Nobody ever believed these + stories.” + </p> + <p> + “There was Le Petit, Sir Godfrey,” replied the deliberate voice. “He + declared over his signature that he had seen them.” + </p> + <p> + “But who believed Le Petit,” continued the other. “The world took him to + be a French imaginist like Chateaubriand... who the devil, Bramwell, + supposed there was any truth in this old story? But by gad, sir, it's + true! The water color shows it, and if you turn it over you will see that + the map on the back of it gives the exact location of the spot. It's all + exact work, even the fine lines of the map have the bearings indicated. + The man who made that water color, and the drawing on the back of it, had + been on the spot. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, we don't know conclusively who made it. Tony had gone in from + the West coast after big game, and he found the thing put up as a sort of + fetish in a devil house. It was one of the tribes near the Karamajo range. + As I told you, we have only Tony's diary for it. I found the thing among + his effects after he was killed in Flanders. It's pretty certain Tony did + not understand the water color. There was only this single entry in the + diary about how he found it, and a query in pencil. + </p> + <p> + “My word! if he had understood the water color, he would have beaten over + every foot of Africa to Lake Leopold. And it would have been the biggest + find of his time. Gad! what a splash he'd have made! But he never had any + luck, the beggar... stopped a German bullet in the first week out. + </p> + <p> + “Now, how the devil, Bramwell, do you suppose that water color got into a + native medicine house?” + </p> + <p> + The reflective voice replied slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I've thought about the thing, Sir Godfrey. It must have been the work of + the Holland explorer, Maartin. He was all about in Africa, and he died in + there somewhere, at least he never came out... that was ten years ago. + I've looked him up, and I find that he could do a water color—in + fact there's a collection of his water colors in, the Dutch museum. + They're very fine work, like this one; exquisite, I'd say. The fellow was + born an artist. + </p> + <p> + “How it got into the hands of a native devil doctor is not difficult to + imagine. The sleeping sickness may have wiped Maartin out, or the natives + may have rushed his camp some morning, or he may have been mauled by a + beast. Any article of a white man is medicine stuff you know. When you + first showed me the thing I was puzzled. I knew what it was because I had + read Le Petit's pretension... I can't call it a pretension now; the things + are there whether he saw them or not. + </p> + <p> + “I think he did not see them. But it is certain from this water color that + some one did; and Maartin is the only explorer that could have done such a + color. As soon as I thought of Maartin I knew the thing could have been + done by no other.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Muriel had remained motionless on the stair. The door to the drawing + room, before her, was partly open. She stepped in to the angle of the wall + and drew the door slowly back until it covered this angle in which she + stood. + </p> + <p> + She was rich in such experiences, for her success had depended, not a + little, on overhearing what was being said. Through the crack of the door + the whole interior of the room was visible. + </p> + <p> + Sir Godfrey Halleck, a little dapper man, was sitting across the table + from Bramwell Winton. His elbows were on the table, and he was looking + eagerly at the biologist. Bramwell Winton had in his hands the thing under + discussion. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to be a piece of cardboard or heavy paper about six inches in + length by, perhaps, four in width. Lady Muriel could not see what was + drawn or painted on this paper. But the heart in her bosom quickened. She + had chanced on the spoor of something worth while. + </p> + <p> + The little dapper man flung his head up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's certain, Bramwell; it's beyond any question now. My word! If + Tony were only alive, or I twenty years younger! It's no great + undertaking, to go in to the Karamajo Mountains. One could start from the + West Coast, unship any place and pick up a bunch of natives. The map on + the back of the water color is accurate. The man who made that knew how to + travel in an unknown country. He must have had a theodolite and the very + best equipment. Anybody could follow that map.” + </p> + <p> + There was a battered old dispatch box on the table beside Sir Godfrey's + arm—one that had seen rough service. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he went on, “we don't know when Tony picked up this drawing. + It was in this box here with his diary, an automatic pistol and some + quinine. The date of the diary entry is the only clue. That would indicate + that he was near the Karamajo range at the time, not far from the spot.” + </p> + <p> + He snapped his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “What damned luck!” + </p> + <p> + He clinched his hands and brought them down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I'm nearly seventy, Bramwell, but you're ten years under that. You could + go in. No one need know the object of your expedition. Hector Bartlett + didn't tell the whole of England when he went out to Syria for the gold + plates. A scientist can go anywhere. No one wonders what he is about. It + wouldn't take three months. And the climate isn't poisonous. I think it's + mostly high ground. Tony didn't complain about it.” + </p> + <p> + The biologist answered without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't got the money, Sir Godfrey.” + </p> + <p> + The dapper little man jerked his head as over a triviality. + </p> + <p> + “I'll stake you. It wouldn't cost above five hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + The biologist sat back in his chair, at the words, and looked over the + table at his guest. + </p> + <p> + “That's awfully decent of you, Godfrey,” he said, “and I'd go if I saw a + way to get your money to you if anything happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the money!” cried the other. + </p> + <p> + The biologist smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “let me think about it. I could probably fix up some sort + of insurance. Lloyd's will bet nearly any sane man that he won't die for + three months. And besides I should wish to look things up a little.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Godfrey rose. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to be sure,” he said, “you want to make certain about the thing. We + might be wrong. I hadn't an idea what it was until I brought it to you, + and of course Tony hadn't an idea. Make certain of it by all means.” + </p> + <p> + The biologist extended his long legs under the table. He indicated the + water color in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “This thing's certain,” he said. “I know what this thing is.” + </p> + <p> + He rapped the water color with the fingers of his free hand. + </p> + <p> + “This thing was painted on the spot. Maartin was looking at this thing + when he painted it. You can see the big shadows underneath. No living + creature could have imagined this or painted it from hearsay. He had to + see it. And he did see it. I wasn't thinking about this, Godfrey. I was + thinking the Dutch government might help a bit in the hope of finding some + trace of Maartin and I should wish to examine any information they might + have about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn the Dutch government!” cried the little man. “And damn Lloyd's. We + will go it on our own hook.” + </p> + <p> + The biologist smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Let me think about it, a little,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The dapper man flipped a big watch out of his waistcoat pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Surely!” he cried, “I must get the next train up. Have you got a place to + lock the stuff? I had to cut this lid open with a chisel.” + </p> + <p> + He indicated the tin dispatch box. + </p> + <p> + “Better keep it all. You'll want to run through the diary, I imagine. + Tony's got down the things explorer chaps are always keen about; + temperature, water supply, food and all that..... Now, I'm off. See you + Thursday afternoon at the United Service Club. Better lunch with me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he pushed the dispatch box across the table. The biologist rose and + turned back the lid of the box. The contents remained as Sir Godfrey's + dead son had left them; a limp leather diary, an automatic pistol of some + American make, a few glass tubes of quinine, packed in cotton wool. + </p> + <p> + He put the water color on the bottom of the box and replaced them. + </p> + <p> + Then he took the dispatch box over to an old iron safe at the farther end + of the room, opened it, set the box within, locked the door, and, + returning, thrust the key under a pile of journals on the corner of the + table. Then he went out, and down the stairway with his guest to the door. + </p> + <p> + They passed within a finger touch of Lady Muriel. + </p> + <p> + The woman was quick to act. There would be no borrowing from Bramwell + Winton. He would now, with this expedition on the way, have no penny for + another. But here before her, as though arranged by favor of Fatality, was + something evidently of enormous value that she could cash in to + Hecklemeir. + </p> + <p> + There was fame and fortune on the bottom of that dispatch box. + </p> + <p> + Something that would have been the greatest find of the age to Tony + Halleck... something that the biologist, clearly from his words and + manner, valued beyond the gold plates of Sir Hector Bartlett. + </p> + <p> + It was a thing that Hecklemeir would buy with money... the very thing + which he would be at this opportune moment interested to purchase. She saw + it in the very first comprehensive glance. + </p> + <p> + Her luck was holding Fortune was more than favorable, merely. It exercised + itself actively, with evident concern, in her behalf. + </p> + <p> + Lady Muriel went swiftly into the room. She slipped the key from under the + pile of journals and crossed to the safe sitting against the wall. + </p> + <p> + It was an old safe of some antediluvian manufacture and the lock was worn. + The stem of the key was smooth and it slipped in her gloved hands. She + could not hold it firm enough to turn the lock. Finally with her bare + fingers and with one hand to aid the other she was able to move the lock + and so open the safe. + </p> + <p> + She heard the door to the street close below, and the faint sound of + Bramwell Winton's footsteps as though he went along the hall into the + service portion of the house. She was nervous and hurried, but this + reassured her. + </p> + <p> + The battered dispatch box sat within on the empty bottom of the a safe. + </p> + <p> + She lifted the lid; an automatic pistol lay on a limp leather-backed + journal, stained, discolored and worn. Lady Muriel slipped her hand under + these articles and lifted out the thing she sought. + </p> + <p> + Even in the pressing haste of her adventure, the woman could not forbear + to look at the thing upon which these two men set so great a value. She + stopped then a moment on her knees beside the safe, the prized article in + her hands. + </p> + <p> + A map, evidently drawn with extreme care, was before her. She glanced at + it hastily and turned the thing quickly over. What she saw amazed and + puzzled her. Even in this moment of tense emotions she was astonished: She + saw a pool of water,—not a pool of water in the ordinary sense—but + a segment of water, as one would take a certain limited area of the + surface of the sea or a lake or river. It was amber-colored and as smooth + as glass, and on the surface of this water, as though they floated, were + what appeared to be three, reddish-purple colored flowers, and beneath + them on the bottom of the water were huge indistinct shadows. + </p> + <p> + The water was not clear to make out the shadows. But the appearing flowers + were delicately painted. They stood out conspicuously on the glassy + surface of the water as though they were raised above it. + </p> + <p> + Amazement held the woman longer than she thought, over this extraordinary + thing. Then she thrust it into the bosom of her jacket, fastening the + button securely over it. + </p> + <p> + The act kept her head down. When she lifted it Bramwell Winton was + standing in the door. + </p> + <p> + In terror her hand caught up the automatic pistol out of the tin box. She + acted with no clear, no determined intent. It was a gesture of fear and of + indecision; escape through menace was perhaps the subconscious motive; the + most primitive, the most common motive of all creatures in the corner. It + extends downward from the human mind through all life. + </p> + <p> + To spring up, to drag the veil over her face with her free hand, and to + thrust the weapon at the figure in the doorway was all simultaneous and + instinctive acts in the expression of this primordial impulse of escape + through menace. + </p> + <p> + Then a thing happened. + </p> + <p> + There was a sharp report and the figure standing in the doorway swayed a + moment and fell forward into the room. The unconscious gripping of the + woman's fingers had fired the pistol. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Lady Muriel stood unmoving, arrested in every muscle by this + accident. But her steady wits—skilled in her profession—did + not wholly desert her. She saw that the man was dead. There was peril in + that—immense, uncalculated peril, but the prior and immediate peril, + the peril of discovery in the very accomplishment of theft, was by this + act averted. + </p> + <p> + She stooped over, her eyes fixed on the sprawling body and with her free + hand closed the door of the safe. Then she crossed the room, put the + pistol down on the floor near the dead man's hand and went out. + </p> + <p> + She went swiftly down the stairway and paused a moment at the door to look + out. The street was empty. She hurried away. + </p> + <p> + She met no one. A cab in the distance was appearing. She hailed it as from + a cross street and returned to Regent. It was characteristic of the woman + that her mind dwelt upon the spoil she carried rather than upon the act + she had done. + </p> + <p> + She puzzled at the water color. How could these things be flowers? + </p> + <p> + Bramwell Winton was a biologist; he would not be concerned with flowers. + And Sir Godfrey Halleck and his son Tony, the big game hunter, were not + men to bother themselves with blossoms. Sir Godfrey, as she now remembered + vaguely, had, like his dead son, been a keen sportsman in his youth; his + country house was full of trophies. + </p> + <p> + She carried buttoned in the bosom of her jacket something that these men + valued. But, what was it? Well, at any rate it was something that would + mean fame and fortune to the one who should bring it out of Africa. That + one would now be Hecklemeir, and she should have her share of the spoil. + </p> + <p> + Lady Muriel found the drawing-room of her former employer in some + confusion; rugs were rolled up, bronzes were being packed. But in the + disorder of it the proprietor was imperturbable. He merely elevated his + eyebrows at her reappearance. She went instantly to the point. + </p> + <p> + “Hecklemeir,” she said, “how would you like to have a definite objective + in your explorations?” + </p> + <p> + The man looked at her keenly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean precisely?” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” she continued, “something that would bring one fame and fortune + if one found it.” And she added, as a bit of lure, “You remember the gold + plates Hector Bartlett dug up in Syria?” + </p> + <p> + He came over closer to her; his little eyes narrowed. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got?” he said. + </p> + <p> + His facetious manner—that vulgar persons imagine to be distinguished—was + gone out of him. He was direct and simple. + </p> + <p> + She replied with no attempt at subterfuge. + </p> + <p> + “I've got a map of a route to some sort of treasure—I don't know + what—It's in the Karamajo Mountains in the French Congo; a map to it + and a water color of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + Hecklemeir did not ask how Lady Muriel came by the thing she claimed; his + profession always avoided such detail. But he knew that she had gone to + Bramwell Winton; and what she had must have come from some scientific + source. The mention of Hector Bartlett was not without its virtue. + </p> + <p> + Lady Muriel marked the man's changed manner, and pushed her trade. + </p> + <p> + “I want a check for a hundred pounds and a third of the thing when you + bring it out.” + </p> + <p> + Hecklemeir stood for a moment with the tips of his fingers pressed against + his lips; then replied. + </p> + <p> + “If you have anything like the thing you describe, I'll give you a hundred + pounds... let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + She took the water color out of the bosom of her jacket and gave it to + him. + </p> + <p> + He carried it over to the window and studied it a moment. Then he turned + with a sneering oath. + </p> + <p> + “The devil take your treasure,” he said, “these things are + water-elephants. I don't care a farthing if they stand on the bottom of + every lake in Africa!” + </p> + <p> + And he flung the water color toward her. Mechanically the stunned woman + picked it up and smoothed it out in her fingers. + </p> + <p> + With the key to the picture she saw it clearly, the shadowy bodies of the + beasts and the tips of their trunks distended on the surface like a purple + flower. And vaguely, as though it were a memory from a distant life, she + recalled hearing the French Ambassador and Baron Rudd discussing the + report of an explorer who pretended to have seen these supposed fabulous + elephants come out of an African forest and go down under the waters of + Lake Leopold. + </p> + <p> + She stood there a moment, breaking the thing into pieces with her bare + hands. Then she went out. At the door on the landing she very nearly + stepped against a little cockney. + </p> + <p> + “My Lidy,” he whined, “I was bringing your gloves; you dropped them on + your way up.” + </p> + <p> + She took them mechanically and began to draw them on... the cryptic sign + of the cleaner on the wrist hem was now to her indicatory of her submerged + estate. The little cockney hung about a moment as for a gratuity delayed, + then he disappeared down the stair before her. + </p> + <p> + She went slowly down, fitting the gloves to her fingers. + </p> + <p> + Midway of the flight she paused. The voice of the little cockney, but + without the accent, speaking to a Bobby standing beside the entrance + reached her. + </p> + <p> + “It was Sir Henry Marquis who set the Yard to register all laundry marks + in London. Great C. I. D. Chief, Sir Henry!” + </p> + <p> + And Lady Muriel remembered that she had removed these gloves in order to + turn the slipping key in Bramwell Winton's safe lock. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X.-The Last Adventure + </h2> + <p> + The talk had run on treasure. + </p> + <p> + I could not sleep and my friends had dropped in. I had the big South room + on the second floor of the Hotel de Paris. It looks down on the Casino and + the Mediterranean. Perhaps you know it. + </p> + <p> + Queer friends, you'd say. Every man-jack of them a gambler. But when one + begins to sit about all night with his eyes open, the devil's a friend. + </p> + <p> + Barclay was standing before the fire. The others had drifted out. He's a + big man pitted with the smallpox. He made a gesture, flinging out his hand + toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “That bunch thinks there's a curse on treasure, Sir Henry. That's one of + the oldest notions in the world... it's unlucky.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know where there's a treasure that's not unlucky. At least it was + not unlucky for poor Charlie Tavor. He did not get it, but there was no + curse on it that reached to him. It helped poor Charlie finish in style. + He died like a lord in a big country house, with a formal garden and a + line of lackeys.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay paused. + </p> + <p> + “Queer chap, Tavor. He was the best all round explorer in the world. I bar + nobody. Charlie Tavor could take a nigger and cross the poisonous plateau + south west of the Libyan desert. I've backed him. I know... but he had no + business sense, anybody could fool him. He found the stock of bar silver + on the west face of the Andes that made old Nute Hardman a quarter of a + million dollars, clear, after the cursed beast had split it a half dozen + ways with a crooked South American government.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay's teeth set and he jerked up his clinched hand. + </p> + <p> + “It was a damned steal, Sir Henry. A piece of low down, dirty robbery; and + it was like taking candy away from a child.... 'Sign here, Mr. Tavor,' and + Charlie would scrawl on his fist.. .. Some people think there's no hell, + but what's God Almighty going to do with Old Nute?” + </p> + <p> + He flung out his hand again. + </p> + <p> + “Still the thing didn't dent Charlie. He never missed a step. 'Don't + bother, Barclay, old man,' he'd say, 'I'll find something else,' and then + he'd go off into this dream he had of coming back when he'd struck it, to + the old home county in England and laying it over the bunch that had + called him 'no good.' He never talked much, but I gathered from odds and + ends that he was the black sheep in a pretty smart flock. + </p> + <p> + “Then, I'd stake him to a cheap outfit—not much, I've said he could + push through the Libyan desert with a nigger—and he'd drop out of + the world. It wasn't charity. I got my money's worth. The clay pots he + brought me from Yucatan would sell any day for more cash than I ever + advanced him.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay moved a little before the fire. I was listening in a big chair, my + feet extended toward the hearth; a smoking jacket had replaced my dinner + coat. + </p> + <p> + “It was five years ago, in London,” Barclay went on, “that I fitted + Charlie out for his last adventure. He wanted to land in the gulf of + Pe-chi-li and go into the great desert of the Shamo in Central Mongolia. + You'll find the Shamo all dotted out on the maps; but it's faked dope. No + white man knows anything about the Shamo. + </p> + <p> + “It's a trick to lay off these great waste areas and call them elevated + plateaus or sunken plateaus. You can't go by the atlas. Where's Kane's + Open Polar Sea and Morris K. Jessup's Land? Still, Charlie thought the + Shamo might be a low plain, and he thought he might find something in it. + You see the great gold caravans used to cross it, three thousand years + ago... and as Charlie kept saying, 'What's time in the Shamo?' + </p> + <p> + “Well, I bought him a kit of stuff, and he took a P. and O. through the + Suez. I got a long letter from Pekin two months later; and then Charlie + Tavor dropped out of the world. I went back to America. No word ever came + from Charlie. I thought he was dead. I suppose a white man's life is about + the cheapest thing there is northwest of the Yellow River; and Charlie + never had an escort. A coolie and an old service pistol would about foot + up his defenses. + </p> + <p> + “And there's every ghastly disease in Mongolia.... Still some word always + came from Tavor inside of a year; a tramp around the Horn would bring in a + dirty note, written God knows where, and carried out to the ship by a + naked native swimming with the thing in his teeth; or some little embassy + would send it to me in a big official envelope stamped with enough red wax + to make a saint's candle. + </p> + <p> + “But the luck failed this time. A year ran on, then two, then three and I + passed Charlie up. He'd surely 'gone west!'” + </p> + <p> + Barclay paused, thrust his hands into the pockets of his dinner jacket and + looked down at me. + </p> + <p> + “One night in New York I got a call from the City Hospital. The telephone + message came in about ten o'clock. I was in Albany; I found the message + when I got back the following morning and I went ever to the hospital. + </p> + <p> + “The matron said that they had picked up a man on the North River docks in + an epileptic fit and the only name they could find on him was my New York + address. They thought he was going to die, he was cold and stiff for + hours, and they had undertaken to reach me in order to identify him. But + he did not die. He was up this morning and she would bring him in.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay paused again. + </p> + <p> + “She brought in Charlie Tavor!... And I nearly screamed when I saw the + man. He was dressed in one of those cheap hand-me-downs that the Germans + used to sell in the tropics for a pound, three and six, his eyes looked as + dead as glass and he was as white as plaster. How the man managed to keep + on his feet I don't know. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't stop for any explanation. I got Tavor into a taxi, and over to + my apartment.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay moved in his position before the fire. + </p> + <p> + “But on the way over a thing happened that some little god played in for a + joke. There was a block just where Thirty-third crosses into Fifth Avenue, + and our taxi pulled up by a limousine.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay suddenly thrust out his big pock-marked face. + </p> + <p> + “The thing couldn't have happened by itself. Some burlesque angel put it + over when the Old Man wasn't looking. Spread out on the tapestry cushions + of that limousine was Nute Hardman! + </p> + <p> + “There they were side by side. Not six feet apart; Old Nute in a + sable-lined coat and Charlie in his hand-me-down, at a pound, three and + six.” + </p> + <p> + The muscles in Barclay's big jaw tightened. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe there is a joker that runs the world, and maybe the devil runs it. + Anyhow it's a queer system. Here was Charlie Tavor, straight as a string, + down and out. And here was Nute Hardman, so crooked that a fly couldn't + light on him and stand level, with everything that money could buy. + </p> + <p> + “I cast it up while the taxi stood there beside the car. Nute was consul + in a South American port that you couldn't spell and couldn't find on the + map. He didn't have two dollars to rub together, until Charlie Tavor + turned up. There he sat, out of the world, forgotten, growing moss and + getting ready to rot; and God Almighty, or the devil, or whatever it is, + steered Charlie Tavor in to him with the bar silver. + </p> + <p> + “He picked Charlie to the bone and cut for the States. And this damned + crooked luck went right along with him. He was in a big apartment, now, up + on Fifth Avenue and four-flushing toward every point of the compass. His + last stunt was 'patron of science.' He'd gotten into the Geographical + Society, and he was laying lines for the Royal Society in London. He had a + Harvard don working over in the Metropolitan library, building him a + thesis! + </p> + <p> + “The thing made me ugly. I wanted to have a plain talk with the devil. He + wasn't playing fair. Old Nute couldn't have been worth the whole run of + us; I've legged some myself, and I had a right to be heard. The devil + ought to make old Nute split up with Charlie. True, Charlie belonged in + the other camp, but I didn't. And if I wanted a little favor I felt that + the devil ought to come across with it... I put it up to him, or down to + him, as you'd say, while I sat there in that taxi.” + </p> + <p> + There was a grim energy in Barclay's face. He was no ordinary person. + </p> + <p> + “I got Tavor up to my apartment, and a goblet of brandy in him. I never + saw anybody look like Tavor as he sat there propped up in the chair with a + lot of cushions around him. It was winter and cold. He had no clothes to + speak of, but he did not seem to notice either the cold outside or the + heat in the apartment, as though, somehow, he couldn't tell the + difference. + </p> + <p> + “And he was the strangest color that any human being ever was in the + world. I've said that he looked like plaster, and he did look like it, but + he looked like a plaster man with a thin coat of tan colored paint on + him.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay paused. + </p> + <p> + “It's hardly a wonder that no message reached me. The devil couldn't have + got word out of the hell land he'd been in. Lost is no name for it. He'd + been all over the Shamo, and the big Sahara's a park to it. He'd been + North to the Kangai where they used to get the gold that the caravans + carried across the Shamo, and he'd followed the old trails South to the + great wall. + </p> + <p> + “It's all a Satan's country. I don't know why God Almighty wanted to make + a hell hole like the Shamo!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, then he went on. + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn't in the Shamo that Tavor got track of the thing he was + after. He said that the age he was trying to get back into was much more + remote than he imagined. It must have been a good many thousands of years + ago. He couldn't tell; long before anything like dependable history at any + rate.... There must have been an immense age of great oriental splendor in + the South of Asia and along the East African coast, dying out at about the + time our knowledge of human history begins.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay went on, unmoving before the fire. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know why we imagine that the legends of a little tribe in Syria + running back to the fifth or sixth century begins the world.... Anyway, + Tavor got the notion, as I have said, of an age in decay at about the time + these legends start in; with a trade moving west. + </p> + <p> + “He nosed it all out! God knows how. Of course it was only a theory—only + a notion in fact. He hadn't anything to go on that I could see. But after + two years' drifting about in the Shamo, this is how he finally figured it: + </p> + <p> + “Northern Asia traded gold in the west; the mined product would be molded + into bricks in lower Mongolia. It was then carried over land to the + southwest coast of Arabia. There was some great center of world commerce + low down on the Red Sea about eight hundred miles south of Port Said. + </p> + <p> + “Tavor said that when he began to think about the thing the caravan route + was pretty clear to him. Arabia seemed to have been connected, in that + remote age, with Persia at the Strait of Ormus, so there was a direct + overland route.... That put another notion into Tavor's head; these + treasure caravans must have crossed the immense Sandy Desert of El-Khali. + And this notion developed another; if one were seeking the wreck of any + one of these treasure caravans he would be more likely to find it in the + El-Khali than in the Shamo.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay moved away from the fire, got a chair and sat down. He was across + the hearth from me. He looked about the room and at the curtained windows + that shut out the blue night. + </p> + <p> + “You can't sleep,” he went on, “so I might just as well tell you this. A + good deal of it is what the lawyers called dicta... obiter dicta; when the + judge gets to putting in stuff on the side ... but it's a long time 'til + daylight.” + </p> + <p> + He had taken a small chair and he sat straight in it after the manner of a + big man. + </p> + <p> + “You see the treasure carried south across the Shamo would be 'gold wheat' + (dust, we'd call it), packed in green skins... you couldn't find that. But + the caravans crossing the El-Khali would carry this gold in bricks for the + great west trade. Now a gold brick is indestructible; you can't think of + anything that would last forever like a gold brick. Nothing would disturb + it, water and sun are alike without effect on it.... + </p> + <p> + “That was Tavor's notion, and he went right after it. Most of us would + have slacked out after two years in the hell hole of Central Mongolia. But + not Charlie Tavor. He got down to Arabia somehow; God knows, I never asked + him,—and he went right on into the Great Sandy Desert of Roba El + Khali. The oldest caravan route known runs straight across the desert from + Muscat to Mecca. It's a thousand miles across—but you can strike the + line of it nearly four hundred miles west in a hundred miles travel by + going due South from the coast between fifty and fifty-five degrees. + </p> + <p> + “You'll find this old caravan route drawn on the map, a dead straight line + across the thirty-third parallel. But the man that put it on there never + traveled over it. He doesn't know whether it is a sunken plateau, or an + elevated plateau, or what the devil it is that this old route runs across. + And he doesn't know what the earth's like in the great basin of the + El-Khali; maybe it's sand and maybe it's something else.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay stopped and looked queerly at me. + </p> + <p> + “The Doctor Cooks have put a lot of stuff over on us. The fact is, there's + six million square miles of the earth's surface that nobody knows anything + about.” + </p> + <p> + He got a package of American cigarettes out of his pocket, selected one + and lighted it with a fragment of the box thrust into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “That's where Tavor was the last year. When the ambulance picked him up, + he'd crawled around the Horn in a Siamese tramp.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Great people, the English; no fag-out to them. Look how Scott went on in + the Antarctic with his feet frozen... It's in the blood; it was in Tavor. + </p> + <p> + “I sat there that winter night in my room in New York while he told me all + about it. + </p> + <p> + “It was morning when he finished—the milk wagons were on the street,—and + then, he added, quite simply, as though it were a matter of no importance, + </p> + <p> + “'But I can't go back, Barclay, old man; my tramping's over. That was no + fit I had on the dock.' + </p> + <p> + “He looked at me with his dead eyes in his tan-colored plaster face. + You've heard of the hemp-chewers and the betel-chewers; well, all that's + baby-food to a thing they've got in the Shamo. It's a shredded root, + bitter like cactus, and when you chew it, you don't get tired and you + don't get hot... you go on and you don't know what the temperature is. + Then some day, all at once, you go down, cold all over like a dead man... + that time you don't die, but the next time...” + </p> + <p> + Barclay snapped his fingers without adding the word.' + </p> + <p> + “And you can calculate when the second one will strike you. It's a hundred + and eighty-one days to the hour.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “That was the first one on the dock. Tavor had six months to live.” + </p> + <p> + The big man broke the cigarette in his fingers and threw the pieces into + the fire. Then he turned abruptly toward me. + </p> + <p> + “And I know where he wanted to live for those six months. The old dream + was still with him. He wanted that country house in his native county in + England, with the formal garden and the lackeys. The finish didn't bother + him, but he wanted to round out his life with the dream that he had + carried about with him. + </p> + <p> + “I put him to bed and went down into Broadway, and walked about all night. + Tavor couldn't go back and he had to have a bunch of money. + </p> + <p> + “It was no good. I couldn't see it. I went back Tavor was up and I sat him + down to a cross examination that would have delighted the soul of a + Philadelphia lawyer.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay paused. + </p> + <p> + “It was all at once that I saw it—like you'd snap your fingers. It + was an accident of Charlie's talk... one of those obiter dicta, that I + mentioned a while ago. But I stopped Charlie and went over to the + Metropolitan Library; there I got me an expert—an astronomer chap, + as it happened, reading calculus in French for fun—I gave him a + twenty and I looked him in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Professor,' I said, 'this dope's got to be straight stuff, I'm + risking money on it; every word you write has got to be the truth, and + every line and figure that you put on your map has got to be correct with + a capital K.'” + </p> + <p> + “'Surely,' he said, 'I shall follow Huxley for the text and I shall check + the chart calculations for error.' + </p> + <p> + “'And there's another thing, professor. You've got to go dumb on this job, + for which I double the twenty.' He looked puzzled, but when he finally + understood me, he said 'Surely' again, and I went back to my apartment. + </p> + <p> + “'Charlie,' I said, 'how much money would it take for this English country + life business?' + </p> + <p> + “His eyes lighted up a little. + </p> + <p> + “'Well, Barclay, old man,' he replied, 'I've estimated it pretty carefully + a number of times. I could take Eldon's place for six months with the + right to purchase for two thousand dollars paid down; and I could manage + the servants and the living expenses for another four thousand. I fear I + should not be able to get on with a less sum than six thousand dollars.' + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he added—he was a child to the last—“perhaps Mr. + Hardman will now be able to advance it; he promised me 'a further per + cent',” those were his words, when the matter was finally concluded. + </p> + <p> + “Then ten thousand would do?” + </p> + <p> + “My word,' he said, 'I should go it like a lord on ten thousand. Do you + think Mr. Hardman would consider that sum?' + </p> + <p> + “'I'm going to try him,' I said, 'I've got some influence in a quarter + that he depends on.' + </p> + <p> + “And I went out. I went down to my bank and got twenty U. S. bonds of a + thousand each. At five o'clock, the professor had his dope ready—the + text and the chart, neatly folded in a big manilla envelope with a rubber + band around it. And that evening I went up to see old Nute.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay got another cigarette. There was a queer cynicism in his big + pitted face. + </p> + <p> + “The church bunch,” he said, “have got a strange conception of the devil; + they think he's always ready to lie down on his friends. That's a fool + notion. The devil couldn't do business if he didn't come across when you + needed him. + </p> + <p> + “And there's another thing; the old-timers, when they went after their god + for a favor, always began by reciting what they'd done for him.... That + was sound dope! I tried it myself on the way up to old Nute's apartment on + Fifth Avenue. + </p> + <p> + “I went over a lot of things. And whenever I made a point, I rapped it on + the pavement with the ferule of my walking stick; as one would say, 'you + owe me for that!' + </p> + <p> + “You see I was worked up about Tavor. When a man's carried a dream over + all the hell he'd pushed through he ought to have it in the end.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “You know the swell apartments on Fifth Avenue; no name, only a number; + every floor a residence, only the elevators connecting them. I found old + Nute in the seventh; and I was bucked the moment I got in. + </p> + <p> + “The door from the drawing room to the library was open. The Harvard don + was going out, the one Nute had employed to get up his thesis for the + Royal Society of London—I mentioned him a while ago. And I heard his + final remark, flung back at the door. 'What you require, Sir, is the + example case of some new exploration—one that you have yourself + conducted.' + </p> + <p> + “That bucked me; the devil was on the job!” + </p> + <p> + Barclay stopped again. He sat for a moment watching the smoke from the + cigarette climb in a blue mist slowly into the beautiful fresco of the + ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “I told old Nute precisely what I've told you. How I'd backed Tavor for + his last adventure, and where he'd been; all over Central Mongolia and + finally across the Great Sandy Desert of El-Khali. And I told him what + Charlie was after; the theory he started with and his final conclusion + when he made his last push along the old caravan route west from Muscat. + </p> + <p> + “I went into the details, and the big notion that Tavor had slowly pieced + together; how the gold was mined in the ranges south of Siberia, carried + in green skins to lower Mongolia, melted there and taken for trade + Southwest across the El-Khali to an immense Babylon of Commerce of which + the present Mecca is perhaps a decadent residuum. + </p> + <p> + “I put it all in; the accessibility of this desert from the coast on three + sides, how the old caravan route parallels the thirty-third meridian and + how Charlie struck it four hundred miles out into the desert in a hundred + miles travel due south in longitude between 50 and 55 degrees; all the + details of Tavor's hunt for the wreck of one of these treasure caravans. + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute looked at me with his little hard eyes slipping about. + </p> + <p> + “'And he didn't find it?' he said. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't answer that. I went ahead and told him how I found Tavor and the + shape he was in, and then I added, 'I'm not an explorer, and Charlie can't + go back.' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute's thick neck shot out at that. + </p> + <p> + “'Then he did find it?' he said. + </p> + <p> + “'Now look here, Nute,' I said, 'you're not trading with Tavor on this + deal. You're trading with me and I'm just as slick as you are. You'll get + no chance to slip under on this. You forget all I've told you just as + though it had nothing to do with what I'm going to tell you, and I'll come + to the point.' + </p> + <p> + “'Forget it?' he said. + </p> + <p> + “'Yes,' I said, 'forget it. I'm not going to put you on to what Charlie + knows, with any strings to it, or with any pointers that you can run down + without us. I've told you all about Tavor's big hunt through the Shamo and + the El-Khali for a purpose of my own and not for the purpose of enabling + you to locate the thing that Charlie Tavor knows about.' + </p> + <p> + “Hardman's voice went down into a low note. 'What does he know?' he said. + </p> + <p> + “I looked him squarely in the little reptilian eyes. 'He knows where there + is a treasure in gold equal in our money to three hundred thousand + dollars!' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute's little eyes focused into his nose an instant. Then he took a + chance at me. + </p> + <p> + “'What's the country like?' + </p> + <p> + “I went on as though I didn't see the drift. + </p> + <p> + “'Tavor says this area of the earth's surface is a great plain practically + level, sloping gradually on one side and rising gradually on the other.' + </p> + <p> + “'Sand?' said Nute. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' I replied, 'Tavor says that contrary to the common notion, this + plain is not covered with sand, it's a kind of chalk deposit.' + </p> + <p> + “'Hard to get to?' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute shot the query in with a little quick duck of his head. + </p> + <p> + “I went straight on with the answer. + </p> + <p> + “'Tavor says it's about a five or six days' journey from a sea coast + town.' + </p> + <p> + “'Hard traveling?' + </p> + <p> + “'No, Tavor says you can get within two miles of the place without any + difficulty whatever—he says anybody can do it. The only difficulties + are on the last two miles. But up to the last two miles, it's a holiday + journey for a middle-aged woman.' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute grunted. He put his fat hands together over his waistcoat and + twiddled his thumbs. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,'; he said, 'what's in your mind about it?' + </p> + <p> + “We were now up to the trade and I stated the terms. + </p> + <p> + “'It's like this,' I said, 'Tavor's down and out. He's got only six months + to live. Fifth Avenue piled full of gold won't do him any good if he's got + to wait for it. What he wants is a little money quick!' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute's eyes squinted. + </p> + <p> + “'How much money?' he said. + </p> + <p> + “'Well,' I said, 'Tavor will turn his map over to you for ten thousand + dollars... Death's crowding him.' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute's fat fingers began to drum on his waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + “'How do I know the gold's there and the map's straight?' + </p> + <p> + “'Did you ever know Tavor to lie?' I said. + </p> + <p> + “'No,' he said, 'Tavor's not a liar; but I am a business man, Mr. Barclay, + and in business we do not go on verbal assurances, no matter how + unquestioned.' + </p> + <p> + “'That's right,' I replied, 'I'm a business man, too; that's why I came + instead of sending Tavor.... you found out he wasn't a business man in the + first deal.' + </p> + <p> + “Then I took my 'shooting irons' out of my pocket and laid them on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “There,' I said, 'are twenty, one-thousand United States bonds, not + registered,' and I put my hand on one of the big manilla envelopes; 'and + here,' I said, 'is an accurate description of the place where this + treasure lies and a map of the route to it,' and I put my hand on the + other. + </p> + <p> + “'Now,' I went on, 'I believe every word of this thing. Charles Tavor is + the best all-round explorer in the world. I've known him a lifetime and + what he says goes with me. We'll put up this bunch of stuff with a + stakeholder for the term of a year, and if the gold isn't there and if the + map showing the route to it isn't correct and if every word I've said + about it isn't precisely the truth, you take down my bonds and keep them.' + </p> + <p> + “Old Nute got up and walked about the room. I knew what he was thinking. + 'Here's another one of them—there's all kinds.' + </p> + <p> + “But it hooked him. We wrote out the terms and put the stuff up with old + Commodore Harris—the straightest sport in America. Nute had the + right to copy the map, and the text and a year to verify it. And I took + the ten thousand back to Charlie Tavor.” + </p> + <p> + Barclay got up and went over to the window. He drew back the heavy + tapestry curtains. It was morning; the blue dawn was beginning to illumine + Monaco and the polished arc of the sea. He stood looking down into it, + holding the curtain in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I give the devil his due for that, Sir Henry,” he said. “Charlie Tavor + got his dream at the end; he died like a gentleman in his English country + house with the formal garden and the lackeys.” + </p> + <p> + “And the other man got the treasure?” I said. Barclay replied without + moving. + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you lost your bonds?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't lose them; Commodore Harris handed them back to me on the + last day of the year.” + </p> + <p> + I sat up in my big lounge chair. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't Hardman make a fight for them; if he didn't find the treasure—didn't + he squeal?” + </p> + <p> + Barclay turned about, drawing the curtain close behind him. + </p> + <p> + “And be laughed out of the high-brow bunch that he was trying to get + into?... I said old Nute was a crook, but I didn't say he was a fool.” + </p> + <p> + I turned around in the chair. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand this thing, Barclay. If the treasure was there, and + you gave Hardman a correct map of the route to it, and it lay on a + practically level plain, and he could get within two miles of it without + difficulty in four or five days' travel from a sea coast town, why + couldn't he get it? Was it all the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “It was every word precisely the truth,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then why couldn't he get it?” + </p> + <p> + Barclay looked down at me; his big pitted face was illumined with a + cynical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Sir Henry,” he said, “'the trouble is with those last two miles. + They're water... straight down. The level plain is the bed of the Atlantic + ocean and that gold is in the hold of the Titanic.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI.-American Horses + </h2> + <p> + The thing began in the colony room of the Empire Club in London. The + colony room is on the second floor and looks out over Piccadilly Circus. + It was at an hour when nobody is in an English club. There was a drift of + dirty fog outside. Such nights come along in October. + </p> + <p> + Douglas Hargrave did not see the Baronet until he closed the door behind + him. Sir Henry was seated at a table, leaning over, his face between his + hand, and his elbows resting on the polished mahogany board. There was a + sheet of paper on the table between the Baronet's elbows. There were a few + lines written on the paper and the man's faculties were concentrated on + them. He did not see the jewel dealer until that person was half across + the room, then he called to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Hargrave,” he said. “Do you know anything about ciphers?” + </p> + <p> + “Only the trade one that our firm uses,” replied the jewel dealer. “And + that's a modification of the A B C code.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “take a look at this.” + </p> + <p> + The jewel dealer sat down at the other side of the table and the Baronet + handed him the sheet of paper. The man expected to see a lot of queer + signs and figures; but instead he found a simple trade's message, as it + seemed to him. + </p> + <p> + P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlow from N. + Y. + </p> + <p> + Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the jewel dealer, “somebody's going to ship nine hundred + horses. Where's the mystery?” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet shrugged his big shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “The mystery,” he said, “is everywhere. It's before and after and in the + body of this message. There's hardly anything to it but mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “Who sent it?” said Hargrave. + </p> + <p> + “That's one of the mysteries,” replied the Baronet. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the jewel dealer. “Who received it?” + </p> + <p> + “That's another,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” continued Hargrave, “you know where you got it.” + </p> + <p> + “Right,” replied the Baronet. “I know where I got it.” He took three + newspapers out of the pocket of his big tweed coat. “There it is,” he + said, “in the personal column of three newspapers—today's Times + printed in London; the Matin printed in Paris; and a Dutch daily printed + in Amsterdam.” + </p> + <p> + And there was the message set up in English, in two sentences precisely + word for word, in three newspapers printed on the same day in London, + Paris and Amsterdam. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to be a message all right,” said Hargrave: “But why do you + imagine it's a cipher?” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet looked closely at the American jewel dealer for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Why should it be printed in English in these foreign papers,” he said, + “if it were not a cipher?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Hargrave, “the person for whom it's intended does not know + any other language.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “The persons for whom this message is intended,” he said, “do not confine + themselves to a single language. It's a pretty well-organized + international concern.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hargrave, “it doesn't look like a mystery that ought to + puzzle the ingenuity of the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department + of the metropolitan police.” He nodded to Sir Henry. “You have only to + look out for the arrival of nine hundred horses and when they get in to + see who takes them off the boat. The thing looks easy.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not so easy as it looks,” replied the Baronet. “Evidently these + horses might go to France, Holland or England. That's the secret in this + message. That's where the cipher comes in. The name of the port is in that + cipher somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can, watch the steamer,” said Hargrave, “the Don Carlos.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet laughed. + </p> + <p> + “There's no such steamer!” He got up and began to walk round the table. + “Nine hundred horses,” he said. “This thing has got to stop. They're on + the sea now, on the way over from America: We have got to find out where + they will go ashore.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, stooped over and studied the message which he had written out + and which also lay before him in the three newspapers. + </p> + <p> + “It's there,” he said, “the name of the port of arrival, somewhere in + those two sentences. But I can't get at it. It's no cipher that I have + ever heard of. It's no one of the hundred figure or number ciphers that + the experts in the department know anything about. If we knew the port of + arrival we could pick up the clever gentleman who comes to take away the + horses. But what's the port—English, French or Dutch? There are a + score of ports.” He struck the paper with his hand. “It's there, my word + for it, if we could only decode the thing.” + </p> + <p> + Then he stood up, his face lifted, his fingers linked behind his back. He + crossed the room and stood looking out at the thin yellow fog drifting + over Piccadilly Circus. Finally he came back, gathered up his papers and + put them in the pocket of his big tweed coat. + </p> + <p> + “There's one man in Europe,” he said, “who can read this thing. That's the + Swiss expert criminologist, old Arnold, of Zurich. He's lecturing at the + Sorbonne in Paris. I'm going to see him.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went out. + </p> + <p> + Now that, as has been said, is how the thing began. It was the first + episode in the series of events that began to go forward on this + extraordinary night. One will say that the purchasing agent for a great + New York jewel house ought to be accustomed to adventures. The writers of + romance have stimulated that fancy. But the fact is that such persons are + practical people. They never do any of the things that the story writers + tell us. They never carry jewels about with them. Of course they know the + police departments of foreign cities. All jewel dealers make a point of + that. Hargrave's father was an old friend of Sir Henry Marquis, chief of + the C. I. D., and the young man always went to see him when he happened in + London. That explains the freedom of his talk to Hargrave on this night in + the Empire Club in Piccadilly. + </p> + <p> + The young man went over and sat down by the fire. The big room was empty. + The sounds outside seemed muffled and distant. The incident that had just + passed impressed him. He wondered why people should imagine that a + purchasing agent of a jewel house must be a sort of expert in the devices + of mystery. As has been said, the thing's a notion. Everything is shipped + through reliable transportation companies and insured. There was much more + mystery in a shipload of horses—the nine hundred horses that were + galloping through the head of Sir Henry Marquis—than in all the five + prosaic years during which young Hargrave had succeeded his father as a + jewel buyer. The American was impressed by this mystery of the nine + hundred horses. Sir Henry had said it was a mystery in every direction. + </p> + <p> + Now, as he sat alone before the fire in the colony room of the Empire Club + and thought about it, the thing did seem inexplicable. Why should the + metropolitan police care who imported horses, or in what port a shipload + of them was landed? The war was over. Nobody was concerned about the + importation of horses. Why should Sir Henry be so disturbed about it? But + he was disturbed; and he had rushed off to Paris to see an expert on + ciphers. That seemed a tremendous lot of trouble to take. The Baronet knew + the horses were on the sea coming from America, he said. If he knew that + much, how could he fail to discover the boat on which they were carried + and the port at which they would arrive? Nobody could conceal nine hundred + horses! + </p> + <p> + Hargrave was thinking about that, idly, before the glow of the coal fire, + when the second episode in this extraordinary affair arrived. + </p> + <p> + A steward entered. + </p> + <p> + “Visitor, please,” he said, “to see Mr. Hargrave.” + </p> + <p> + Then he presented his tray with a card. The jewel dealer took the card + with some surprise. Everybody knew that he was at the Empire Club. It is a + colony thing with chambers for foreign guests. A list of arrivals is + always printed. He saw at a glance that it was not a man's card; the size + was too large. Then he turned it over before the light of the fire. The + name was engraved in script, an American fashion at this time. + </p> + <p> + The woman's card had surprised him; but the name on it brought him up in + his chair—“Mrs. A. B. Farmingham.” It was not a name that he knew + precisely; but he knew its genera, the family or group to which it + belonged. Mr. Jefferson removed titles of nobility in the American + republic, but his efforts did not eliminate caste zones. It only made the + lines of cleavage more pronounced. One knew these zones by the name + formation. Everybody knew “Alfa Baba” Farmingham, as the Sunday Press was + accustomed to translate his enigmatical initials. Some wonderful Western + bonanza was behind the man. Mrs. “Alfa Baba” Farmingham would be, then, + one of the persons that Hargrave's house was concerned to reach. He looked + again at the card. In the corner the engraved address, “Point View, + Newport,” was marked out with a pencil and “The Ritz” written over it. + </p> + <p> + He got his coat and hat and followed the steward out of the club. There + was a carriage at the curb. A footman was holding the door open, and a + woman, leaning over in the seat, was looking out. She was precisely what + Hargrave expected to see, one of those dominant, impatient, aggressive + women who force their way to the head of social affairs in America. She + shot a volley of questions at him the moment he was before the door. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Douglas Hargrave, the purchasing agent for Bartholdi & + Banks?” + </p> + <p> + The man said that he was, and at her service, and so forth. But she did + not stop to listen to any reply. + </p> + <p> + “You look mighty young, but perhaps you know your business. At any rate, + it's the best I can do. Get in.” + </p> + <p> + Hargrave got in, the footman closed the door, and the carriage turned into + Piccadilly Circus. The woman did not pay very much attention to him. She + made a laconic explanation, the sort of explanation one would make to a + shopkeeper. + </p> + <p> + “I want your opinion on some jewels,” she said. “I have a lot to do—no + time to fool away. When I found that I could see the jewels to-night I + concluded to pick you up on my way down. I didn't find out about it in + time to let you know.” + </p> + <p> + Hargrave told her that he would be very glad to give her the benefit of + his experience. + </p> + <p> + “Glad, nonsense!” she said. “I'll pay your fee. Do you know a jewel when + you see it?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I do, madam,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + She moved with energy. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do to think,” she said. “I have got to know. I don't buy junk.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to carry himself up to her level with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, madam,” he said, “our house is not accustomed to buy junk. + It's a perfectly simple matter to tell a spurious jewel.” + </p> + <p> + And he began to explain the simple, decisive tests. But she did not listen + to him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care how a vet knows that a hunter's sound. All that I want to be + certain about is that he does know it. I don't want to buy hunters on my + own hook. Neither do I want to buy jewels on what I know about them. If + you know, that's all I care about it. And you must know or old Bartholdi + wouldn't trust you. That's what I'm going on.” + </p> + <p> + She was a big aggressive woman, full of energy. Hargrave could not see her + very well, but that much was abundantly clear. The carriage turned out of + Piccadilly Circus, crossed Trafalgar Square and stopped before Blackwell's + Hotel. Blackwell's has had a distinct clientele since the war; a sort of + headquarters for Southeastern European visitors to London. + </p> + <p> + When the carriage stopped Mrs. Farmingham opened the door herself, before + the footman could get down, and got out. It was the restless American + impatience always cropping out in this woman. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, young man,” she said, “and tell me whether this stuff is O. + K. or junk.” + </p> + <p> + They got in a lift and went up to the top floor of the hotel. Mrs. + Farmingham got out and Hargrave followed her along the hall to a door at + the end of a corridor. He could see her now clearly in the light. She had + gray eyes, a big determined mouth, and a mass of hair dyed as only a + Parisian expert, in the Rue de la Paix, can do it. She went directly to a + door at the end of the corridor, rapped on it with her gloved hand, and + turned the latch before anybody could possibly have responded. + </p> + <p> + Hargrave followed her into the room. It was a tiny sitting room, one of + the inexpensive rooms in the hotel. There was a bit of fire in the grate, + and standing by the mantelpiece was, a big old man with close-cropped hair + and a pale, unhealthy face. It was the type of face that one associates + with tribal races in Southeastern Europe. He was dressed in a uniform that + fitted closely to his figure. It was a uniform of some elevated rank, from + the apparent richness of it. There were one or two decorations on the + coat, a star and a heavy bronze medal. The man looked to be of some + importance; but this importance did not impress Mrs. Farmingham. + </p> + <p> + “Major,” she said in her direct fashion, “I have brought an expert to look + at the jewels.” + </p> + <p> + She indicated Hargrave, and the foreign officer bowed courteously. Then he + took two candles from the mantelpiece and placed them on a little table + that stood in the center of the room. + </p> + <p> + He put three chairs round this table, sat down in one of them, unbuttoned + the bosom of his coat and took out a big oblong jewel case. The case was + in an Oriental design and of great age. The embroidered silk cover was + falling apart. He opened the case carefully, delicately, like one handling + fragile treasure. Inside, lying each in a little pocket that exactly + fitted the outlines of the stone, were three rows of sapphires. He emptied + the jewels out on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, speaking with a queer, hesitating accent, “it saddens one + unspeakably to part with the ancient treasure of one's family.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Farmingham said nothing whatever. Hargrave stooped over the jewels + and spread them out on top of, the table. There were twenty-nine sapphires + of the very finest quality. He had never seen better sapphires anywhere. + He remembered seeing stones that were matched up better; but he had never + seen individual stones that were any finer in anybody's collection. The + foreigner was composed and silent while the American examined the jewels. + But Mrs. Farmingham moved restlessly in her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “are they O. K.?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” said Hargrave; “they are first-class stones.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure, madam,” replied the American. “There can be no question about + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they worth eighteen thousand dollars?” + </p> + <p> + She put the question in such a way that Hargrave understood her perfectly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “that depends upon a good many conditions. But I'm + willing to say, quite frankly, that if you don't want the jewels I'm ready + to take them for our house at eighteen thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + The big, dominant, aggressive woman made the gesture of one who cracks a + dog whip. + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” she said. Then she turned to the foreigner. “Now, + major, when do you want this money?” + </p> + <p> + The big old officer shrugged his shoulders and put out his hands. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow, madam; to-morrow as I have said to you; before midday I must + return. I can by no means remain an hour longer; my leave of absence + expires. I must be in Bucharest at sunrise on the morning of the twelfth + of October. I can possibly arrive if I leave London to-morrow at midday, + but not later.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Farmingham began to wag her head in a determined fashion. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” she said, “I can't get the money by noon. I have telegraphed + to the Credit Lyonnais in Paris. I can get it by the day after to-morrow, + or perhaps to-morrow evening.” + </p> + <p> + The foreigner looked down on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The woman interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, major, that's all nonsense! A day longer can't make any difference.” + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up and looked calmly at her. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “it would make all the difference in the world. If I + should remain one day over my time I might just as well remain all the + other days that are to follow it.” + </p> + <p> + There was finality and conviction in the man's voice. Mrs. Farmingham got + up and began to walk about the room. She seemed to speak to Hargrave, + although he imagined that she was speaking to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Now this is a pretty how-de-do,” she said “Lady Holbert told me about + this find to-night at dinner. She said Major Mikos wanted the money at + once; but I didn't suppose he wanted it cash on the hour like that. She + brought me right away after dinner to see him. And then I went for you.” + She stopped, and again made the gesture as of one who, cracks a dog whip. + “Now what shall I do?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The last remark was evidently not addressed to Hargrave. It was not + addressed to anybody. It was merely the reflection of a dominant nature + taking counsel with itself. She took another turn about the room. Then she + pulled up short. + </p> + <p> + “See here,” she said, “suppose you take these jewels and give the major + his money in the morning. Then I'll buy them of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, madam,” said Hargrave; “but in that event we shall charge you + a ten per cent commission.” + </p> + <p> + She stormed at that. + </p> + <p> + “Eighteen hundred dollars?” she said. “That's absurd, ridiculous! I'm + willing to pay you five hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + The American did not undertake to argue the matter with her. + </p> + <p> + “We don't handle any sale for a less commission,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Then he explained that he could not act as any sort of agent in the + matter; that the only thing he could do would be to buy the jewels + outright and resell them to her. His house would not make any sale for a + less profit than ten per cent. Hargrave did not propose to be involved in + any but a straight-out transaction. He was quite willing to buy the + sapphires for eighteen thousand dollars. There was five thousand dollars' + profit in them on any market. He was perfectly safe either way about. If + Mrs. Farmingham made the repurchase there was a profit of ten per cent. If + not, there was five thousand dollars' profit in the bargain under any + conditions. + </p> + <p> + They were Siamese stones, and the cutting was of an old design. They were + not from any stock in Europe. Hargrave knew what Europe held of sapphires. + These were from some Oriental stock. And everybody bought an Oriental + stone wherever he could get it. How the seller got it did not matter. + Nobody undertook to verify the title of a Siamese trader or a Burma agent. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Farmingham walked about for several minutes, saying over to herself + as she had said before: + </p> + <p> + “Now what shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + Then like the big, dominant, decisive nature that she was she came to a + conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” she said, “bring in the money in the morning and get the + sapphires. I'll take them up in a day or two. Good-by, major; come along, + Mr. Hargrave.” And she went out of the room. + </p> + <p> + The American stopped at the door to bow to the old Rumanian officer who + was standing up beside the table before the heap of sapphires. They got + into the carriage at the curb before Blackwell's Hotel. Mrs. Farmingham + put Hargrave down at the Empire Club, and the carriage passed on, across + Piccadilly Circus toward the Ritz. + </p> + <p> + The following morning Hargrave got the sapphires from Major Mikos, and + paid him eighteen thousand dollars in English sovereigns for them. He + wanted gold to carry back with him for the jewels that he had brought out + of the kingdom of Rumania. He seemed a simple, anxious person. He wished + to carry his treasures with him like a peasant. The sapphires looked + better in the daylight. There ought to have been seven thousand dollars' + profit in them, perhaps more; seven thousand dollars, at any rate, that + very day in the London market. Hargrave took them to the Empire Club and + put them in a sealed envelope in the steward's safe. + </p> + <p> + The thin drift of yellow remained in the city; that sulphurous haze that + the blanket of sea fog, moving over London, presses down into her streets. + It was not heavy yet; it was only a mist of saffron; but it threatened to + gather volume as the day advanced. + </p> + <p> + At luncheon Hargrave got a note from Mrs. Farmingham, a line scrawled on + her card to say that she would call for him at three o'clock. Her carriage + was before the door on the stroke of the hour, and she explained that the + money to redeem the jewels had arrived. The Credit Lyonnais had sent it + over from Paris. She seemed a bit puzzled about it. She had telegraphed + the Credit Lyonnais yesterday to send her eighteen thousand dollars. And + she had expected that the French banking house would have arranged for the + payment of the money through its English correspondent. But its telegram + directed her to go to the United Atlantic Express Company and receive the + money. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes cleared the puzzle. The office of the company is on the + Strand above the Savoy. Mrs. Farmingham went to the manager and showed him + a lot of papers she had in an official-looking envelope. After a good bit + of official pother the porters carried out a big portmanteau, a sort of + heavy leather traveling case, and put it into the carriage. Mrs. + Farmingham came to Hargrave where he stood by the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what do you think!” she said. “Of all the stupid idiots, give me a + French idiot to be the stupidest; they have actually sent me eighteen + thousand dollars in gold!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hargrave, “perhaps you asked them to send you eighteen + thousand dollars in gold.” + </p> + <p> + She closed her mouth firmly for a moment and looked him vacantly in the + face. + </p> + <p> + “What did I do?” she said, in the old manner of addressing an inquiry to + herself. “The major wanted gold and perhaps I said gold. Why, yes, I must + have said I wanted eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Well, at any rate, + here's the money to pay you for the sapphires. I'll telegraph the Credit + Lyonnais to send me your eighteen hundred, and you can come around to the + Ritz for it in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + She wished Hargrave to see that the telegram was properly worded, so the + stupid French would not undertake to ship another bag of coin to her. He + wrote it out, so there could be no mistake, and sent it from Charing Cross + on the way back to the club. + </p> + <p> + Hargrave had to get two porters to carry the leather portmanteau into his + room at the Empire Club. Mrs. Farmingham did not wait to receive the + sapphires. She said he could bring them over to the Ritz after he had + counted the money. She wanted a cup of tea; he could come along in an + hour. + </p> + <p> + It took Hargrave the whole of the hour to verify the money. The case had + been shipped, the straps were knotted tight and the lock was sealed. He + had to get a man from the outside to break the lock open. The man said it + was an American lock and he hadn't any implement to turn it. + </p> + <p> + There were eighteen thousand dollars in American twenty-dollar gold pieces + packed in sawdust in the bag. The Credit Lyonnais had followed Mrs. + Farmingham's directions to the letter. Such is the custom of the stupid + French! She had asked for eighteen thousand dollars in gold, and they had + sent her eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Hargrave put one of the pieces + into his waistcoat pocket. He wanted to show Mrs. Farmingham how strangely + the stupid French had made the blunder of doing precisely what she asked. + Then he strapped up the portmanteau, pushed it under the bed, went out and + locked the door. He asked the chief steward to put a man in the corridor + to see that no one went into his room while he was out. Then he got the + sapphires out of the safe and went over to the Ritz. + </p> + <p> + He met Mrs. Farmingham in the corridor coming out to her carriage. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Hargrave,” she said, “here you are. I just told the clerk to call + you up and tell you to bring the sapphires over in the morning when you + came for the draft. I promised Lady Holbert last night to come out to tea + at five. Forgot it until a moment ago.” + </p> + <p> + She took Hargrave along out to the carriage and he gave her the envelope. + She tore off the corner, emptied the sapphires into her hand, glanced at + them, and dropped them loose into the pocket of her coat. + </p> + <p> + “Was the money all right?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely all right,” replied the American. “The Credit Lyonnais, with + amazing stupidity, sent you precisely what you asked for in your + telegram.” And he showed her the twenty-dollar gold piece. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, the stupid darlings!” Then she laughed in her big, energetic + manner. “I'm not always a fool. Come in the morning at nine. Good-night, + Mr. Hargrave.” + </p> + <p> + And the carriage rolled across Piccadilly into Bond Street in the + direction of Grosvenor Square and Lady Holbert's. + </p> + <p> + The fog was settling down over London. Moving objects were beginning to + take on the loom of gigantic figures. It was getting difficult to see. + </p> + <p> + It must have taken Hargrave half an hour to reach the club. The first man + he saw when he went in was Sir Henry, his hands in the pockets of his + tweed coat and his figure blocking the passage. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Hargrave!” he cried. “What have you got in your room that old + Ponsford won't let me go up?” + </p> + <p> + “Not nine hundred horses!” replied the American. + </p> + <p> + The Baronet laughed. Then he spoke in a lower voice: + </p> + <p> + “It's extraordinary lucky that I ran over to the Sorbonne. Come along up + to your room and I'll tell you. This place is filling up with a lot of + thirsty swine. We can't talk in any public room of it.” + </p> + <p> + They went up the great stairway, lined with paintings of famous colonials + celebrated in the English wars, and into the room. Hargrave turned on the + light and poked up the fire. Sir Henry sat down by the table. He took out + his three newspapers and laid them down before him. + </p> + <p> + “My word, Hargrave,” he said, “old Arnold is a clever beggar! He cleared + the thing up clean as rain.” The Baronet spread the newspapers out before + him. + </p> + <p> + “We knew here at the Criminal Investigation Department that this thing was + a cipher of some sort, because we knew about these horses. We had caught + up with this business of importing horses. We knew the shipment was on the + way as I explained to you. But we didn't know the port that it would come + into.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the American, “did you find out?” + </p> + <p> + “My word,” he cried, “old Arnold laughed in my face. 'Ach, monsieur,' he + cried, mixing up several languages, 'it is Heidel's cipher! It is + explained in the seventeenth Criminal Archive at Gratz. Attend and I will + explain it, monsieur. It is always written in two paragraphs. The first + paragraph contains the secret message, and the second paragraph contains + the key to it. Voila! This message is in two paragraphs: + </p> + <p> + “'"P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlos from + N. Y. + </p> + <p> + “'"Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up.” + </p> + <p> + “'The hidden message is made up of certain words and capital letters + contained in the first paragraph, while the presence of the letter t in + the second paragraph indicates the words or capital letters that count in + the first. One has only to note the numerical position of the letter t in + the second paragraph in order to know what capital letter or word counts + in the first paragraph.'” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet took out a pencil and underscored the words in the second + paragraph of the printed cipher: “Have the bill of lading handed over to + our agent to check up.” + </p> + <p> + “You will observe that the second, the eighth and the eleventh words in + this paragraph begin with the letter t. Therefore, the second, the eighth + and the eleventh capital letters or words in the first paragraph make up + the hidden message.” + </p> + <p> + And again with his pencil he underscored the letters of the first + paragraph of the cipher: “P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight + steamer Don Carlos from N. Y.” + </p> + <p> + “So we get L, on, Don.” + </p> + <p> + “London!” cried Hargrave. “The nine-hundred horses are to come into + London!” + </p> + <p> + And in his excitement he took the gold piece out of his pocket and pitched + it up. He had been stooping over the table. The fog was creeping into the + room. And in the uncertain light about the ceiling he missed the gold + piece and it fell on the table before Sir Henry. The gold piece did not + ring, it fell dull and heavy, and the big Baronet looked at it openmouthed + as though it had suddenly materialized out of the yellow fog entering the + room. + </p> + <p> + “My word!” he cried. “One of the nine hundred horses!” + </p> + <p> + Hargrave stopped motionless like a man stricken by some sorcery. + </p> + <p> + “One of the nine hundred horses!” he echoed. + </p> + <p> + The Baronet was digging at the gold piece with the blade of his knife. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely! In the criminal argot a counterfeit American twenty-dollar + gold piece is called a 'horse.' + </p> + <p> + “Look,” he said, and he dug into the coin with his knife, “it's white + inside, made of Babbit metal, milled with a file and gold-plated. Where + did you get it?” + </p> + <p> + The American stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Where could I have gotten it?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” the Baronet said, “you might have got it from a big, old, + pasty-faced Alsatian; that would be 'Dago' Mulehaus. Or you might have got + it from an energetic, middle-aged, American woman posing as a social + leader in the States; that would be 'Hustling' Anne; both bad crooks, at + the head of an international gang of counterfeiters.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. The Spread Rails + </h2> + <p> + It was after dinner, in the great house of Sir Henry Marquis in St. + James's Square. + </p> + <p> + The talk had run on the value of women in criminal investigation; their + skill as detective agents... the suitability of the feminine intelligence + to the hard, accurate labor of concrete deductions. + </p> + <p> + It was the American Ambassadress, Lisa Lewis, who told the story. + </p> + <p> + It was a fairy night, and the thing was a fairy story. + </p> + <p> + The sun had merely gone behind a colored window. The whole vault of the + heaven was white with stars. The road was like a ribbon winding through + the hills. In little whispers, in the dark places, Marion told me it. We + sat together in the tonneau of the motor. It was past midnight, of a + heavenly September. We were coming in from a stately dinner at the + Fanshaws'. + </p> + <p> + A fairy story is a nice, comfortable human affair. It's about a hero, and + a thing no man could do, and a princess and a dragon. It tells how the + hero found the task that was too big for other men, how he accomplished + it, circumvented the dragon and won the princess. + </p> + <p> + The Arabian formula fitted snugly to the facts. + </p> + <p> + The great Dominion railroad, extending from Montreal into New York, was + having a run of terrible luck; one frightful wreck followed another. + Nobody could get the thing straightened out. Old Crewe, the railroad + commissioner of New York, was relentless in pressing hard conditions on + the road. Then out of the West, had come young Clinton Howard, big, tawny, + virile, like the race of heroes. He had cleaned out the tangles, set the + thing going, restored order and method; and the confidence of Canada was + flowing back. Then Howard had made love to Marion in his persistent + dominating fashion.... and here, with her whispered confession, was the + fairy story ended. + </p> + <p> + Marion pointed her finger out north, where, far across the valley, a great + country-house sat on the summit of a wooded hill. + </p> + <p> + “Clinton has discovered the Commissioner's secret, Sarah,” she said. “The + safety of the public isn't the only thing moving old Crewe to hammer the + railroad. He pretends it is. But in fact he wishes to get control of the + road in a bankrupt court.” + </p> + <p> + She paused. + </p> + <p> + “Crewe is a Nietzsche creature. Victory is the only thing with him. + Nothing else counts. The way the road was going he would have got it in + the bankrupt court by now. He's howling 'safety first' all over the + country. 'Negligence' is the big word in every report he issues. It won't + do for Clinton to have an accident now that any degree of human foresight + could have prevented.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, “the dragon will give the hero no further trouble. Dr. + Martin told mother to-day that Mr. Crewe's mind had broken down, and they + had brought him out from New York. He got up in a directors' meeting and + tried to kill the president of the Pacific Trust Company, with a chair. He + went suddenly mad, Dr. Martin said.” + </p> + <p> + Marion put out her hands in an unconscious gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I am not surprised,” she said. “That sort of temperament in the strain of + a great struggle is apt to break down and attempt to gain its end by some + act of direct violence.” + </p> + <p> + Then she added: + </p> + <p> + “My grandfather says in his work on evidence that the human mind if + dominated by a single idea will finally break out in some bizarre act. And + he cites the case of the minister who, having maneuvered in vain to + compass the death of the king by some sort of accident, finally undertook + to kill him with an andiron.” + </p> + <p> + She reflected a moment. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” she continued, “that the harm is already done. Crewe has + set the whole country on the watch. Clinton says there simply must not be + a slip anywhere now. The road must be safe; he must make it safe.” She + repeated her expression. + </p> + <p> + “An accident now that any sort of human foresight could prevent would ruin + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, it's an awful strain on us... on him,” she corrected. “He + simply can't be everywhere to see that everything is right and everybody + careful. And besides, there's the finances of the road to keep in shape. + He had to go to Montreal to-day to see about that.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned over toward me in her eager interest. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how he can sleep with the thing on him. The big trains must + go through on time, and every workman and every piece of machinery must be + right as a clock. I get in a panic. I asked him to-day if he thought he + could run a railroad like that, like a machine, everything in place on the + second, and he said, 'Sure, Mike!'” + </p> + <p> + I laughed. + </p> + <p> + “'Sure, Mike,”' I said, “is the spirit in which the world is conquered.” + </p> + <p> + And then the strange attraction of these two persons for one another arose + before me; this big, crude, virile, direct son of the hustling West, and + this delicate, refined, intellectual daughter of New England. The + ancestors of the man had been the fighting and the building pioneer. And + those of the girl, reflective people, ministers of the gospel and + counselors at law. Marion's grandfather had been a writer on the law. + Warfield on Evidence, had been the leading authority in this country. And + this ambitious girl had taken a special course in college to fit her to + revise her grandfather's great work. There was no grandson to undertake + this labor, and she had gone about the task herself. She would not trust + the great book to outside hands. A Warfield had written it, and a Warfield + should keep the edition up. Her revision was now in the hands of a + publisher in Boston, and it was sound and comprehensive, the critics said; + the ablest textbook on circumstantial evidence in America. I looked in a + sort of wonder at this girl, carried off her feet by a tawny barbarian! + </p> + <p> + Marion was absorbed in the thing; and I understood her anxiety. But the + most pressing danger, she did not seem to realize. + </p> + <p> + It lay, I thought, in the revenge of a discharged workman. Clinton Howard + had to drop any number of incompetent persons, and they wrote him all + sorts of threatening letters, I had been told. With all the awful things + that happen over the country some of these angry people might do anything. + There are always some half-mad people. + </p> + <p> + She went on. + </p> + <p> + “But Clinton says the public is as just as Daniel. If he has an accident + in the ordinary course of affairs the public will hold him for it. But if + anything should happen that he could not help, the public will not hold + him responsible.” + </p> + <p> + I realized the force of that. What reasonable human care could prevent he + must answer for, but the outrage of a criminal would not be taken in the + public mind against him. On the contrary, the sympathy of the public would + flow in. When the people feel that a man is making every effort for their + welfare, the criminal act of an outsider brings them over wholly to his + support. Profound interest carried Marion off her feet. + </p> + <p> + “I was in a panic the other day, and Clinton said, 'Don't let rotten luck + get your goat. I'm done if an engineer runs by a block, but nothing else + can put it over on me'!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed with me at the direct, virile idiom of young America in + action. + </p> + <p> + An event interrupted the discourse. The motor took a sharp curve and a + young man running across the road suddenly flung himself face down in the + grass beyond the curb. + </p> + <p> + “Is he hurt?” said Marion to the chauffeur. + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss, he's hiding, Miss,” said the man, and we swept out of sight. + </p> + <p> + I thought it more likely that the creature was in liquor. In spite of the + great country-houses, it was not good hunting-ground for the criminal + class, during the season when everybody was about. The very number of + servants, when a place is open, in a rather effective way, police it. + Besides the young man looked like a sort of workman. One gets such + impressions at a glance. + </p> + <p> + The motor descended the long hill toward the river and the flat valley. It + hummed into the curves and hollows, through the pockets of chill air, and + out again into the soft September night. + </p> + <p> + Then finally it swept out into the flat valley, and stopped with a grind + of the emergency brake that caused the wheels to skid, ripping up the dust + and gravel. For a moment in the jar and confusion we did not realize what + had happened, then we saw a great locomotive lying on its side, and a line + of Pullmans, sunk to the axles in the soft earth. + </p> + <p> + The whole “Montreal Express” was derailed, here in the flat land at the + grade crossing. The thing had been done some time. The fire had been drawn + from the engine; there was only a sputtering of steam. The passengers had + been removed. A wrecking-car had come up from down the line. A telegrapher + was setting up a little instrument on a box by the roadside. A lineman was + climbing a pole to connect his wire. A track boss with a torch and a crew + of men were coming up from an examination of the line littered with its + wreck. + </p> + <p> + I hardly know what happened in the next few minutes. We were out of the + motor and among the men almost before the car stopped. + </p> + <p> + No one had been hurt. The passenger-coaches were not turned over, and the + engineer and fireman had jumped as the cab toppled. By the greatest good + fortune the train had gone off the track in this low flat land almost + level with the grade. Several things joined to avoid a terrible disaster; + the flat ground that enabled the whole train to plow along upright until + it stopped, the track lying flush with the highway where the engine went + off, and the fact that trains must slow up for this grade crossing. Had + there been an embankment, or a big ditch, or the train under its usual + headway the wreck would have been a horror, for every wheel, from the + engine to the last coach, had left the rails. + </p> + <p> + We were an excited group around the train's crew, when the trackman came + up with his torch. Everybody asked the same question as the man + approached. + </p> + <p> + “What caused the accident?” + </p> + <p> + “Spread rails,” he said. “These big brutes,” he pointed to the mammoth + engine sprawling like a child's top on its side, the gigantic wheels in + the air, “and these new steel coaches, are awful heavy. There's an upgrade + here. When they struck it, they just spread out the rails.” + </p> + <p> + And he pushed his closed hands out before him, slowly apart, in + illustration. + </p> + <p> + The man knew Marion, for he spoke directly to her in reply to our + concerted query. Then he added “If you step down the track, Miss Warfield, + I'll show you exactly how it happened.” + </p> + <p> + We followed the big workman with his torch. Marion walked beside him, and + I a few steps behind. The girl had been plunged, on the instant, headlong + into the horror she feared, into the ruin that she had lain awake over—and + yet she met it with no sign, except that grim stiffening of the figure + that disaster brings to persons of courage. She gave no attention to her + exquisite gown. It was torn to pieces that night; my own was a ruin. The + crushing effect of this disaster swept out every trivial thing. + </p> + <p> + In a moment we saw how the accident happened, the workman lighting the + sweep of track with his torch. Here were the plow marks on the wooden + cross ties, where the wheels had run after they left the rails. One saw + instantly that the thing happened precisely as the workman explained it. + When the heavy engine struck the up-grade, the rails had spread, the + wheels had gone down on the cross-ties, and the whole train was derailed. + </p> + <p> + I saw it with a sickening realization of the fact. + </p> + <p> + Marion took the workman's torch and went over the short piece of track on + which the thing had happened. All the evidences of the accident were + within a short distance. The track was not torn up when the thing began. + There was only the displaced rail pushed away, and the plow marks of the + wheels on the ties. The spread rails had merely switched the train off the + track onto the level of the highway roadbed into the flat field. + </p> + <p> + Marion and the workman had gone a little way down the track. I was quite + alone at the point of accident, when suddenly some one caught my hand. + </p> + <p> + I was so startled that I very nearly screamed. The thing happened so + swiftly, with no word. + </p> + <p> + There behind me was a woman, an old foreign woman, a peasant from some + land of southern Europe. She had my hand huddled up to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + And she began to speak, bending her aged body, and with every expression + of respect. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Contessa, he is not do it, my Umberto. He is run away in fear to hide + in the Barrington quarry. It is accident. It is the doing of the good God. + Ah, Contessa,” and her old lips dabbed against my hand. “I beg him to not + go, but he is discharge; an' he make the threat like the great fool. Ah, + Contessa, Contessa,” and she went over the words with absurd repetition, + “believe it is by chance, believe it is the doing of the good God, I pray + you.” And so she ran on in her quaint old-world words. + </p> + <p> + Instantly I remembered the man lying by the roadside, and the threats of + discharged workmen. + </p> + <p> + I told her the thing was a clean accident, and tried to show her how it + came about. She was effusive in gratitude for my belief. But she seemed + concerned about Marion and the others. She did not go away; she went over + and sat down beside the track. + </p> + <p> + Presently the others returned. They were so engrossed that they did not + notice my adventure or the aged woman seated on the ground. + </p> + <p> + Marion was putting questions to the workman. + </p> + <p> + “There was no obstruction on the track?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss.” + </p> + <p> + “The engineer was watching?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield, he had to slow up and be careful about the crossing. + There is no curve on this grade, he could see every foot of the way. The + track was clear and in place, and he was watching it. There was nothing on + it.—The rails simply spread under the weight of the engine.” + </p> + <p> + And he began to comment on the excessive size and weight of the huge + modern passenger engine. + </p> + <p> + “The brute drove the rails apart,” he said, “that's all there is to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Was the track in repair?” said Marion. + </p> + <p> + “It was patrolled to-day, Miss, and it was all in shape.” + </p> + <p> + Then he repeated: + </p> + <p> + “The big engine just pushed the rails out.” + </p> + <p> + “But the road is built for this type of engine,” said Marion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield,” replied the man, “it's supposed to be, but every + roadbed gets a spread rail sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “It has to be mighty solid to hold these hundred ton engines on the rails + at sixty miles an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “It does hold them,” said Marion. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield, usually,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Then why should it fail here?” + </p> + <p> + The man's big grimy face wrinkled into a sort of smile. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Miss Warfield,” he said, “if we knew why an accident was likely to + happen at one place more than another we wouldn't have any wrecks.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” replied Marion, “but isn't it peculiar that the track should + spread at the synclinal of this grade with the train running at a reduced + speed, when it holds on the synclinal of other grades with the train + running at full speed?” + </p> + <p> + The man's big face continued to smile. + </p> + <p> + “All accidents are peculiar, Miss Warfield; that's what makes them + accidents.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Marion, “is not the aspect of these peculiarities indicatory + of either a natural event or one designed by a human intelligence?” + </p> + <p> + The man fingered his torch. + </p> + <p> + “Mighty strange things happen, Miss Warfield. I've seen a train go over + into a canal and one coach lodge against a tree that was standing exactly + in the right place to save it. And I've seen a passenger engine run by a + signal and through a block and knock a single car out of a passing + freight-train, at a crossing, and that car be the very one that the + freight train's brakeman had just reached on his way to the caboose; just + like somebody had timed it all, to the second, to kill him. And I've seen + a whole wreck piled up, as high as a house, on top of a man, and the man + not scratched.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean the coincidence of accident,” said Marion, “that is a + mystery beyond us; what I mean is that there must be an organic difference + in the indicatory signs of a thing as it happens in the course of nature, + and as it happens by human arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + The trackman was a person accustomed to the reality and not the theory of + things. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how the accident would have been any different,” he said, “if + somebody had put that tree in the right spot to catch the coach; or timed + the minute with a stop-watch to kill that brakeman; or piled that wreck on + the man so it wouldn't hurt him. The result would have been just the + same.” + </p> + <p> + “The result would have been the same,” replied Marion, “but the + arrangement of events would have been different.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what way different, Miss Warfield?” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot formulate an iron rule about that,” replied Marion, “but as a + general thing catastrophes in nature seem to lack a motive, and their + contributing events are not forced.” + </p> + <p> + The big trackman was a person of sound practical sense. He knew what + Marion was after, but he was confused by the unfamiliar terms in which the + idea was stated. + </p> + <p> + “It's mighty hard to figure out,” he said. “Of course, when you find an + obstruction on the track or a crowbar under a rail, or some plain thing, + you know.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “You've got to figure out a wreck from what seems likely.” + </p> + <p> + “There you have it exactly,” said Marion. “You must begin your + investigation from what your common experience indicates is likely to + happen. Now, your experience indicates that the rails of a track sometimes + spread under these heavy engines.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield.” + </p> + <p> + “And your experience indicates that this is more likely to happen at the + first rise of the synclinal on a grade than anywhere on a straight track.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Marion, “so far. But does not your experience also indicate + that such an accident usually happens when the train is running at a high + rate of speed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield,” said the man. “It's far more likely to happen then, + because the engine strikes the rails at the first rise of the grade with + more force. Naturally a thing hits harder when it's going... But it might + happen with a slow train.” + </p> + <p> + Marion made a gesture as of one rejecting the man's final sentence. + </p> + <p> + “When you turn that way,” she said, “you at once leave the lines of + greatest probability. Why should you follow the preponderance of common + experience on two features here, and turn aside from it on the third + feature?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the thing happened,” replied the man, with the directness of + those practical persons who drive through to the fact. + </p> + <p> + “That is to say an unlikely thing happened!” Marion made a decisive + gesture with her clenched fingers. “Thus, the inquiry, beginning with two + consistent elements, now comes up against one that is inconsistent.” + </p> + <p> + “But not impossible,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Possible,” said Marion, “but not likely. Not to be expected, not in line + with the preponderance of common experience; therefore, not to be passed. + We have got to stop here and try to find out why this track spread under a + slow train.” + </p> + <p> + “But we see it spread, Miss Warfield,” said the trackman with a conclusive + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “True,” replied Marion, “we see that it did spread, under this condition, + but why?” + </p> + <p> + The old woman sitting beside the track seemed to realize what was under + way; for she rose and came over to where I stood. “Contessa,” she + whispered, in those quaint, old world words, “do not reveal, what I have + tol'. I pray you!” + </p> + <p> + And she followed me across the few steps to where the others stood. + </p> + <p> + I did not answer. I stood like one in some Hellenic drama, between two + tragic figures. The love of woman lay in the solution of this problem—in + the beginning and at the end of life. + </p> + <p> + Marion and the big track boss continued with this woman looking on. + </p> + <p> + I feared to speak or move; the thing was like a sort of trap, set with + ghastly cunning, by some evil Fate. The ruin of a woman it would have. And + perhaps on the vast level plain where it evilly dwelt, through its hard + all-seeing eyes, the ruin and the sorrow either way would be precisely + equal. How could I, then, lay a finger on the scale. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Marion, “when the engine reached this point on the track, one + of the rails gave way first.” + </p> + <p> + The big workman looked steadily at her. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that, Miss Warfield?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” replied Marion, “the marks of the wheels of the locomotive on + the ties are found, in the beginning, only on one side of the track, + showing that the rail on that side gave way, when the engine struck it, + and the other rail for some distance bore the weight of the train.” + </p> + <p> + She illustrated with her hands. + </p> + <p> + “When the one rail was pushed out, the wheels on that side went down and + continued on the ties, while the wheels on the other side went ahead on + the firm rail.” + </p> + <p> + The workman saw it. + </p> + <p> + “That's true, Miss Warfield,” he said, “one rail sometimes spreads and the + other holds solid.” + </p> + <p> + Marion was absorbed in the problem. + </p> + <p> + “But why should the one rail give way like this and its companion hold?” + </p> + <p> + “One of the rails might not be as solid as the other,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “But it should have been nearly as solid,” replied Marion. “This piece of + track, you tell me, was examined to-day; the ties are equally sound on + both sides, the rail is the same weight. We have the right to conclude + then that each of these rails was about in the same condition. I do not + say precisely in the same condition. Now, it is true that under these + conditions one of the rails might have been pushed out of alignment before + the other. We can grant a certain factor of difference, a certain + reasonable factor of difference. But not a great factor of difference. We + have a right to conclude that one rail would give way before the other. + But not that one would very readily give way before the other. For some + reason this particular rail did give way, much more readily than it ought + to have done.” + </p> + <p> + The trackman was listening with the greatest interest. + </p> + <p> + “Just how do you know that, Miss Warfield?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied Marion, “don't you see, from the mark on the ties, that the + engine wheels left the rail almost at the moment they struck it. The marks + of the wheels commence on the second tie ahead of the beginning of the + rail. Therefore, this rail, for some reason, was more easily pushed out of + alignment than it should have been. What was the reason?” + </p> + <p> + The track boss reflected. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Miss Warfield, this place is the beginning of an up-grade, the + engine was coming down a long grade toward it, so when this train struck + the first rails of the up-grade it struck it just like you'd drive in a + wedge, and the hundred-ton brute of an engine jammed this rail out of + alignment. That's all there is to it. When the rail sprung the wheels went + down on the ties on that side and the train was ditched.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a clean accident, then, you think?” said Marion. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Miss Warfield,” replied the man. “If anybody had tried to move that + rail out of alignment, he would have to disconnect it at the other end, + that is, take off the plate that joins it to the next rail. That would + leave the end of the rail clean, with no broken plate. But the end of the + rail is bent and the plate is twisted off. We looked at that the first + thing. Nobody could twist that plate off. The engine did it when it left + the track. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Miss Warfield, the weight of the engine, like a wedge, simply + forced one of these rails out of alignment. Don't you understand how a + hundred ton wedge driven against the track, at the start of an upgrade, + could do it?” + </p> + <p> + The old peasant woman stood behind the track boss. The thing was a sort of + awful game. She did not speak, but the vicissitudes of the inquiry + advanced her, or retired her, with the effect of points, won or lost. + </p> + <p> + “I understand perfectly,” replied Marion, “how the impact of the heavy + engine might drive both rails out of alignment, if they offered an equal + resistance, or one of them out if it offered a less resistance. This is + straight track. The wedge would go in even. It should have spread the + rails equally. That's the probable thing. But instead it did the + improbable thing; it spread one. I hold the improbable thing always in + question. Human knowledge is built up on that postulate. + </p> + <p> + “True, a certain factor of difference in conditions must be allowed, as I + have said, but an excessive factor cannot be allowed. We have got to find + it, or discard human reason as an implement for getting at the truth.” + </p> + <p> + Again the big track boss smashed through the niceties of logic. + </p> + <p> + “These things happen all the time, Miss Warfield. You can't figure it + out.” + </p> + <p> + “One ought to be able to determine it,”' replied the girl. + </p> + <p> + The track boss shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “We can't tell what made that rail give.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, we can tell,” said Marion. “It gave because it was weakened.” + </p> + <p> + “But what weakened it?” replied the man. “You can't tell that? The rail's + sound.” + </p> + <p> + “There could be only two causes,” said Marion. “It was either weakened by + a natural agency or a human agency.” + </p> + <p> + The track boss made an annoyed gesture, like a practical person vexed with + the refinements of a theorist. + </p> + <p> + “But how are you going to tell?” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Marion, “there is always a point as you follow a thing down, + where the human design in it must appear, if there is a human design in + it. The human mind can falsify events within a limited area. But if one + keeps moving out, as from a center, he will find somewhere this point at + which intelligence is no longer able to imitate the aspect of the result + of natural forces... I think we have reached it.” + </p> + <p> + She paused and drove her query at the track boss. + </p> + <p> + “The spikes on the outside of this rail held it in place, did they not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Did the impact of the engine force these spikes out of the ties?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Warfield, it forced them out.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it forced them out?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Warfield,” said the man, pointing to the rail and the denuded + cross-ties, don't you see they're out?” + </p> + <p> + “I see that they are out,” replied Marion, “but I do not yet see that they + have been forced out.” + </p> + <p> + She moved a step closer to the track boss and her voice hardened. “If + these spikes were forced out by the impact of the engine, we ought to find + torn spike holes inclining toward the end of the crossties.... Look!” + </p> + <p> + The big practical workman suddenly realized what the girl meant. + </p> + <p> + He stooped over and began to flash his torch along the end of the ties. We + crowded against him. Every one of the spike holes, for the entire length + of the rail, was straight and clean. The man seized one of the spikes and + scrutinized it under his torch. + </p> + <p> + Then he stood up. For a moment he did not speak. He merely looked at + Marion. “It's the holy truth!” he said. “Somebody pulled these spikes with + a clawbar. That weakened the rail, and she bowed out when the engine + struck her.” + </p> + <p> + Then he turned around, and shouted down the track to his crew. “Hey, boys! + Spread out along the right of way and see if you can't find a claw-bar. + The devils that do these tricks always throw away their tools.” + </p> + <p> + We stood together in a little tragic group. The old peasant woman came + over to where I stood, she walked with a dead, wooden step. “Contessa,” + she whispered, her old lips against my hand. “You will save him?” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly with a wild human resentment, I longed to cut a way out of + the trap of this Fatality; to force its ruthless decree into a sort of + equity, if I could do it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, “I will save him!” + </p> + <p> + It was an impulse with no plan behind it. But the dabbing of the withered + mouth on my fingers was like actual physical contact with a human heart. + </p> + <p> + For a moment she looked at me as one among the damned might look at + Michael. Then she went slowly away, down through the wooded copse of the + meadow. And I turned about to meet Marion. I knew that she was now after + the identity of the wrecker, and I faced her to foul her lines. + </p> + <p> + “This is not the work of one with murder in his heart,” she said “A + criminal agent set on a ruthless destruction of property and life would + have drawn these spikes on a trestle or an embankment, at a point where + the train would be running at high speed.” + </p> + <p> + She paused for a moment, then she went on speaking to me as though she + merely uttered her mental comment to herself. + </p> + <p> + “These spikes are drawn at a point where the train slows down for a + crossing and precisely where the engine would go off onto the hard + road-bed of the highway into a level meadow. That means some one planned + this wreck to result in the least destruction of life and property + possible. Now, what class of persons could be after the effect of a wreck, + exclusive of a loss of life?” + </p> + <p> + I saw where her relentless deductions would presently lead. This was + precisely the result that a discharged foreign workman would seek in his + reprisal. This man would have hot blood, the southern Europe instinct for + revenge, but with such a mother, no mere lust to kill. I tried to divert + her from the fugitive. + </p> + <p> + “Train robbers,” I said. “I wonder what was in the express-car?” + </p> + <p> + She very nearly laughed. “This is New York,” she said, “not Arizona. And + besides there was no express-car. This thing was done by somebody who + wanted the effect of a wreck, and nothing else, and it was done by some + one who knew about railroads. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what class of persons who know about railroads could be moved by + that motive?” + </p> + <p> + She was driving straight now at the boy I stood to cover. At another step + she would name the class. Discharged workmen would know about railroads; + they would be interested to show how less efficient the road was without + them; and a desperate one might plan such a wreck as a demonstration. If + so, he would wish only the effect of the wreck, and not loss of life. + Marion was going dead ahead on the right line, in another moment she would + remember the man we passed, and the “black band” letters. I made a final + desperate effort to divert her. + </p> + <p> + “Come along!” I called, “the first thing to do now is to talk with Clinton + Howard. The nearest telephone will be at Crewe's house on the hill.” + </p> + <p> + And it won. + </p> + <p> + “Lisa!” she cried, “you're right I We must tell him at once.” + </p> + <p> + We hurried down the track to the motor-car. I had gained a little time. + But how could I keep my promise. And the next moment the problem became + more difficult. The track boss came up with a short iron bar that his men + had found in the weeds along the right of way. + </p> + <p> + “There's the claw-bar, that the devil done it with,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You can tell it's just been handled by the way the rust's rubbed off.” + </p> + <p> + It was conclusive evidence. Everybody could see how the workman's hands, + as he labored with the claw-bar to draw the spikes, had cleaned off the + rust. + </p> + <p> + I hurried the motor away. We raced up the long winding road to Crewe's + country-house, sitting like a feudal castle on the summit. And I wondered, + at every moment, how I could keep my promise. The boy was a criminal, + deserving to be hanged, no doubt, but the naked mother's heart that had + dabbed against my fingers overwhelmed me. + </p> + <p> + Almost in a flash, I thought, we were in the grounds and before Crewe's + house. Then I noticed lights and a confusion of voices. No one came to + meet us. And we got out of the motor and went in through the open door. We + found a group of excited servants. An old butler began to stammer to + Marion. + </p> + <p> + “It was his heart, Miss... the doctor warned the attendants. But he got + away to-night. It was overexertion, Miss. He fell just now as the + attendants brought him in.” And he flung open the library door. + </p> + <p> + On a leather couch illumined by the brilliant light, Crewe lay; his + massive relentless face with the great bowed nose, like the iron cast of + what Marion had called a Nietzsche creature, motionless in death; his arms + straight beside him with the great gloved hands open. + </p> + <p> + And all at once, at the sight, with a heavenly inspiration, I kept my + promise. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” I cried. “Oh, everybody, how the palms of his gloves are covered + with rust!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. The Pumpkin Coach + </h2> + <p> + The story of the American Ambassadress was not the only one related on + this night. + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry Marquis himself added another, in support of the contention of + his guest... and from her own country. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer walked about the room. The restraint which he had assumed was + now quite abandoned. + </p> + <p> + “That's all there is to it,” he said. “I'm not trying this case for + amusement. You have the money to pay me and you must bring it up here now, + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + The woman sat in a chair beyond the table. She was young, but she looked + worn and faded. Misery and the long strain of the trial had worn her out. + Her hands moved nervously in the frayed coat-cuffs. + </p> + <p> + “But we haven't any more money,” she said. “The hundred dollars I paid you + in the beginning is all we have.” + </p> + <p> + The man laughed without disturbing the muscles of his face. “You can take + your choice,” he said. “Either bring the money up here now, to-night, or I + withdraw from the case when court opens in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “But where am I to get any more money?” the woman said. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer was a big man. His hair, black and thin, was brushed close to + his head as though wet with oil; his nose was thick and flattened at the + base. The office contained only a table, some chairs and a file for legal + papers. Night was beginning to descend. Lights were appearing in the city. + The two persons had come in from the Criminal Court after the session for + the day had ended. + </p> + <p> + The woman seemed bewildered. She looked at the man with the curious + expression of a child that does not comprehend and is afraid to ask for an + explanation. + </p> + <p> + “If we had any more money,” she said, “I would bring it to you, but the + hundred dollars was all we had.” + </p> + <p> + Then she began to explain, reiterating minute details. When the tragedy + occurred and her husband was arrested by the police they had a small sum + painfully saved up. It was now wholly gone. Like persons in profound + misery, she repeated. The man halted the recital with a brutal gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not discuss it,” he said. “You can bring the money in here before + the court convenes in the morning, or I withdraw from the case.” + </p> + <p> + He went over to the file, took out a packet of legal papers and threw them + on the table. + </p> + <p> + “All right, my lady!” he said, “perhaps you think your husband can get + along without a lawyer. Perhaps you think the devil will save him, or + heaven, or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!” There was biting irony in the + bitter words. + </p> + <p> + A sudden comprehension began to appear in the woman's face. She realized + now what the man was driving at. The expression in her face deepened into + a sort of wonder, a sort of horror. + </p> + <p> + “You think he's guilty!” she said. “You think we got the money and we're + trying to keep it, to hide it.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer turned about, put both hands on the table and leaned across it. + He looked the woman in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what I believe; you heard what I said!” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the woman did not move. Then she got up slowly and went out. + In the street she seemed lost. She remained for some time before the + entrance of the building. Night had now arrived. Crowds of people were + passing, intent on their affairs, unconcerned. No one seemed to see the + figure motionless in the shadow of the great doorway. + </p> + <p> + Presently the woman began to walk along the street in the crowd without + giving any attention to the people about her or to the direction she was + taking. She was in that state of mental coma which attends persons in + despair. She neither felt nor appreciated anything and she continued to + walk in the direction in which the crowd was moving. + </p> + <p> + Some block in the traffic checked the crowd and the woman stopped. The + block cleared and the human tide drifted on, but the woman remained. The + crowd edged her over to the wall and she stood there before the shutter of + a shop-window. After a time the crowd passed, thinned and disappeared, but + the woman remained as though thrown out there by the human eddy. + </p> + <p> + The woman remained for a long time unmoving against the shutter of the + shop-window. Finally she was awakened into life by a voice speaking to + her. It was a soft, foreign voice that lisped the liquid accents of the + occasional English words: + </p> + <p> + “Ma pauvre femme!” it said; “come with me. Vous etes malade!” + </p> + <p> + The woman followed mechanically in a sort of wonder. The person who had + spoken to her was young and beautifully dressed in furs that covered her + to her feet. She had gotten down from a motorcar that stood beside the + curb—one of those modern vehicles, fitted with splendid trappings. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the shop-window was a great cafe. The girl entered and the woman + followed. The attendants came forward to welcome the splendid visitor as + one whose arrival at this precise hour of the evening had become a sort of + custom. She gave some directions in a language which the woman did not + understand, and they were seated at a table. + </p> + <p> + The waiters brought a silver dish filled with a clear, steaming soup and + served it. The girl threw back her fur coat and the dazed woman realized + how beautiful she was. Her hair was yellow like ripe corn and there were + masses of it banked and clustered about her head; her eyes were blue, and + her voice, soft and alluring, was like a friendly arm put around the + heart. + </p> + <p> + The miserable woman was so confused by this transformation—by the + sudden swing of the door in the wall that had admitted her into this new, + unfamiliar world—that she was never afterward able to remember + precisely by what introductory words her story was drawn out. She found + herself taken up, comforted and made to tell it. + </p> + <p> + Her husband had been a butler in the service of a Mr. Marsh, an eccentric + man who lived in one of the old downtown houses of the city. He was a + retired banker with no family. The man lived alone. He permitted no + servants in the house except the butler. Meals were sent in on order from + a neighboring hotel and served by the butler as the man directed. He + received few visitors in the house and no tradespeople were permitted to + come in. There seemed no reason for this seclusion except the + eccentricities of the man that had grown more pronounced with advancing + years. + </p> + <p> + It was the custom of the butler to leave the house at eight o'clock in the + evening and return in the morning at seven. On the morning of the third of + February, when the butler entered the house, as he was accustomed to do at + eight o'clock in the morning, he found his master dead. + </p> + <p> + The woman continued with her narrative, speaking slowly. Every detail was + vividly impressed upon her memory and she gave it accurately, precisely. + </p> + <p> + There was a narrow passage or hall, not more than three feet in width, + leading from the butler's pantry into a little dining-room. This + dining-room the old man had fitted up as a sort of library. It was farther + than any other room from the noises of the city. His library table was + placed with one end against the left wall of the room and he sat with his + back toward the passage into the butler's pantry. On the morning of the + third of February he was found dead in his chair. He had been stabbed in + the back, on the left side, where the neck joins to the shoulder. A + carving-knife had been used and a single blow had accomplished the murder. + </p> + <p> + It was known that on the evening before the old banker had taken from a + safety-deposit vault the sum of $20,000, which it was his intention to + invest in some securities. This money, in bills of very large + denominations, was in the top drawer on the right side of the desk. The + dead man had apparently not been touched after the crime, but the drawer + had been pried open and the money taken. An ice-pick from the butler's + pantry had been used to force it. The assassin had left no marks, + finger-prints or tell-tale stains. The victim had been instantly killed + with the blow of the knife which lay on the floor beside him. + </p> + <p> + The butler had been arrested, charged with the crime, and his trial was + now going on in the Criminal Court. Circumstantial evidence was strong + against him. The woman spoke as though she echoed the current comment of + the courtroom without realizing how it affected her. She had done what she + could. She had employed an attorney at the recommendation of a person who + had come to interview her. She did not know who the person was nor why she + should have employed this attorney at his suggestion, except that some one + must be had to defend her husband, and uncertain what to do, she had gone + to the first name suggested. + </p> + <p> + The girl listened, putting now and then a query. She spoke slowly, careful + to use only English words. And while the woman talked she made a little + drawing on the blank back of a menu card. Now she began to question the + woman minutely about the details of the room and the position of the + furniture where the tragedy had occurred, the desk, the attitude of the + dead man, the location of the wound, and exact distances. And as the woman + repeated the evidence of the police officers and the experts, the girl + filled out her drawing with nice mathematical exactness like one + accustomed to such a labor. + </p> + <p> + This was the whole story, and now the woman added the final interview with + the attorney. She made a sort of hopeless gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody believes us,” she said. “My husband did not kill him. He was at + home with me. He knew nothing about it until he found his master dead at + the table in the morning. But there is only our word against all the + lawyers and detectives and experts that Mr. Thompson has brought against + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is Mr. Thompson?” said the girl. She was deep in a study of her + little drawing. + </p> + <p> + “He's Mr. Marsh's nephew, Mr. Percy Thompson.” + </p> + <p> + The girl, absorbed in the study of her drawing, now put an unexpected + question. + </p> + <p> + “Has your husband lost an arm?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “he never had any sort of accident.” + </p> + <p> + A great light came into the girl's face. “Then I believe you,” she said. + “I believe every word.... I think your husband is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was aglow with an enthusiastic purpose. It was all there in her + fine, expressive face. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, “tell me about this nephew, this Mr. Percy Thompson. + Could we by any chance see him?” + </p> + <p> + “It won't do any good to see him,” replied the woman. “He is determined to + convict my husband. Nothing can change him.” + </p> + <p> + The girl went on without paying any attention to the comment. “Where does + he live—you must have heard?” + </p> + <p> + “He lives at the Markheim Hotel,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “The Markheim Hotel,” repeated the girl. “Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + The woman gave the street and number. The girl rose. “That's on my way; + we'll stop.” + </p> + <p> + The two-went out of the cafe to the motor. The whole thing, incredible at + any other hour, seemed to the woman like events happening in a dream or in + some topsy-turvy country which she had mysteriously entered. + </p> + <p> + She sat back in the tonneau of the motor, huddled into the corner, a rug + around her shoulders. The flashing lights seemed those of some distant, + unknown city, as though she were transported into the scene of an Arabian + tale. + </p> + <p> + The motor stopped before a little shabby hotel in a neighboring + cross-street, and the footman, in livery beside the driver, got down at a + direction of the girl and went up the steps. In a few moments a man came + out and descended to the motor standing by the curb. He was about middle + age. He looked as though Nature had intended him, in the beginning, for a + person of some distinction, but he had the dissipated face of one at + middle age who had devoted his years to a life of pleasure. There were + hard lines about his mouth and a purple network of veins showing about the + base of his nose. + </p> + <p> + As he approached the girl, leaning out of the open window of the tonneau, + dropped her glove as by inadvertence. The man stooped, recovered it and + returned it to her. The girl started with a perceptible gesture. Then she + cried out in her charming voice, + </p> + <p> + “Merci, monsieur. I stopped a moment to thank you for the flowers you sent + me last night. It was lovely of you!” and she indicated the bunch of roses + pinned to her corsage. + </p> + <p> + The man seemed astonished. For a moment he hesitated as though about to + make some explanation, but the girl went on without regarding his visible + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not escape with a denial,” she said. “There was no card and you + did not do me the honor to wait at the door, but I know you sent them—an + usher saw you; you shall not escape my appreciation. You did send them?” + she said. + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. “Sure,” he said, “if you insist.” He was willing to + profit by this unexpected error, and the girl went on: + </p> + <p> + “I have worn the roses to-day,” she said, “for you. Will you wear one of + them to-morrow for me?” + </p> + <p> + She detached a bud and leaned out of the door of the motor. She pinned the + bud to the lapel of the man's coat. She did it slowly, deliberately, like + one who makes the touch of the fingers do the service of a caress. + </p> + <p> + Then she spoke to the driver and the motor went on, leaving the amazed man + on the curb before the shabby Markheim Hotel with the rosebud pinned to + his coat—astonished at the incredible fortune of this favor from an + inaccessible idol about whom the city raved. + </p> + <p> + The woman accepted the enigma of this interview as she had accepted the + wonder of the girl's sudden appearance and the other, incidents of this + extraordinary night. She did not undertake to imagine what the drawing on + the menu meant, the words about the one-armed man, the glove dropped for + Thompson to pick up, the rose pinned on his coat; it was all of a piece + with the mystery that she had stumbled into. + </p> + <p> + When the motor stopped and she was taken through a little door by an + attendant into a theater box, she accepted that as another of these things + into which she could not inquire; things that happened to her outside of + her volition and directed by authorities which she could not control. + </p> + <p> + The staging of the opera refined and extended the illusion that she had + been transported out of the world by some occult agency. The wonderful + creature that had taken her up out of her abandoned misery before the + sordid shop-shutter appeared now in a fairy costume glittering with + jewels. And the gnomes, the monsters and goblins appearing about her were + all fabulous creatures, as the girl herself seemed a fabulous creature. + </p> + <p> + She sighed like one who must awaken from the splendor of a dream to + realities of which the sleeper is vaguely conscious. Only the girl's voice + seemed real. It seemed some great, heavenly reality like the sunlight or + the sweep of the sea. It filled the packed places of the theater. She sang + and one believed again in the benevolence of heaven; in immortal love. To + the distressed woman effacing herself in the corner of the empty box it + was all a sort of inconceivable witch-work. + </p> + <p> + And it was witch-work, as potent if not as amply fitted with dramatic + properties as the witchwork of ancient legend. + </p> + <p> + The daughter of an obscure juge d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud, + singing in a Swiss meadow, had been taken up by a wealthy American, + traveling in Switzerland on an April morning-old, enervated with the sun + of the Riviera, and displeased with life. And this rich old woman, her + rheumatic fingers loaded with jewels, had transformed the daughter of the + juge d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud into a singing wonder that made + every human creature see again the dreams of his youth before him leading + into the Elysian Fields. + </p> + <p> + And to the girl herself this transformation also seemed the wonder of + witch-work. Her early life lay so far below in a world remote and + detached; a little house in a village of the Canton of Vaud with the + genteel poverty that attended the slender salary of a juge d'instruction, + and the weight of duties that accumulated on her shoulders. Her father's + life was given over to the labors of criminal investigation, but it was a + field that returned nothing in the way of material gain. Honorable + mention, a medal, the distinction of having his reports copied into the + official archives, were the fruits of the man's life. She remembered the + minutely exhaustive details of those reports which she used to copy + painfully at night by the light of a candle. The old man, absorbed by his + deductions, with his trained habits of observation and his prodigious + memory, never seemed to realize the drudgery imposed upon the girl by his + endless dictation. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” the heavenly creature had said softly, like a caress, in the + woman's ear when an attendant had taken her through the little door into + the empty box. But the to-morrow broke with every illusion vanished. + </p> + <p> + The woman sat beside her husband in the dismal court-room when the court + convened. The judge, old and tired, was on the bench. A sulphurous, + depressing fog entered from the city. The court-room smelled of a + cleaner's mop. The jury entered; and a few spectators, who looked as + though they might have spent the night on the benches of the park out, + side, drifted in. The attorneys and the officials of the court were + present and the trial resumed. + </p> + <p> + Every detail of the departed, evening was, to the woman, a mirage except + the brutal threat of the attorney, uttered before she had gone down into + the street. This threat, with that power of reality which evil things seem + always to possess, now materialized. After the court had opened, but + before the trial could proceed, the attorney for the defendant rose and + addressed the court. + </p> + <p> + He spoke for some moments, handling his innuendoes with skill. His intent + was to withdraw from the case. He realized that this was an unusual + procedure and that the course must be justified upon a high ethical plane. + He was a person of acumen and of no inconsiderable skill and he succeeded. + Without making any direct charge, and disclaiming any intent to prejudice + the prisoner and his defense, or to deprive him of any safeguard of the + law, he was able to convey the impression that he had been misled in + undertaking the defense of the case; that his confidence in the innocence + of the accused had been removed by unquestionable evidence which he had + been led to believe did not exist. + </p> + <p> + He made this explanation with profound regret. But he felt that, having + been induced to undertake the defense by representations not justified in + fact, and by an impression of the nature of the case which developments in + the court-room had not confirmed, he had the right to step aside out of an + equivocal position. He wished to do this without injury to the prisoner + and while there was yet an opportunity for him to obtain other counsel. + The whole tenor of the speech was the right to be relieved from the + obligation of an error; an error that had involved him unwittingly by + reason of assurances which the developments of the case had now set aside. + And through it all there was the manifest wish to do the prisoner no + vestige of injury. + </p> + <p> + After this speech of his attorney the conviction of the man was + inevitable. He sat stooped over, his back bent, his head down, his thin + hands aimlessly in his lap like one who has come to the end of all things; + like one who no longer makes any effort against a destiny determined on + his ruin. + </p> + <p> + The thing had the overpowering vitality which evil things seem always to + possess, and the woman felt helpless against it; so utterly, so completely + helpless that it was useless to protest by any word or gesture. She could + have gotten up and explained the true motive behind this man's speech; she + could have repeated the dialogue in his office; she could have asserted + his unspeakable treachery; but she saw with an unerring instinct that + against the skill of the man her effort would be wholly useless. With his + resources and his dominating cunning he would not only make her words + appear obviously false, but he would make them fasten upon her a malicious + intent to injure the man who had undertaken her husband's defense; and + somehow he would be able, she felt, to divert the obliquity and cause it + to react upon herself. + </p> + <p> + This was all clear to her, and like some little trapped creature of the + wood that finds escape closed on every side and no longer makes any + effort, she remained motionless. + </p> + <p> + The judge was an honorable man, concerned to accomplish justice and not + always misled by an obvious intent. The proceeding did not please him, but + he knew that no benefit, rather a continued injury, would result to the + prisoner by forcing the attorney to go on with a case which it was evident + that he no longer cared to make any effort to support. He permitted the + man to withdraw. Then he spoke to the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any other counsel?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The prisoner did not look up. He replied in a low, almost inaudible voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, Your Honor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall appoint some one to go on with the case,” and he looked up + over the docket before him and out at the few attorneys sitting within the + rail. + </p> + <p> + It was at this moment that the woman, crying silently, without a sound and + without moving in her chair, heard behind her the voice which she had + heard the evening before, when, as now, at the bottom of the pit, she + stood before the shutter of the shop-window. + </p> + <p> + “Will it be necessary, monsieur le judge?” + </p> + <p> + It was the same wonderful, moving, heavenly voice. Every sound in the + court-room suddenly ceased. All eyes were lifted. And Thompson, sitting + beside the district-attorney, saw, standing before the rail in the + court-room, the splendid, alluring creature that had called him out of the + sordid lobby of the Hotel Markheim and entranced him with an evidence of + her favor. Unconsciously he put up his hand to feel for the bud in the + lapel of his coat. It had remained there—not, as it happened, from + her wish, but because he dare not lay the coat aside. + </p> + <p> + In the interval of intense interest arising at the withdrawal of the + attorney from the case the girl had come in unnoticed. She might have + appeared out of the floor. Her voice was the first indication of her + presence. + </p> + <p> + The judge turned swiftly. “What do you mean?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, monsieur,” she answered, “that if a man is innocent of a crime, + he cannot require a lawyer to defend him.” + </p> + <p> + The judge was astonished, but he was an old man and had seen many strange + events happen along the way of a criminal trial. + </p> + <p> + “But why do you say this man is innocent,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I will show you, monsieur,” and she came around the railing into the pit + of the court before his bench. She carried in her hand the menu upon + which, at the table in the cafe the night before, she had made a drawing + of the scene of the homicide. + </p> + <p> + The extraordinary event had happened so swiftly that the attorney for the + prosecution had not been able to interpose an objection. Now the nephew of + the dead man spoke hurriedly, in whispers, and the attorney arose. + </p> + <p> + “I object to this irregular proceeding,” he said. “If this person is a + witness, let her be sworn in the usual manner and let her take her place + in the witness-chair where she may be examined by the attorney whom the + court may see fit to appoint for the defense.” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that Mr. Thompson, urging the prosecutor, was alarmed. The + folds of his obese neck lying above the collar of his coat took on a + deeper color, and his mouth visibly sagged as with some unexpected + emotion. He felt that he was becoming entangled in some vast, invisible + net spread about him by this girl who had appeared as if by magic before + the Hotel Markheim. + </p> + <p> + The judge looked down at the attorney. “I will have the witness sworn,” he + said, “but I shall not at present appoint anybody to conduct an + examination. When a prisoner before me has no counsel, I sometimes look + after his case myself.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke to the girl. “Will you hold up your hand?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, monsieur,” she said, “if you will also ask Mr. Thompson to hold + up his hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish him sworn as a witness?” said the judge. + </p> + <p> + The girl hesitated. “Yes, monsieur,” she said, “if that is the way to have + him hold up his hand.” + </p> + <p> + Again Thompson was disturbed. Again he spoke to the prosecutor and again + that attorney objected. + </p> + <p> + “We have not asked to have Mr. Thompson testify in this case,” he said. + “It is true Mr. Thompson is concerned about the result of this trial. He + is the nephew of the decedent and his heir. It is only natural that he + should properly concern himself to see that the assassin is brought to + justice.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke to the girl. “Do you wish to make Mr. Thompson your witness?” he + said. + </p> + <p> + And again she replied with the hesitating formula: + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, monsieur, if that is the way to cause him to hold up his hand.” + </p> + <p> + The judge turned to the clerk. “Will you administer the oath to these two + persons?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Thompson rose. His face was disconcerted and slack. He hesitated, but the + prosecutor spoke to him. Then he faced the judge and put up his hand. + Immediately the girl cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Look, monsieur,” she said. “It is his left hand he is holding up!” + </p> + <p> + Immediately Thompson raised the other hand. “I beg your pardon, Your + Honor,” he muttered. “I am left-handed; I sometimes make that mistake.” + </p> + <p> + And again the girl cried out: “You see... you notice it... it is true, + then... he is left-handed.” + </p> + <p> + “I see he is left-handed,” said the judge, “but what has that to do with + the case?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur,” she said, “it has everything to do with it. I will show + you.” + </p> + <p> + She moved up on the step before the judge's bench and laid the menu before + him. The attorney for the prosecution also arose. He wished to prevent + this proceeding, to object to it, but he feared to disturb the judge and + he remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “I have made a little drawing... I know how such + things are done.... My father was juge d'instruction of the Canton of + Vaud. He always made little drawings of places where crimes were + committed.... Here you will see,” and she put her finger on the card, “the + narrow passage leading from the butler's pantry into the dining-room used + for a library. You will notice, monsieur, that the writing-table stood + with one end against the wall, the left wall of the room, as one enters + from the butler's pantry. It is a queer table. One side of it has a row of + drawers coming to the floor and the other side is open so one may sit with + one's knees under it. On the night of the tragedy this table was sitting + at right angles to the left wall, that is to say, monsieur, with this end + open for the writer's knees close up against the left wall of the room. + That meant, monsieur, that on this night Mr. Marsh was sitting at the + table with his back to the passage from the butler's pantry, close up + against the left wall of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, monsieur,” the girl went on, “the man who assassinated Mr. + Marsh entered from the butler's pantry. He slipped into the room along the + left wall close up behind his victim.... Did it not occur so.” + </p> + <p> + This was the evidence of the police officials and the experts. It was + clear from the position of the desk in the room and from the details of + the evidence. + </p> + <p> + “And, monsieur,” she said, “will you tell me, is it true that the stab + wound which killed Mr. Marsh was in the shoulder on the side next to the + wall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the judge, “that is true.” + </p> + <p> + The prosecutor, urged by Thompson, now made a verbal objection. The case + was practically completed. The incident going on in the court-room + followed no definite legal procedure and could not be permitted to + proceed. The judge stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” he said. He did not offer any explanation or comment. He + merely silenced the man and returned to the girl standing eagerly on the + step before the bench. + </p> + <p> + “The wound was in the base of the man's neck at the top of the left + shoulder on the side next to the wall,” he said. “But what has this fact + to do with the case?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur,” she cried, “it has everything to do with it. If the + assassin who slipped along the wall had carried the knife in his right + hand, the wound would have been on the right side of the dead man's neck. + But if, monsieur, the assassin carried the knife in his left hand, then + the wound would be where it is, on the left side. That made me believe, at + first, that the assassin had only one arm—had lost his right arm—and + must use the other; then, a little later, I understood.... Oh, monsieur, + don't you understand; don't you see that the assassin who stabbed Mr. + Marsh was left-handed?” + </p> + <p> + In a moment it was all clear to everybody. Only a left-handed man could + have committed the crime, for only a left-handed man standing close + against the left side of a room above one sitting at a desk against that + wall could have struck straight down into the left shoulder of the + murdered man. A right-handed assassin would have struck straight down into + the right shoulder, he would not have risked a doubtful blow, delivered + awkwardly across his body, into the left shoulder of his victim. + </p> + <p> + The girl indicated Thompson with her hand. “He did it; he's left-handed. I + found out by dropping my glove.” + </p> + <p> + Panic enveloped the cornered man. He began to shake as with an ague. Sweat + like a thin oil spread over his debauched face and the folds of his obese + neck. With his fatal left hand he began to finger the lapel of his coat + where the faded rosebud hung pinned into the buttonhole. And the girl's + voice broke the profound silence of the court-room. + </p> + <p> + “He has the money, too,” she said. “I felt a bulky packet when I gave him + the flower out of my bouquet last night.” + </p> + <p> + The big, thin-haired lawyer, leaving the courtroom after his withdrawal + from the case, stopped at a window arrested by the amazing scene: The + police taking the stolen money out of Thompson's pocket; the woman in the + girl's arms, and the transfigured prisoner standing up as in the presence + of a heavenly angel. This before him... and the splendid motor below under + the sweep of the window, waiting before the courthouse door, brought back + the memory of his biting, sarcastic words: + </p> + <p> + “... or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!” + </p> + <p> + And there occurred to him a doubt of the exclusive dominance of life by + the gods he served. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. The Yellow Flower + </h2> + <p> + The girl sat in a great chair before the fire, huddled, staring into the + glow of the smoldering logs. + </p> + <p> + Her dark hair clouded her face. The evening gown was twisted and crumpled + about her. There was no ornament on her; her arms, her shoulders, the + exquisite column of her throat were bare. + </p> + <p> + She sat with her eyes wide, unmoving, in a profound reflection. + </p> + <p> + The library was softly lighted; richly furnished, a little beyond the + permission of good taste. On a table at the girl's elbow were two objects; + a ruby necklace, and a dried flower. The flower, fragile with age, seemed + a sort of scrub poppy of a delicate yellow; the flower of some dwarfed + bush, prickly like a cactus. + </p> + <p> + The necklace made a great heap of jewels on the buhl top of the table, + above the intricate arabesque of silver and tortoise-shell. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midnight. Outside, the dull rumble of London seemed a sound, + continuous, unvarying, as though it were the distant roar of a world + turning in some stellar space. + </p> + <p> + It was a great old house in Park Lane, heavy and of that gloomy + architecture with which the feeling of the English people, at an earlier + time, had been so strangely in accord. It stood before St. James's Park + oppressive and monumental, and now in the midst of yellow fog its heavy + front was like a mausoleum. + </p> + <p> + But within, the house had been treated to a modern re-casting, not + entirely independent of the vanity of wealth. + </p> + <p> + After the dinner at the Ritz, the girl felt that she could not go on; and + Lady Mary's party, on its way to the dancing, put her down at the door. + She gave the excuse of a crippling headache. But it was a deeper, more + profound aching that disturbed her. She was before the tragic hour, + appearing in the lives of many women, when suddenly, as by the opening of + a door, one realizes the irrevocable aspect of a marriage of which the + details are beginning to be arranged. That hour in which a woman must + consider, finally, the clipping of all threads, except the single one that + shall cord her to a mate for life. + </p> + <p> + Until to-night, in spite of preparations on the way, the girl had not felt + this marriage as inevitable. Her aunt had pressed for it, subtly, + invisibly, as an older woman is able to do. + </p> + <p> + Her situation was always, clearly before her. She was alone in the world; + with very little, almost nothing. The estate her father inherited he had + finally spent in making great explorations. There was no unknown taste of + the world that he had not undertaken to enter. The final driblets of his + fortune had gone into his last adventure in the Great Gobi Desert from + which he had never returned. + </p> + <p> + The girl had been taken by this aunt in London, incredibly rich, but on + the fringes of the fashionable society of England, which she longed to + enter. Even to the young girl, her aunt's plan was visible. With a great + settlement, such as this ambitious woman could manage, the girl could be a + duchess. + </p> + <p> + The marriage to Lord Eckhart in the diplomatic service, who would one day + be a peer of England, had been a lure dangled unavailingly before her, + until that night, when, on his return from India, he had carried her off + her feet with his amazing incredible sacrifice. It was the immense + idealism, the immense romance of it that had swept her into this + irrevocable thing. + </p> + <p> + She got up now, swiftly, as though she would again realize how the thing + had happened and stooped over the table above the heap of jewels. They + were great pigeon-blood rubies, twenty-seven of them, fastened together + with ancient crude gold work. She lifted the long necklace until it hung + with the last jewel on the table. + </p> + <p> + The thing was a treasure, an immense, incredible treasure. And it was for + this—for the privilege of putting this into her hands, that the man + had sold everything he had in England—and endured what the gossips + said—endured it during the five years in India—kept silent and + was now silent. She remembered every detail the rumor of a wild life, a + dissolute reckless life, the gradual, piece by piece sale of everything + that could be turned into money. London could not think of a ne'er-do-well + to equal him in the memory of its oldest gossips—and all the time + with every penny, he was putting together this immense treasure—for + her. A dreamer writing a romance might imagine a thing like this, but had + it any equal in the realities of life? + </p> + <p> + She looked down at the chain of great jewels, and the fragment of prickly + shrub with its poppy-shaped yellow flower. They were symbols, each, of an + immense idealism, an immense conception of sacrifice that lifted the + actors in their dramas into gigantic figures illumined with the halos of + romance. + </p> + <p> + Until to-night it had been this ideal figure of Lord Eckhart that the girl + considered in this marriage. And to-night, suddenly, the actual physical + man had replaced it. And, alarmed, she had drawn back. Perhaps it was the + Teutonic blood in him—a grandmother of a German house. And, yet, who + could say, perhaps this piece of consuming idealism was from that ancient + extinct Germany of Beethoven. + </p> + <p> + But the man and the ideal seemed distinct things having no relation. She + drew back from the one, and she stood on tip-toe, with arms extended + longingly toward the other. + </p> + <p> + What should she do? + </p> + <p> + Had the example of her father thrown on Lord Eckhart a golden shadow? She + moved the bit of flower, gently as in a caress. He had given up the income + of a leading profession and gone to his death. His fortune and his life + had gone in the same high careless manner for the thing he sought. For the + treasure that he believed lay in the Gobi Desert—not for himself, + but for every man to be born into the world. He was the great dreamer, the + great idealist, a vague shining figure before the girl like the cloud in + the Hebraic Myth. + </p> + <p> + The girl stood up and linked her fingers together behind her back. If her + father were only here—for an hour, for a moment! Or if, in the world + beyond sight and hearing, he could somehow get a message to her! + </p> + <p> + At this moment a bell, somewhere in the deeps of the house, jangled, and + she heard the old butler moving through the hall to the door. The other + servants had been dismissed for the night, and her aunt on the + preliminaries of this marriage was in Paris. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the butler appeared with a card on his tray. It was a card + newly engraved in some English shop and bore the name “Dr. Tsan-Sgam.” The + girl stood for a moment puzzled at the queer name, and then the memory of + the strange outlandish human creatures, from the ends of the world, who + used sometimes to visit her father, in the old time, returned, and with it + there came a sudden upward sweep of the heart—was there an answer to + her longing, somehow, incredibly on the way! + </p> + <p> + She gave a direction for the visitor to be brought in. He was a big old + man. His body looked long and muscular like that of some type of + Englishmen, but his head and his features were Mongolian. He was entirely + bald, as bald as the palm of a hand, as though bald from his mother he had + so remained to this incredible age. And age was the impression that he + profoundly presented. But it was age that a tough vitality in the man + resisted; as though the assault of time wore it down slowly and with + almost an imperceptible detritus. The great naked head and the wide + Mongolian face were unshrunken; they presented, rather, the aspect of some + old child. He was dressed with extreme care, in the very best evening + clothes that one could buy in a London shop. + </p> + <p> + He bowed, oddly, with a slow doubling of the body, and when he spoke the + girl felt that he was translating his words through more than one + language; as though one were to put one's sentences into French or Italian + and from that, as a sort of intermediary, into English—as though the + way were long, and unfamiliar from the medium in which the man thought to + the one in which he was undertaking to express it. But at the end of this + involved mental process his English sentences appeared correctly, and with + an accurate selection in the words. + </p> + <p> + “You must pardon the hour, Miss Carstair,” he said, in his slow, precise + articulation, “but I am required to see you and it is the only time I + have.” + </p> + <p> + Then his eyes caught the necklace on the table, and advancing with two + steps he stooped over it. + </p> + <p> + For a moment everything else seemed removed, from about the man. His + angular body, in its unfamiliar dress, was doubled like a finger; his + great head with its wide Mongolian face was close down over the buhl top + of the table and his finger moved the heap of rubies. + </p> + <p> + The girl had a sudden inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Eckhart got these jewels from you?” + </p> + <p> + The man paused, he seemed to be moving the girl's words backward through + the intervening languages. + </p> + <p> + Then he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “from us.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's inspiration was now illumined by a further light. + </p> + <p> + “And you have not been paid for them?” + </p> + <p> + The man stood up now. And again this involved process of moving the words + back through various translations was visible—and the answer up. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—” he said, “we have been paid.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added, in explanation of his act. + </p> + <p> + “These rubies have no equal in the world—and the gold-work attaching + them together is extremely old. I am always curious to admire it.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down at the girl, at the necklace, at the space about them, as + though he were deeply, profoundly puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “We had a fear,” he said, “—it was wrong!” + </p> + <p> + Then he put his hand swiftly into the bosom pocket of his evening coat, + took out a thin packet wrapped in a piece of vellum and handed it to the + girl. + </p> + <p> + “It became necessary to treat with the English Government about the + removal of records from Lhassa and I was sent—I was directed to get + this packet to you from London. To-night, at dinner with Sir Henry Marquis + in St. James's Square, I learned that you were here. I had then only this + hour to come, as my boat leaves in the morning.” He spoke with the extreme + care of one putting together a delicate mosaic. + </p> + <p> + The girl stood staring at the thin packet. A single thought alone consumed + her. + </p> + <p> + “It is a message from—my—father.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke almost in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental replied immediately. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “your father is beyond sight and hearing.” + </p> + <p> + The girl had no hope; only the will to hope. The reply was confirmation of + what she already knew. She removed the thin vellum wrapper from the + packet. Within she found a drawing on a plate of ivory. It represented a + shaft of some white stone standing on the slight elevation of what seemed + to be a barren plateau. And below on the plate, in fine English characters + like an engraving, was the legend, “Erected to the memory of Major Judson + Carstair by the monastery at the Head.” + </p> + <p> + The man added a word of explanation. + </p> + <p> + “The Brotherhood thought that you would wish to know that your father's + body had been recovered, and that it had received Christian burial, as + nearly as we were able to interpret the forms. The stone is a sort of + granite.” + </p> + <p> + The girl wished to ask a thousand questions: How did her father meet his + death, and where? What did they know? What had they recovered with his + body? + </p> + <p> + The girl spoke impulsively, her words crowding one another. And the + Oriental seemed able only to disengage the last query from the others. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately,” he said, “some band of the desert people had passed + before our expedition arrived, nothing was recovered but the body. It was + not mutilated.” + </p> + <p> + They had been standing. The girl now indicated the big library chair in + which she had been huddled and got another for herself. Then she wished to + know what they had learned about her father's death. + </p> + <p> + The Oriental sat down. He sat awkwardly, his big body, in a kind of squat + posture, the broad Mongolian face emerging, as in a sort of deformity, + from the collar of his evening coat. Then he began to speak, with that + conscious effect of bringing his words through various mediums from a + distance. + </p> + <p> + “We endeavored to discourage Major Carstair from undertaking this + adventure. We were greatly concerned about his safety. The sunken plateau + of the Gobi Desert, north of the Shan States, is exceedingly dangerous for + an European, not so much on account of murderous attacks from the desert + people, for this peril we could prevent; but there is a chill in this + sunken plain after sunset that the native people only can resist. No white + man has ever crossed the low land of the Gobi.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “And there is in fact no reason why any one should wish to cross it. It is + absolutely barren. We pointed out all this very carefully to Major + Carstair when we learned what he had in plan, for as I have said his + welfare was very pressingly on our conscience. We were profoundly puzzled + about what he was seeking in the Gobi. He was not, evidently, intending to + plot the region or to survey any route, or to acquire any scientific data. + His equipment lacked all the implements for such work. It was a long time + before we understood the impulse that was moving Major Carstair to enter + this waste region of the Gobi to the north.” + </p> + <p> + The man stopped, and sat for some moments quite motionless. + </p> + <p> + “Your father,” he went on, “was a distinguished man in one of the + departments of human endeavor which the East has always neglected; and in + it he had what seemed to us incredible skill—with ease he was able + to do things which we considered impossible. And for this reason the + impulse taking him into the Gobi seemed entirely incredible to us; it + seemed entirely inconsistent with this special ability which we knew the + man to possess; and for a long time we rejected it, believing ourselves to + be somehow misled.” + </p> + <p> + The girl sat straight and silent, in her chair near the brass fender to + the right of the buhl table; the drawing, showing the white granite shaft, + held idly in her fingers; the illuminated vellum wrapper fallen to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + The man continued speaking slowly. + </p> + <p> + “When, finally, it was borne in upon us that Major Carstair was seeking a + treasure somewhere on the barren plateau of the Gobi, we took every + measure, consistent with a proper courtesy, to show him how fantastic this + notion was. We had, in fact, to exercise a certain care lest the very + absurdity of the conception appear too conspicuously in our discourse.” + </p> + <p> + He looked across the table at the girl. + </p> + <p> + The man's great bald head seemed to sink a little into his shoulders, as + in some relaxation. + </p> + <p> + “We brought out our maps of the region and showed him the old routes and + trails veining the whole of it. We explained the topography of this desert + plateau; the exact physical character of its relief. There was hardly a + square mile of it that we did not know in some degree, and of which we did + not possess some fairly accurate data. It was entirely inconceivable that + any object of value could exist in this region without our knowledge of + it.” + </p> + <p> + The man was speaking like one engaged in some extremely delicate + mechanical affair, requiring an accuracy almost painful in its exactness. + </p> + <p> + “Then, profoundly puzzled, we endeavored to discover what data Major + Carstair possessed that could in any way encourage him in this fantastic + idea. It was a difficult thing to do, for we held him in the highest + esteem and, outside of this bizarre notion, we had before us, beyond any + question, the evidence of his especial knowledge; and, as I have said, + his, to us, incredible skill.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, as though the careful structure of the long sentence had + fatigued him. + </p> + <p> + “Major Carstair's explanations were always in the imagery of romance. He + sought 'a treasure—a treasure that would destroy a Kingdom.' And his + indicatory data seemed to be the dried blossom of our desert poppy.” + </p> + <p> + Again the Oriental paused. He put up his hand and passed his fingers over + his face. The gaunt hand contrasted with the full contour. + </p> + <p> + “I confess that we did not know what to do. We realized that we had to + deal with a nature possessing in one direction the exact accurate + knowledge of a man of science, and in another the wonder extravagances of + a child. The Dalai Lama was not yet able to be consulted, and it seemed to + us a better plan to say no more about the impossible treasure, and address + our endeavors to the practical side of Major Carstair's intelligence + instead. We now pointed out the physical dangers of the region. The deadly + chill in it coming on at sunset could not fail to inflame the lungs of a + European, accustomed to an equable temperature, fever would follow; and + within a few days the unfortunate victim would find his whole breathing + space fatally congested.” + </p> + <p> + The man removed his hand. The care in his articulation was marked. + </p> + <p> + “Major Carstair was not turned aside by these facts, and we permitted him + to go on.” + </p> + <p> + Again he paused as though troubled by a memory. + </p> + <p> + “In this course,” he continued, “the Dalai Lama considered us to have + acted at the extreme of folly. But it is to be remembered, in our behalf, + that somewhat of the wonder at Major Carstair's knowledge of Western + science dealing with the human body was on us, and we felt that perhaps + the climatic peril of the Gobi might present no difficult problem to him. + </p> + <p> + “We were fatally misled.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added. + </p> + <p> + “We were careful to direct him along the highest route of the plateau, and + to have his expedition followed. But chance intervened. Major Carstair + turned out of the route and our patrol went on, supposing him to be ahead + on the course which we had indicated to him. When the error was at last + discovered, our patrol was entering the Sirke range. No one could say at + what point on the route Major Carstair had turned out, and our search of + the vast waste of the Gobi desert began. The high wind on the plateau + removes every trace of human travel. The whole of the region from the + Sirke, south, had to be gone over. It took a long time.” + </p> + <p> + The man stopped like one who has finished a story. The girl had not moved; + her face was strained and white. The fog outside had thickened; the sounds + of the city seemed distant. The girl had listened without a word, without + a gesture. Now she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “But why were you so concerned about my father?” + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental turned about in the chair. He looked steadily at the + girl, he seemed to be treating the query to his involved method of + translation; and Miss Carstair felt that the man, because of this tedious + mental process, might have difficulty to understand precisely what she + meant. + </p> + <p> + What he wished to say, he could control and, therefore, could accurately + present—but what was said to him began in the distant language. + </p> + <p> + “What Major Carstair did,” he said, “it has not been made clear to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “I do not understand.” + </p> + <p> + The man seemed puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “You have not understood!” + </p> + <p> + He repeated the sentence; his face reflective, his great bare head + settling into the collar of his evening coat as though the man's neck were + removed. + </p> + <p> + He remained for a moment thus puzzled and reflective. Then he began to + speak as one would set in motion some delicate involved machinery running + away into the hidden spaces of a workshop. + </p> + <p> + “The Dalai Lama had fallen—he was alone in the Image Room. His head + striking the sharp edge of a table was cut. He had lost a great deal of + blood when we found him and was close to death. Major Carstair was at this + time approaching the monastery from the south; his description sent to us + from Lhassa contained the statement that he was an American surgeon. We + sent at once asking him to visit the Dalai Lama, for the skill of Western + people in this department of human knowledge is known to us.” + </p> + <p> + The Oriental went on, slowly, with extreme care. + </p> + <p> + “Major Carstair did not at once impress us. 'What this man needs,' he + said, 'is blood.' That was clear to everybody. One of our, how shall I say + it in your language, Cardinals, replied with some bitterness, that the + Dalai Lama could hardly be imagined to lack anything else. Major Carstair + paid no attention to the irony. 'This man must have a supply of blood,' he + added. The Cardinal, very old, and given to imagery in his discourse + answered, that blood could be poured out but it could not be gathered + up... and that man could spill it but only God could make. + </p> + <p> + “We interrupted then, for Major Carstair was our guest and entitled to + every courtesy, and inquired how it would be possible to restore blood to + the Dalai Lama; it was not conceivable that the lost blood could be + gathered up. + </p> + <p> + “He explained then that he would transfer it from the veins of a healthy + man into the unconscious body.” + </p> + <p> + The Oriental hesitated; then he went on. + </p> + <p> + “The thing seemed to us fantastic. But our text treating the life of the + Dalai Lama admits of no doubt upon one point—'no measure presenting + itself in extremity can be withheld.' He was in clear extremity and this + measure, even though of foreign origin, had presented itself, and we felt + after a brief reflection that we were bound to permit it.” + </p> + <p> + He added. + </p> + <p> + “The result was a miracle to us. In a short time the Dalai Lama had + recovered. But in the meantime Major Carstair had gone on into the Gobi + seeking the fantastic treasure.” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned toward the man, a wide-eyed, eager, lighted face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realize,” she said, “the sort of treasure that my father + sacrificed his life to search for?” + </p> + <p> + The Oriental spoke slowly. + </p> + <p> + “It was to destroy a Kingdom,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “To destroy the Kingdom of Pain!” She replied, “My father was seeking an + anesthetic more powerful than the derivatives of domestic opium. He + searched the world for it. In the little, wild desert flower lay, he + thought, the essence of this treasure. And he would seek it at any cost. + Fortune was nothing; life was nothing. Is it any wonder that you could not + stop him? A flaming sword moving at the entrance to the Gobi could not + have barred him out!” + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental made a vague gesture as of one removing something + clinging to his face. + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore this blindness?” he said. + </p> + <p> + The girl had turned away in an effort to control the emotion that + possessed her. But the task was greater than her strength; when she came + back to the table tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her face. + Emotion seemed now to overcome her. + </p> + <p> + “If my father were only here,” her voice was broken, “if he were only + here!” + </p> + <p> + The big Oriental moved his whole body, as by one motion, toward her. The + house was very still; there was only the faint crackling of the logs on + the fire. + </p> + <p> + “We had a fear,” he said. “It remains!” + </p> + <p> + The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the brass + fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime she was silent. + Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “You know Lord Eckhart?” + </p> + <p> + A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our monastery on + the edge of the Gobi—the English sovereignty extends to the Kahn + line. Lord Eckhart was the political agent of the English government in + the province nearest to us.” + </p> + <p> + When the girl got up, the Oriental also rose. He stood awkwardly, his body + stooped; his hand as for support resting on the corner of the table. The + girl spoke again, in the same posture. Her face toward the fire. + </p> + <p> + “How do you feel about Lord Eckhart?” + </p> + <p> + “Feel!” The man repeated the word. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a little. + </p> + <p> + “We trusted Lord Eckhart. We have found all English honorable.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Eckhart is partly German,” the girl went on. + </p> + <p> + The man's voice in reply was like a foot-note to a discourse. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” He drawled the expletive as though it were some Oriental word. + </p> + <p> + The girl continued. “You have perhaps heard that a marriage is arranged + between us.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was steady, low, without emotion. + </p> + <p> + For a long time there was utter silence in the room. + </p> + <p> + Then, finally, when the Oriental spoke his voice had changed. It was + gentle, and packed with sympathy. It was like a voice within the gate of a + confessional. + </p> + <p> + “Do you love him?” it said. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + The vast sympathy in the voice continued. “You do not know?—it is + impossible! Love is or it is not. It is the longing of elements torn + asunder, at the beginning of things, to be rejoined.” + </p> + <p> + The girl turned swiftly, her body erect, her face lifted. + </p> + <p> + “But this great act,” she cried. “My father, I, all of our blood, are + moved by romance—by the romance of sacrifice. Look how my father + died seeking an antidote for the pain of the world. How shall I meet this + sacrifice of Lord Eckhart?” + </p> + <p> + Something strange began to dawn in the wide Mongolian face. + </p> + <p> + “What sacrifice?” + </p> + <p> + The girl came over swiftly to the table. She scattered the mass of jewels + with a swift gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Did he not give everything he possessed, everything piece by piece, for + this?” + </p> + <p> + She took the necklace up and twisted it around her fingers. Her hands + appeared to be a mass of rubies. + </p> + <p> + A great light came into the Oriental's face. + </p> + <p> + “The necklace,” he said, “is a present to you from the Dalai Lama. It was + entrusted to Lord Eckhart to deliver.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. Satire of the Sea + </h2> + <h3> + “What was the mystery about St. Alban?” I asked. + </h3> + <p> + The Baronet did not at once reply. He looked out over the English country + through the ancient oak-trees, above the sweep of meadow across the dark, + creeping river, to the white shaft rising beyond the wooded hills into the + sky. + </p> + <p> + The war was over. I was a guest of Sir Henry Marquis for a week-end at his + country-house. The man fascinated me. He seemed a sort of bottomless + Stygian vat of mysteries. He had been the secret hand of England for many + years in India. Then he was made a Baronet and put at the head of + England's Secret Service at Scotland Yard. + </p> + <p> + A servant brought out the tea and we were alone on the grass terrace + before the great oak-trees. He remained for some moments in reflection, + then he replied: + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the mystery of his death?” + </p> + <p> + “Was there any other mystery?” I said. + </p> + <p> + He looked at me narrowly across the table. + </p> + <p> + “There was hardly any mystery about his death,” he said. “The man shot + himself with an old dueling pistol that hung above the mantel in his + library. The family, when they found him, put the pistol back on the nail + and fitted the affair with the stock properties of a mysterious assassin. + </p> + <p> + “The explanation was at once accepted. The man's life, in the public mind, + called for an end like that. St. Alban after his career, should by every + canon of the tragic muse, go that way.” + </p> + <p> + He made a careless gesture with his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “I saw the disturbed dust on the wall where the pistol had been moved, the + bits of split cap under the hammer, and the powder marks on the muzzle. + </p> + <p> + “But I let the thing go. It seemed in keeping with the destiny of the man. + And it completed the sardonic picture. It was all fated, as the Gaelic + people say.... I saw no reason to disturb it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there was some other mystery?” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + He nodded his big head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “There is an ancient belief,” he said, “that the hunted thing always turns + on us. Well, if there was ever a man in this world on whom the hunted + thing awfully turned, it was St. Alban.” + </p> + <p> + He put out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the shaft yonder,” he said, “lifted to his memory, towering over + the whole of this English country, and cut on its base with his services + to England and the brave words he said on that fatal morning on the + Channel boat. Every schoolboy knows the words: + </p> + <p> + “'Don't threaten, fire if you like!' + </p> + <p> + “First-class words for the English people to remember. No bravado, just + the thing any decent chap would say. But the words are persistent. They + remain in the memory. And it was a thrilling scene they fitted into. One + must never forge that: The little hospital transport lying in the Channel + in a choppy sea that ran streaks of foam; the grim turret and the long + whaleback of a U-boat in the foam scruff; and the sun lying on the + scrubbed deck of the jumping transport. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody was crowded about. St. Alban was in the center of the human + pack, in a pace or two of clear deck, his injured arm in a sling; his + split sleeve open around it; his shoulders thrown back; his head lifted; + and before him, the Hun commander with his big automatic pistol. + </p> + <p> + “It's a wonderful, spirited picture, and it thrilled England. It was in + accord with her legends. England has little favor of either the gods of + the hills or the gods of the valleys. But always, in all her wars, the + gods of the seas back her.” + </p> + <p> + The big Baronet paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it and set + it down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “That's a fine monument,” he said, indicating the white shaft that shot up + into the cloudless evening sky. “The road makes a sharp turn by it. You + have got to slow up, no matter how you travel. The road rises there. It's + built that way; to make the passer go slow enough to read the legends on + the base of the monument. It's a clever piece of business. Everybody is + bound to give his tribute of attention to the conspicuous memorial. + </p> + <p> + “There are two faces to the monument that you must look at if you go that + road. One recounts the man's services to England, and the other face bears + his memorable words: + </p> + <p> + “'Don't threaten, fire if you like!'” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet fingered the handle of his teacup. + </p> + <p> + “The words are precisely suited to the English people,” he said. “No + heroics, no pretension, that's the whole spirit of England. It's the + English policy in a line: We don't threaten, and we don't wish to be + threatened by another. Let them fire if they like,—that's all in the + game. But don't swing a gun on us with a threat. St. Alban was lucky to + say it. He got the reserve, the restraint, the commonplace understatement + that England affects, into the sentence. It was a piece of good fortune to + catch the thing like that. + </p> + <p> + “The monument is tremendous. One can't avoid it. It's always before the + eye here, like the White Horse of Alfred on the chalk hill in Berkshire. + All the roads pass it through this countryside. But every mortal thing + that travels, motor and cart, must slow up around the monument.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped for a moment and looked at the white needle shimmering in the + evening sun. + </p> + <p> + “But St. Alban's greatest monument,” he said, “was the lucky sentence. It + stuck in the English memory and it will never go out of it. One wouldn't + give a half-penny for a monument if one could get a phrase fastened in a + people's memory like that.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry moved in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I often wonder,” he said, “whether the thing was an inspiration of St. + Alban's that morning on the deck of the hospital transport, or had he + thought about it at some other time? Was the sentence stored in the man's + memory, or did it come with the first gleam of returning consciousness + from a soul laid open by disaster? I think racial words, simple and + unpretentious, may lies in any man close to the bone like that to be rived + out with a mortal hurt. That's what keeps me wondering about the words he + used. And he did use them. + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt that a lot of our hero stuff has been edited after the + fact. But this sentence wasn't edited. That's what he said, precisely. A + hundred wounded soldiers on the hospital transport heard it. They were + crowding round him. And they told the story when they got ashore. The + story varied in trifling details as one would expect among so many + witnesses to a tragic event like that. But it didn't vary about what the + man said when the Hun commander was swinging his automatic pistol on him. + </p> + <p> + “There was no opportunity to edit a brave sentence to fit the affair. St. + Alban said it. And he didn't think it up as he climbed out of the cabin of + the transport. If he had been in a condition to think, he had enough of + the devil's business to think about just then; a brave sentence would + hardly have concerned him, as I said awhile ago. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, we have his word that, after what happened in the cabin, + everything else that occurred that morning on the transport was a blank to + the man; was walled off from his consciousness, and these words were the + first impulse of one returning to a realization of events.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry Marquis reflected. + </p> + <p> + “I think they were,” he continued. “They have the mark of spontaneity; of + the first disgust of one grasping the fact that he was being threatened.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet paused. + </p> + <p> + “The event had a great effect on England,” he said. “And it helped to + restore our shattered respect for a desperate enemy. The Hun commander + didn't sink the transport, and he didn't shoot St. Alban. It's true there + was a sort of gentleman's agreement among the enemies that hospital + transports should not be sunk. + </p> + <p> + “But anything was likely to happen just then. The Hun had failed to + subjugate the world, and he was a barbarous, mad creature. England + believed that something noble in St. Alban worked the miracle. + </p> + <p> + “'You're a brave man!' + </p> + <p> + “Some persons on the transport testified to such a comment from the + submarine commander. At any rate, he went back to his U-boat and the + undersea. + </p> + <p> + “That's the last they saw of him. The transport came on into Dover. + </p> + <p> + “England thought the affair was one of the adventures of the sea. A chance + thing, that happened by accident. But there was one man in England who + knew better.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” I said. + </p> + <p> + The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “St. Alban,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + He got up and began to walk about the terrace. I sat with the cup of tea + cooling before me. The big man walked slowly with his fingers linked + behind him. Finally he stopped. His voice was deep and reflective. + </p> + <p> + “'Man is altogether the sport of fortune!'... I read that in Herodotus, in + a form at Rugby. I never thought about it again. But it's God's truth. St. + Alban was at Rugby. I often wonder if he remembered it. My word, he lived + to verify it! Herodotus couldn't cite a case to equal him. And the old + Greek wasn't hemmed in by the truth. I maintain that the man's case has no + parallel. + </p> + <p> + “To have all the painstaking labor of years negatived by one enveloping, + vicious misfortune; to be beaten out of life by it, and at the same time + to gain that monument out yonder and one's niche as hero by the grim + device of an enemy's satire; by the acting of a scene that one would never + have taken part in if one had realized it, is beyond any complication of + tragedy known to the Greek. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the three strange phases of it: To be a mediocre Englishman with + no special talent; to die in horrible despair; and to leave behind a + glorious legend. And for all these three things to contradict one another + in the same life is unequaled in the legends of any people.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet went on in a deep level voice. + </p> + <p> + “There was a vicious vitality behind the whole desperate business. Every + visible impression of the thing was wrong. Every conception of it held + today by the English people is wrong! + </p> + <p> + “The German submarine didn't overhaul the hospital transport in the + Channel by accident. The Hun commander didn't fail to sink the transport + out of any humane motives. He didn't fail to shoot St. Alban because he + was moved by the heroism of the man. It was all grim calculation! + </p> + <p> + “He thought it was safe to let St. Alban go ahead. And he would have been + right if St. Alban had been the great egotist that he was. + </p> + <p> + “The commander of that submarine was Plutonburg of Prussia. He was the + right-hand man of old Von Tirpitz. He was the one man in the German navy + who never ceased to urge its Admiralty to sink everything. He loathed + every fiber of the English people. We had all sorts of testimony to that. + The trawlers and freightboat captains brought it in. He staged his + piracies to a theatrical frightfulness. 'Old England!' he would say, when + he climbed up out of the sea onto the deck of a British ship and looked + about him at the sailors, 'Old, is right, old and rotten!' Then he would + smite his big chest and quote the diatribes of Treitschke. 'But in a world + that the Prussian inhabits a nation, old and rotten, may endure for a + time, but it shall not endure forever!' + </p> + <p> + “Plutonburg didn't let St. Alban and the transport go ahead out of the + promptings of a noble nature. He did it because he hated England, and he + wanted St. Alban to live on in the hell he had trapped him into. He + counted on his keeping silent. But the Hun made a mistake. + </p> + <p> + “St. Alban didn't measure up to the standard of Prussian egoism by which + Plutonburg estimated him.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry continued in the same even voice. The levels of emotion in his + narrative did not move him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever see the picture of Plutonburg, in Munich? He had a face like + Chemosh. And he dressed the part. Other under-boat commanders wore the + conventional naval cap, but Plutonburg always wore a steel helmet with a + corrugated earpiece. Some artist under the frightfulness dogma must have + designed it for him. It framed his face down to the jaw. The face looked + like it was set in iron, and it was a thick-lidded, heavy, menacing face; + the sort of face that a broad-line cartoonist gives to a threatening + war-joss. At any rate, that's how the picture presents him. One thinks of + Attila under his ox head. You can hardly imagine anything human in it, + except a cruel satanic humor. + </p> + <p> + “He must have looked like Beelzebub that morning, on the transport, when + he let St. Alban go on.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet looked down at me. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's the truth about the fine conduct of Plutonburg that England + applauded as an act of chivalry. It was a piece of sheer, hellish + malignity, if there ever was an instance.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry took a turn across the terrace, for a moment silent. Then he + went on: + </p> + <p> + “And in fact, everything in the heroic event on the deck of the transport + was a pretense. The Hun didn't intend to shoot St. Alban. As I have said, + Plutonburg had him in just the sort of hell he wanted him in, and he + didn't propose to let him out with a bullet. And St. Alban ought to have + known it, unless, as he afterwards said, the whole thing from the first + awful moment in the cabin was simply walled out of his consciousness, + until he began dimly to realize up there in the sun, in the crowd, that he + was being threatened and blurted out his words from a sort of awful + disgust.” + </p> + <p> + Again he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Plutonburg was right about having St. Alban in the crater of the pit. But + he was wrong to measure him by his Prussian standard. St. Alban came on to + London. He got the heads of the War Office together and told them. I was + there. It was the devil's own muddle of a contrast. Outside, London was + ringing with the man's striking act of personal heroism. And inside of the + Foreign Office three or, four amazed persons were listening to the bitter + truth.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet spread out his hands with a sudden gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I shall always remember the man's strange, livid face; his fingers that + jumped about the cuff of his coat sleeve; and his shaking jaw.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry went over and sat down at the table. For a good while he was + silent. The sun filtering through the limbs of the great oak-trees made + mottled spots on his face. He seemed to turn away from the thing he had + been concerned with, and to see something else, something wholly apart and + at a distance from St. Alban's affairs. + </p> + <p> + “You must have wondered like everybody else,” he said, “why the Allied + drive on the Somme accomplished so little at first. Both England and + France had made elaborate preparations for it over a long period of time. + Every detail had been carefully, worked out. Every move had been estimated + with mathematical exactness. + </p> + <p> + “The French divisions had been equipped and strategically grouped. England + had put a million of fresh troops into France. And the line of the drive + had been mapped. The advance, when it was opened on the first day of July, + ought to have gone forward irresistibly from cog to cog like a wheel of a + machine on the indentations of a track. But the thing didn't happen that + way. The drive sagged and stuck.” + </p> + <p> + The big Englishman pressed the table with his clinched hand. + </p> + <p> + “My word!” he said, “is it any wonder that the devil, Plutonburg, grinned + when he put up his automatic pistol? Why shoot the Englishman? He would do + it himself soon enough. He was right about that. If he had only been right + about his measure of St. Alban, the drive on the Somme would have been a + ghastly catastrophe for the Allied armies.” + </p> + <p> + I hesitated to interrupt Sir Henry. But he had got my interest desperately + worked up about what seemed to me great unjointed segments of this affair, + that one couldn't understand till they were put together. I ventured a + query. + </p> + <p> + “How did St. Alban come to be on the hospital transport?” I said. “Was he + in the English army in France?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” he said. “When the war opened St. Alban was in the Home Office, + and, he set out to make England spy-proof. He organized the Confidential + Department, and he went to work to take every precaution. He wasn't a + great man in any direction, but he was a careful, thorough man. And with + tireless, never-ceasing, persistent effort, he very nearly swept England + clean of German espionage.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry spoke with vigor and decision. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's what St. Alban did in England—not because he was a man + of any marked ability, but because he was a persistent person dominated by + a single consuming idea. He started out to rid England of every form of + espionage. And when he had accomplished that, as the cases of Ernest, + Lody, and Schultz eloquently attest, he determined to see that every move + of the English expeditionary force on the Continent should be guarded from + German espionage.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Henry paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it. It was cold, + and he put the cup down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “That's how St. Alban came to be in France,” he said. “The great drive on + the Somme had been planned at a meeting of military leaders in Paris. The + French were confident that they could keep their plans secret from German + espionage. They admitted frankly that signals were wirelessed out of + France. But they had taken such precautions that only the briefest signals + could go out. + </p> + <p> + “The Government radio stations were always alert. And they at once + negatived any unauthorized wireless so that German spies could only snap + out a signal or two at any time. They could do this, however. + </p> + <p> + “They had a wireless apparatus inside a factory chimney at Auteuil. It + wasn't located until the war was nearly over. + </p> + <p> + “The French didn't undertake to say that they could make their country + spy-proof. They knew that there were German agents in France that nobody + could tell from innocent French people. But they did undertake to say that + nothing could be carried over into the German lines. And they justified + that promise. They did see that nothing was carried out of France.” The + Baronet looked at me across the table. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that's what took St. Alban across the Channel,” he said. “The + English authorities wanted to be certain that there was no German + espionage. And there was no man in England able to be certain of that + except St. Alban. He went over to make sure. If the plans for the Somme + drive should get out of France, they should not get out through any + English avenue.” + </p> + <p> + The Baronet paused. + </p> + <p> + “St. Alban went about the thing in his thorough, persistent manner. He + didn't trust to subordinates. He went himself. That's what took him out on + the English line. And that's how he came to be wounded in the elbow. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't very much of a wound—a piece of shrapnel nearly spent + when it hit him. But the French hospital service was very much concerned. + It gave him every attention. + </p> + <p> + “The man came into Paris when he had finished. The French authorities put + him up at the Hotel Meurice. You know the Hotel Meurice. It's on the Rue + de la Rivoli. It looks out over the garden of the Tuileries. St. Alban was + satisfied with the condition of affairs in France, and he was anxious to + go back to London. Arrangements had been made for him to go on the + hospital transport. + </p> + <p> + “He was in his room at the Meurice waiting for the train to Calais. He + was, in fact, fatigued with the attention the French authorities had given + him. Everything that one could think of had been anticipated, he said. He + thought there could be nothing more. Then there was a timid knock, and a + nurse came in to say that she had been sent to see that the dressing on + his arm was all right. He said that he had found it easier to submit to + the French attentions than to undertake to explain that he didn't need + them. + </p> + <p> + “He was busy with some final orders, so he put out his arm and allowed the + nurse to take the pins out of the split sleeve and adjust the dressing. + She put on some bandages, made a little timid curtsey and went out. + </p> + <p> + “St. Alban didn't think of it again until the German U-boat stopped the + transport the next morning in the Channel. He wasn't disturbed when the + submarine commander came into his cabin. He knew enough not to carry any + papers about with him. But Plutonburg didn't bother himself about luggage. + He'd had his signal from the factory chimney at Auteuil. He stood there + grinning in the cabin before St. Alban; that Satanic, Chemosh grin that + the artist got in the Munich picture. + </p> + <p> + “'I used to be something of a surgeon,' he said, 'Doctor Ulrich von + Plutonburg, if you will remember. I'll take a look at your arm.' + </p> + <p> + But, Alban said he thought the man might be moved by some humane + consideration, so he put out his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Plutonburg took the pins out of the sleeve and removed the bandage that + the nurse had put on in the Hotel Meurice. Then he held it up. The long, + cotton bandage was lined with glazed cambric, and on it, in minute detail, + was the exact position of all the Allied forces along the whole front in + the region of the Somme, precisely as they had been massed for the drive + on July first!” + </p> + <p> + I cried out in astonishment. “So that's what you meant,” I said, “by the + trailed thing turning on him!” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” replied the Baronet. “The very thing that St. Alban labored + to prevent another from doing, he did awfully himself!” + </p> + <p> + The big Englishman's fingers drummed on the table. + </p> + <p> + “It was a great moment for Plutonburg,” he said. “No living man but that + Prussian could have put the Satanic humor into the rest of the affair.” + </p> + <p> + He paused as under the pressure of the memory. + </p> + <p> + “St. Alban always maintained that from the moment he saw the long map on + the bandage everything blurred around him, and began to clear only when he + spoke on the deck. He used to curse this blur. It made him a national + figure and immortal, but it prevented him, he said, from striking the + Prussian in the face.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. The House by the Loch + </h2> + <p> + There was a snapping fire in the chimney. I was cold through and I was + glad to stand close beside it on the stone hearth. My greatcoat had kept + out the rain, but it had not kept out the chill of the West Highland + night. I shivered before the fire, my hands held out to the flame. + </p> + <p> + It was a long, low room. There was an ancient guncase on one side, but the + racks were empty except for a service pistol hanging by its trigger-guard + from the hook. There were some shelves of books on the other side. But the + conspicuous thing in the room was an image of Buddha in a glass box on the + mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + It was about four inches high, cast in silver and, I thought, of immense + age. + </p> + <p> + I had to wait for my uncle to come in. But I had enough to think about. + Every event connected with this visit seemed to touch on some mystery. + There was his strange letter to me in reply to my note that I was in + England and coming up to Scotland. Surely no man ever wrote a queerer + letter to a nephew coming on a visit to him. + </p> + <p> + It dwelt on the length of the journey and the remoteness of the place. I + was to be discouraged in every sentence. I was to carry his affectionate + regards to the family in America and say that he was in health. + </p> + <p> + It stood out plainly that I was not wanted. + </p> + <p> + This was strange in itself, but it was not the strangest thing about this + letter. The strangest thing was a word written in a shaky cramped hand on + the back of the sheet: the letters huddled together: “Come!” + </p> + <p> + I would have believed my uncle justified in his note. It was a long + journey. I had great difficulty to find anyone to take me out from the + railway station. There were idle men enough, but they shook their heads + when I named the house. Finally, for a double wage, I got an old gillie + with a cart to bring me as far on the way as the highroad ran. But he + would not turn into the unkept road that led over the moor to the house. I + could neither bribe nor persuade him. There was no alternative but to set + out through the mist with my bag on my shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Night was coming on. The moor was a vast wilderness of gorse. The house + loomed at the foot of it and beyond the loch that made a sort of estuary + for the open sea. Nor was this the only thing. I got the impression as I + tramped along that I was not alone on the moor. I don't know out of what + evidences the impression was built up. I felt that someone was in the + gorse beyond the road. + </p> + <p> + The house was closed up like a sleeping eye when I got before it. It was a + big, old, rambling stone house with a tangle of vines half torn away by + the winds: I hammered on the door and finally an aged man-servant holding + a candle high above his head let me in. + </p> + <p> + This was the manner of my coming to Saint Conan's Landing. + </p> + <p> + I had some supper of cold meat brought in by this aged servant. He was a + shrunken derelict of a human figure. He was disturbed at my arrival and + ill at ease. But I thought there was relief and welcome in his expression. + The master would be in directly; he would light a fire in the drawing-room + and prepare a bedchamber for me. + </p> + <p> + One would hardly find outside of England such faithful creatures clinging + to the fortunes of descending men. He was at the end of life and in some + fearful perplexity, but one felt there was something stanch and sound in + him. + </p> + <p> + I had no doubt that there, under my eye, was the hand that had added the + cramped word to my uncle's letter. + </p> + <p> + I stood now before the fire in the long, low room. The flames and a tall + candle at either end of the mantelpiece lit it up. I was looking at the + Buddha in the glass box. I could not imagine a thing more out of note. + Surely of all corners of the world this wild moor of the West Highlands + was the least suited to an Oriental cult. The elements seemed under no + control of Nature. The land was windswept, and the sea came crying into + the loch. + </p> + <p> + I suppose it was the mood of my queer experiences that set me at this + speculation. + </p> + <p> + One would expect to find some evidences of India in my uncle's house. He + had been a long time in Asia, on the fringes of the English service. + Toward the end he had been the Resident at the court of an obscure Rajah + in one of the Northwest Provinces. It was on the edge of the Empire where + it touches the little-known Mongolian states south of the Gobi. + </p> + <p> + The Home Office was only intermittently in touch with him. But something, + never explained, finally drew its attention and he was put out of India. + No one knew anything about it; “permitted to retire,” was the text of the + brief official notice. + </p> + <p> + And he had retired to the most remote place he could find in the British + islands. There was no other house on that corner of the coast. The man was + as alone as he would have been in the Gobi. + </p> + <p> + If he had planned to be alone one would have believed he had succeeded in + that intention. And yet from the moment I got down from the gillie's cart + I seemed drawn under a persisting surveillance. I felt now that some one + was looking at me. I turned quickly. There was a door at the end of the + room opening onto a bit of garden facing the sea. A man stood, now, just + inside this door, his hand on the latch. His head and shoulders were + stooped as though he had been there some moments, as though he had let + himself noiselessly in, and remained there watching me before the fire. + </p> + <p> + But if so, he was prepared against my turning. He snapped the latch and + came down the room to where I stood. + </p> + <p> + He was a big stoop-shouldered Englishman with a pale, pasty face beginning + to sag at the jowls. There was a queer immobility about the features as + though the man were always in some fear. His eyes were a pale tallow color + and seemed too small for their immense sockets. One could see that the man + had been a gentleman. I write it in the past, because at the moment I felt + it as in the past. I felt that something had dispossessed him. + </p> + <p> + “This will be Robin,” he said. “My dear fellow, it was fine of you to + travel all this way to see me.” + </p> + <p> + He had a nervous cold hand with hardly any pressure in the grasp of it. + His thin black hair was brushed across the top of his bald head, and the + distended, apprehensive expression on his face did not change. + </p> + <p> + He made me sit down by the fire and asked me about the family in America. + But there was, I thought, no real interest in this interrogation until he + came to a reflective comment. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to go to America,” he said; “there must be great wastes of + country where one would be out of the world.” + </p> + <p> + The sincerity of this expression stood out in the trivial talk. It + indicated something that disturbed the man. He was as isolated as he could + get in England, but that was not enough. + </p> + <p> + He sat for a moment silent, the fingers of his nervous hand moving on his + knee. When he glanced up, with a sudden jerk of his head, he caught me + looking at the little image of Buddha in its glass box on the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + Was this longing for solitude the influence of this mysterious religion? + </p> + <p> + Remote, lonely isolation was a cult of Buddha. The devotees of that cult + sought the waste places of the earth for their meditations. To be out of + the world, in its physical contact, was a prime postulate in the practice + of this creed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Robin,” he cried, as though he were in a jovial mood and careless of + the subject, “do you have a hobby?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I had not felt the need of one. The inquiry was a surprise + and I could think of nothing better to reply with. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my boy,” he went on, “what will you do when you are old? One must + have something to occupy the mind.” + </p> + <p> + He got up and turned the glass box a little on the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “This is a very rare image,” he said; “one does not find this image + anywhere in India. It came from Tibet. The expression and the pose of the + figure differ from the conventional Buddha. You might not see that, but to + any one familiar with this religion these differences are marked. This is + a monastery image, and you will see that it is cast, not graven.” + </p> + <p> + He beckoned me to come closer, and I rose and stood beside him. He went on + as with a lecture: + </p> + <p> + “The reason given by the natives why this image is not found in Southern + Asia is that it cannot be cast anywhere but in the Tibetan monasteries. A + certain ritual at the time of casting is necessary to produce a perfect + figure. This ritual is a secret of the Khan monasteries. Castings of this + form of image made without the ritual are always defective; so I was told + in India.” + </p> + <p> + He moved the glass box a little closer to the edge of the mantelpiece. + </p> + <p> + “Naturally,” he went on, “I considered this story, to be a mere piece of + religious pretension. It amused me to make some experiments, and to my + surprise the castings were always defective. I brought the image to + England.” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders as with a careless gesture. + </p> + <p> + “In my idle time here I tried it again. And incredibly the result was + always the same; some portion of the figure showed a flaw. My interest in + the thing was permanently aroused. I continued to experiment.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed in a queer high cackle. + </p> + <p> + “And presently I found myself desperately astride a hobby. I got all the + Babbitt metal that I could buy up in England and put in the days and not a + few of the nights in trying to cast a perfect figure of this confounded + Buddha. But I have never been able to do it.” + </p> + <p> + He opened a drawer of the gun-case and brought over to the fire half a + dozen castings of the Buddha in various sizes. + </p> + <p> + Not one among the number was perfect. Some portion of the figure was in + every case wanting. A hand would be missing, a portion of a shoulder, a + bit of the squat body or there would be a flaw where the running metal had + not filled the mold. + </p> + <p> + “I'm hanged,” he cried, “if the beggars are not right about it. The thing + can't be done! I've tried it in all sorts of dimensions. You will see some + of the big figures in the garden. I've used a ton of metal and every sort + of mold.” + </p> + <p> + Then he flung his hand out toward the bookcase. + </p> + <p> + “I've studied the art of molding in soft metal. I have all the books on + it, and I've turned the boathouse into a sort of shop. I've spent a + hundred pounds—and I can't do it!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, his big face relaxed. + </p> + <p> + “The country thinks I'm mad, working with such outlandish deviltry. But, + curse the thing, I have set out to do it and I am not going to throw it + up.” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly with an unexpected heat he damned the Buddha, shaking his + clenched hand before the box. + </p> + <p> + “Your pardon, Robin,” he cried, the moment after. “But the thing's + ridiculous, you know. The ritual story would be sheer rubbish. The beggars + could not affect a metal casting with a form of words.” + </p> + <p> + I have tried to set down here precisely what my uncle said. It was the + last talk I ever had with the man in this world, and it profoundly + impressed me. He was in fear, and his jovial manner was a ghastly + pretence. I left him sitting by the fire drinking neat whisky from a + tumbler. + </p> + <p> + The old man-servant took me up to my room. It was a big room in a wing of + the house looking out on the garden and the sea. I saw that it had been + cleaned and made ready against my coming; clearly the old man expected me. + </p> + <p> + He put the candle on the table and laid back the covers of the bed. And + suddenly I determined to have the matter out with him. + </p> + <p> + “Andrew,” I said, “why did you add that significant word to my uncle's + letter?” + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply with a little whimpering cry. + </p> + <p> + “The master, sir!” he said, and then he stopped as though uncertain in + what manner to go on. He made a hopeless sort of gesture with his extended + hands. + </p> + <p> + “I thought your coming might interrupt the thing.... You are of his family + and would be silent.” + </p> + <p> + “What threatens my uncle?” I cried, “What is the thing?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, his eyes moving about the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” he said, “the master is in some wicked and dangerous business. + You heard his talk, sir; that would not be the talk of a man at peace.... + He has strange visitors, sir, and the place is watched. I cannot tell you + any more than that, except that something is going to happen and I am + shaken with the fear of it.” + </p> + <p> + I looked out through the musty curtains before I went to bed. But the + whole world was dark, packed down in the thick mist. Once, in the + direction of the open sea, I thought I saw the flicker of a light. + </p> + <p> + I was tired and I slept profoundly, but somewhere in the sleep I saw my + uncle and a priest of Tibet gibbering over a ladle of molten silver. + </p> + <p> + It was nearly midday when I awoke. The whole world had changed as under + some enchantment; there was brilliant sun and afresh stimulating air with + the salt breath of the sea in it. Old Andrew gave me some breakfast and a + message. + </p> + <p> + His manner like everything else seemed to have undergone some + transformation. He was silent and, I thought, evasive. He repeated the + message without comment, as though he had committed it to memory from an + unfamiliar language: + </p> + <p> + “The master directed me to say that he must make a journey to Oban. It is + urgent business and will not be laid over.” + </p> + <p> + “When does my uncle return,” I said. + </p> + <p> + The old man shifted his weight from one foot to the other; he looked out + through the open window onto the strip of meadow extending into the loch. + Finally he replied: + </p> + <p> + “The master did not name the hour of his return.” + </p> + <p> + I did not press the interrogation. I felt that there was something here + that the old man was keeping back; but I had an impression of equal force + that he ought to be allowed the run of his discretion with it. Besides, + the brilliant morning had swept out my sinister impressions. + </p> + <p> + I got my cap and stick from the rack by the door and went out. The house + was within a hundred paces of the loch, in a place of wild beauty on a bit + of moor, yellow with gorse, extending from the great barren mountains + behind it right down into the water. Immense banners of mist lay along the + tops of these mountain peaks, and streams of water like skeins of silk + marked the deep gorges in dazzling whiteness. + </p> + <p> + The loch was a crooked finger of the sea hooked into the land. It was + clear as glass in the bright morning. The open sea was directly beyond the + crook of the finger, barred out by a nest of needlepointed rocks. On this + morning, with the sea motionless, they stood up like the teeth of a + harrow, but in heavy weather I imagined that the waves covered them. To + the eye they were not the height of a man above the level water; they + glistened in the brilliant sun like a sheaf of black pikes. + </p> + <p> + This was Saint Conan's Landing, and it occurred to me that if the holy man + came in rough weather from the Irish coast he required, in truth, all the + perspicacity of a saint to get his boat in without having it impaled on + these devil's needles. + </p> + <p> + There was no garden to speak of about the house. It was grown up like the + moor. Two or three images of Buddhas stood about in it; one of them was + quite large—three feet in height I should say at a guess. They were + on rough stone pedestals. I examined them carefully. They were all + defective; the large one had an immense flaw in the shoulder. The gorse + nearly covered them; the unkept hedge let the moor in and there were no + longer any paths, except one running to the boathouse. + </p> + <p> + I did not follow the path. But I looked down at the boathouse with some + interest. This was the building that my uncle had turned into a sort of + foundry for his weird experiments. There was a big lock on the door and a + coal-blacked chimney standing above the roof. + </p> + <p> + It was afternoon. The whole coast about me was like an undiscovered + country. I hardly knew in what direction to set out on my exploration. I + stood in the path digging my stick into the gravel and undecided. Finally + I determined to cross the bit of moor to the high ground overlooking the + loch. It was the sloping base of one of the great peaks and purple with + heather. It looked the best point for a full sweep of the sea and the + coast. + </p> + <p> + I jumped the hedge and set out across the moor to the high ground. + </p> + <p> + There was no path through the gorse, but when I reached the heather where + the foot of the mountain peak descended into the loch there was a sort of + newly broken trail. The heather was high and dense and I followed the + trail onto the high ground overlooking the sweep of the coast. + </p> + <p> + The loch was dappled with sun. The air was like wine. The mountains above + the moor and the heather were colored like an Oriental carpet. I was full + of the joy of life and swung into an immense stride, when suddenly a voice + stopped me. + </p> + <p> + “My lad,” it said, “which one of the Ten Commandments is it the most + dangerous to break?” + </p> + <p> + Before me, at the end of the trail, seated on the ground, was a big + Highlander. He was knitting a woolen stocking and his needles were + clicking like an instrument. I was taken off my feet, but I tried to meet + him on his ground. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I answered, “I suppose it would be the one against murder, the + sixth.” + </p> + <p> + “You suppose wrong,” he replied. “It will be the first. You will read in + the Book how Jehovah set aside the sixth. Aye, my lad, He ordered it + broken when it pleased Him. But did you ever read that He set aside the + first or that any man escaped who broke it?” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with the deep rich burr of his race and with a structure of + speech that I cannot reproduce here. + </p> + <p> + “Did you observe,” he added, “the graven images that your uncle has set + up?... Where is the man the noo?” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone to Oban,” I said. + </p> + <p> + He sprang up and thrust the stocking and needles into his sporran. + </p> + <p> + “To Oban!” He stood a moment in some deep reflection. “There will be ships + out of Oban.” Then he put another question to me: + </p> + <p> + “What did auld Andrew say about it?” + </p> + <p> + “That my uncle was gone to Oban,” I answered, “and had set no time for his + return.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me queerly for a moment, towering above me in the deep + heather. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, my lad, that your uncle could be setting out for heathen + parts to learn the witch words for his hell business in the boathouse?” + </p> + <p> + The suggestion startled me. The thing was not beyond all possibility. + </p> + <p> + But I felt that I had come to the end of this examination. I was not going + to be questioned further like a small boy overtaken on the road I had + answered a good many questions and I determined to ask one. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” I said. “And what have you got to do with my uncle's + affairs?” + </p> + <p> + He cocked his eye at me, looking down as one looks down at a child. + </p> + <p> + “The first of your questions,” he said, “you will find out if you can, and + the second you cannot find out if you will.” And he was gone, striding + past me in the deep heather. + </p> + <p> + “I have some business with your uncle, of a pressing nature,” he called + back. “I will just take a look through Oban, the night and the morn's + morn.” + </p> + <p> + I was utterly at sea about the big Highlander. He might be a friend or an + enemy of my uncle. But clearly he knew all about the man and the + mysterious experiment in which he was engaged. He was keeping the place + well within his eye; that was also evident. From his seat in the heather + the whole place was spread out below him. + </p> + <p> + And his queer speech fitted with old Andrew's fear. Surely the Buddha was + a heathen image and my uncle had set it up. The stern Scotch conscience + would be outraged and see the Decalogue violated in its injunctions. This + would explain the dread with which my uncle's house was regarded and the + reason I could find no man to help me on the way to it. But it would not + explain my uncle's apprehension. + </p> + <p> + But my adventure on this afternoon did not end with the big Highlander. I + found out something more. + </p> + <p> + I returned along the edge of the loch and approached the boathouse from + the waterside. + </p> + <p> + Here the path passed directly along the whole wall of the building. The + path was padded with damp sod, and as it happened I made no sound on it. + It was late afternoon, the shadows were beginning to extend, there was no + wind and the whole world was intensely quiet. Midway of the wall I stopped + to listen. + </p> + <p> + The house was not empty. There was some one in it. I could hear him moving + about. + </p> + <p> + It was of no use to try to look in through the wall; every joint and crack + of the stones was plastered. I went on. + </p> + <p> + Old Andrew was about setting me some supper. He came over and stood a + moment by the window looking at the shadows on the loch. And I tried to + take him unaware with a sudden question: + </p> + <p> + “Has my uncle returned from Oban?” + </p> + <p> + But I had no profit of the venture. + </p> + <p> + “The master,” he said, “is where he went this morning.” + </p> + <p> + The strange elements in this affair seemed on the point of converging upon + some common center. The thing was in the air. Old Andrew voiced it when he + went out with his candle. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir,” he said, “it was the fool work of an old man to bring you into + this affair. The master will have his way and he must meet what waits for + him at the end of it.” + </p> + <p> + I saw how he hoped that my visit might interrupt some plan that my uncle + was about to put into effect, but realized that it was useless. + </p> + <p> + Clearly my uncle had not left the place; he had been at work all day in + the boathouse. The journey was to account to me for his disappearance. I + had passed the lie along to the queer sentinel that sat watching in the + heather and I wondered whether I had sent a friend or an enemy into Oban + on an empty mission, and whether I had fouled or forwarded my uncle's + enterprise. + </p> + <p> + I put out the candle and sat down by the window to keep watch, for the + boathouse, the loch and the open sea were under the sweep of it. But, + alas, Nature overreaches our resolves when we are young. It was far into + the night when I awoke. + </p> + <p> + A wind was coming up and I think it was the rattle of the window that + aroused me. There was no moon, but under the open stars the world was + filled with a thin, ghostly light, and the scene below the window was + blurred a little like an impalpable picture. + </p> + <p> + A low-masted sailing ship lay in the open sea; there was a boat at the + edge of the loch, and human figures were coming out of the boathouse with + burdens which they were loading into the boat. Almost immediately the + boat, manned with rowers, turned about and silently traversed the crook of + the loch on its way to the ship. But certain of the human figures + remained. They continued between the boathouse and the beach. + </p> + <p> + And I realized that I had opened my eyes on the loading of a ship. The + boat was taking off a cargo. + </p> + <p> + Something stored in the boathouse was being transferred to the hold of the + sailing ship. The scene was inconceivably unreal. There was no sound but + the intermittent puffs of the wind, and the figures were like phantoms in + a sort of lighted mist. Directly as I looked two figures came out of the + boathouse and along the path to the drawing-room door under my window. I + took off my shoes and crept carefully out of the room and down the + stairway. The door from the hall into the long, low room was ajar. I stood + behind it, and looked in through the crack. + </p> + <p> + My uncle was burning letters and papers in the fireplace with a candle, + and in the chair beyond him sat the strangest human creature that I had + ever seen in the world. + </p> + <p> + He was a big Oriental with a sodden, brutal face fixed as by some sorcery + into an expression of eternal calm. He wore the uniform of an English + skipper. It was dirty and sea-stained as though picked up at some sailor's + auction. He was speaking to my uncle and his careful precise sentences in + the English tongue, coming from the creature, seemed thereby to take on + added menace. + </p> + <p> + “Is it wise, Sahib,” he said, “to leave any man behind us in this house?” + </p> + <p> + “We can do nothing else,” replied my uncle. + </p> + <p> + The Oriental continued with the same carefully selected words: + </p> + <p> + “Easily we can do something else, Sahib,” he said, “with a bar of pig + securely lashed to the ankles, the sea would receive them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied my uncle, busy with his letters and the candle. The big + Oriental did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Reflect, Sahib,” he went on. “We are entering an immense peril. The thing + that will be hunting us has innumerable agencies everywhere in its + service. If it shall discover that we have falsified its symbols, it will + search the earth for us. And what are we, Sahib, against this thing? It + does not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary.” + </p> + <p> + “The lad knows nothing,” replied my uncle, “and old Andrew will keep + silent.” + </p> + <p> + “Without trouble, Sahib,” the creature continued, “I can put the young one + beyond all knowledge and the old one beyond all speech. Is it permitted?” + </p> + <p> + My uncle got up from the fireplace, for he had finished with his work. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “let there be an end of it.” + </p> + <p> + He turned about, and under the glimmer of the candle I could see that the + man had changed; his big pale face was grim with some determined purpose, + and there was about him the courage and the authority of one who, after + long wavering, at last hazards a desperate venture. He broke the glass box + and put the Buddha into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “It is good silver,” he said, “and it has served its purpose.” + </p> + <p> + The Oriental got softly onto his feet like a great toy of cotton wood. His + face remained in its expression of equanimity, and he added no further + word of gesture to his argument. + </p> + <p> + My uncle held the door open for him to pass out, and after that he + extinguished the candle and followed, closing the door noiselessly behind + him. + </p> + <p> + The thing was like a scene acted in a playhouse. But it accomplished what + the playhouse fails in. It put the fear of death into one who watched it. + To me in the dark hall, looking through the crack of the door, the placid + Oriental in his English uniform, and with his precise words like an Oxford + don, was surely the most devilish agency that ever urged the murder of + innocent men on an accomplice. + </p> + <p> + The wind was continuing to rise and the mist now covered the loch and the + open sea. It was of no use to stand before the window, for the world was + blotted out. I was cold and I lay down on the bed and wrapped the covers + around me. It seemed only a moment later when old Andrew's hand was on me, + and his thin voice crying in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Will you sleep, sir, and God's creatures going to their death!” + </p> + <p> + He ran, whimpering in his thin old voice, down the stair, and I followed + him out of the house into the garden. + </p> + <p> + It was midmorning. A man was standing before the door, his hands behind + him, looking out at the sea. In his long trousers and bowler hat I did not + at once recognize him for the Highlander of my yesterday's adventure. + </p> + <p> + The coast was in the tail of a storm. The wind boomed, as though puffed by + a bellows, driving in gusts of mist. + </p> + <p> + The ship I had seen in the night was hanging in the sea just beyond the + crook of the loch. It fluttered like a snared bird. One could see the crew + trying every device of sail and tacking, but with all their desperate + ingenuities the ship merely hung there shivering like a stricken creature. + </p> + <p> + It was a fearful thing to look at. Now the mist covered everything and + then for a moment the wind swept it out, and all the time, the silent, + deadly struggle went on between the trapped ship and the sea running in + among the needles of the loch. I don't think any of us spoke except the + Highlander once in comment to himself. + </p> + <p> + “It's Ram Chad's tramp.... So that's the craft the man was depending on!” + </p> + <p> + Then the mist shut down. When it lifted, the doom of the ship was written. + It was moving slowly into the deadly maw of the loch. + </p> + <p> + Again the mist shut down and, when again the wind swept it out, the ship + had vanished. + </p> + <p> + There was the open sea and the long swells and the murderous current + boiling around the sharp points of the needles; but there was no ship nor + any human soul of the crew. Old Andrew screamed like a woman at the sight. + </p> + <p> + “The ship!” he cried. “Where is the ship and the master?” + </p> + <p> + The thing was so swift and awful that I spoke myself. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” I said. “How quickly the thing they feared destroyed them!” + </p> + <p> + The big Highlander came over where I stood. The burr of his speech and its + sacred imagery were gone with his change of dress. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “they escaped the thing they feared.... What do you think + it was?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” I answered. “The creature in the English uniform said that + it did not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary.” + </p> + <p> + “Ram Chad was right,” replied the Highlander. “The British government + neither dies, ages, nor tires out. Do you realize what your uncle was + doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “Molding images of Buddha,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Molding Indian rupees,” he retorted. + </p> + <p> + “The Buddha business was a blind.... I'm Sir Henry Marquis, Chief of the + Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. ... We got track of + him in India.” + </p> + <p> + Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “There's a hundred thousand sterling in false coin at the bottom of the + loch yonder!” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by +Melville Davisson Post + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLEUTH OF ST. 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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: The Sleuth of St. James's Square + +Author: Melville Davisson Post + +Posting Date: January 2, 2009 [EBook #2861] +Release Date: October, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer + + + + + +THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE + +By Melville Davisson Post + + +CONTENTS + + +I. THE THING ON THE HEARTH + +II. THE REWARD + +III. THE LOST LADY + +IV. THE CAMBERED FOOT + +V. THE MAN IN THE GREEN HAT + +VI. THE WRONG SIGN + +VII. THE FORTUNE TELLER + +VIII. THE HOLE IN THE MAHOGANY PANEL + +IX. THE END OF THE ROAD + +X. THE LAST ADVENTURE + +XI. AMERICAN HORSES + +XII. THE SPREAD RAILS + +XIII. THE PUMPKIN COACH + +XIV. THE YELLOW FLOWER + +XV. A SATIRE OF THE SEA + +XVI. THE HOUSE BY THE LOCH + + + + + +The SLEUTH of St. JAMES'S SQUARE + + + + +I. The Thing on the Hearth + + +"THE first confirmatory evidence of the thing, Excellency, was the print +of a woman's bare foot." + +He was an immense creature. He sat in an upright chair that seemed to +have been provided especially for him. The great bulk of him flowed out +and filled the chair. It did not seem to be fat that enveloped him. It +seemed rather to be some soft, tough fiber, like the pudgy mass making +up the body of a deep-sea thing. One got an impression of strength. + +The country was before the open window; the clusters of cultivated shrub +on the sweep of velvet lawn extending to the great wall that inclosed +the place, then the bend of the river and beyond the distant mountains, +blue and mysterious, blending indiscernibly into the sky. A soft sun, +clouded with the haze of autumn, shone over it. + +"You know how the faint moisture in the bare foot will make an +impression." + +He paused as though there was some compelling force in the reflection. +It was impossible to say, with accuracy, to what race the man belonged. +He came from some queer blend of Eastern peoples. His body and the +cast of his features were Mongolian. But one got always, before him, a +feeling of the hot East lying low down against the stagnant Suez. One +felt that he had risen slowly into our world of hard air and sun out of +the vast sweltering ooze of it. + +He spoke English with a certain care in the selection of the words, but +with ease and an absence of effort, as though languages were instinctive +to him--as though he could speak any language. And he impressed one with +this same effortless facility in all the things he did. + +It is necessary to try to understand this, because it explains the +conception everybody got of the creature, when they saw him in charge of +Rodman. I am using precisely the descriptive words; he was exclusively +in charge of Rodman, as a jinn in an Arabian tale might have been in +charge of a king's son. + +The creature was servile--with almost a groveling servility. But one +felt that this servility resulted from something potent and secret. One +looked to see Rodman take Solomon's ring out of his waistcoat pocket. + +I suppose there is no longer any doubt about the fact that Rodman was +one of those gigantic human intelligences who sometimes appear in the +world, and by their immense conceptions dwarf all human knowledge--a +sort of mental monster that we feel nature has no right to produce. Lord +Bayless Truxley said that Rodman was some generations in advance of +the time; and Lord Bayless Truxley was, beyond question, the greatest +authority on synthetic chemistry in the world. + +Rodman was rich and, everybody supposed, indolent; no one ever thought +very much about him until he published his brochure on the scientific +manufacture of precious stones. Then instantly everybody with any +pretension to a knowledge of synthetic chemistry turned toward him. + +The brochure startled the world. + +It proposed to adapt the luster and beauty of jewels to commercial uses. +We were being content with crude imitation colors in our commercial +glass, when we could quite as easily have the actual structure and the +actual luster of the jewel in it. We were painfully hunting over the +earth, and in its bowels, for a few crystals and prettily colored stones +which we hoarded and treasured, when in a manufacturing laboratory we +could easily produce them, more perfect than nature, and in unlimited +quantity. + +Now, if you want to understand what I am printing here about Rodman, +you must think about this thing as a scientific possibility and not as +a fantastic notion. Take, for example, Rodman's address before the +Sorbonne, or his report to the International Congress of Science in +Edinburgh, and you will begin to see what I mean. The Marchese Giovanni, +who was a delegate to that congress, and Pastreaux, said that the +something in the way of an actual practical realization of what Rodman +outlined was the formulae. If Rodman could work out the formulae, +jewel-stuff could be produced as cheaply as glass, and in any +quantity--by the carload. Imagine it; sheet ruby, sheet emerald, all the +beauty and luster of jewels in the windows of the corner drugstore! + +And there is another thing that I want you to think about. Think about +the immense destruction of value--not to us, so greatly, for our stocks +of precious stones are not large; but the thing meant, practically, +wiping out all the assembled wealth of Asia except the actual earth and +its structures. + +The destruction of value was incredible. + +Put the thing some other way and consider it. Suppose we should suddenly +discover that pure gold could be produced by treating common yellow clay +with sulphuric acid, or that some genius should set up a machine on the +border of the Sahara that received sand at one end and turned out sacked +wheat at the other! What, then, would our hoarded gold be worth, or the +wheat-lands of Australia, Canada or our Northwest? + +The illustrations are fantastic. But the thing Rodman was after was a +practical fact. He had it on the way. Giovanni and Lord Bayless Truxley +were convinced that the man would work out the formulae. They tried, +over their signatures, to prepare the world for it. + +The whole of Asia was appalled. The rajahs of the native states in India +prepared a memorial and sent it to the British Government. + +The thing came out after the mysterious, incredible tragedy. I should +not have written that final sentence. I want you to think, just now, +about the great hulk of a man that sat in his big chair beyond me at the +window. + +It was like Rodman to turn up with an outlandish human creature +attending him hand and foot. How the thing came about reads like a lie; +it reads like a lie; the wildest lie that anybody ever put forward to +explain a big yellow Oriental following one about. + +But it was no lie. You could not think up a lie to equal the actual +things that happened to Rodman. Take the way he died!.... + +The thing began in India. Rodman had gone there to consult with the +Marchese Giovanni concerning some molecular theory that was involved in +his formulas. Giovanni was digging up a buried temple on the northern +border of the Punjab. One night, in the explorer's tent, near the +excavations, this inscrutable creature walked in on Rodman. No one knew +how he got into the tent or where he came from. + +Giovanni told about it. The tent-flap simply opened, and the big +Oriental appeared. He had something under his arm rolled up in a +prayer-carpet. He gave no attention to Giovanni, but he salaamed like a +coolie to the little American. + +"Master," he said, "you were hard to find. I have looked over the world +for you." + +And he squatted down on the dirty floor by Rodman's camp stool. + +Now, that's precisely the truth. I suppose any ordinary person would +have started no end of fuss. But not Rodman, and not, I think, Giovanni. +There's the attitude that we can't understand in a genius--did you ever +know a man with an inventive mind who doubted a miracle? A thing like +that did not seem unreasonable to Rodman. + +The two men spent the remainder of the night looking at the present that +the creature brought Rodman in his prayer-carpet. They wanted to know +where the Oriental got it, and that's how his story came out. + +He was something--searcher, seems our nearest English word to it--in +the great Shan Monastery on the southeastern plateau of the Gobi. He was +looking for Rodman because he had the light--here was another word that +the two men could find no term in any modern language to translate; a +little flame, was the literal meaning. + +The present was from the treasure-room of the monastery; the very carpet +around it, Giovanni said, was worth twenty thousand lire. There +was another thing that came out in the talk that Giovanni afterward +recalled. Rodman was to accept the present and the man who brought it to +him. The Oriental would protect him, in every way, in every direction, +from things visible and invisible. He made quite a speech about it. But, +there was one thing from which he could not protect him. + +The Oriental used a lot of his ancient words to explain, and he did not +get it very clear. He seemed to mean that the creative Forces of the +spirit would not tolerate a division of worship with the creative forces +of the body--the celibate notion in the monastic idea. + +Giovanni thought Rodman did not understand it; he thought he himself +understood it better. The monk was pledging Rodman to a high virtue, in +the lapse of which something awful was sure to happen. + +Giovanni wrote a letter to the State Department when he learned what had +happened to Rodman. The State Department turned it over to the court at +the trial. I think it was one of the things that influenced the judge +in his decision. Still, at the time, there seemed no other reasonable +decision to make. The testimony must have appeared incredible; it must +have appeared fantastic. No man reading the record could have come to +any other conclusion about it. Yet it seemed impossible--at least, it +seemed impossible for me--to consider this great vital bulk of a man as +a monk of one of the oldest religious orders in the world. Every common, +academic conception of such a monk he distinctly negatived. He +impressed me, instead, as possessing the ultimate qualities of clever +diplomacy--the subtle ambassador of some new Oriental power, shrewd, +suave, accomplished. + +When one read the yellow-backed court-record, the sense of old, obscure, +mysterious agencies moving in sinister menace, invisibly, around Rodman +could not be escaped from. You believed it. Against your reason, against +all modern experience of life, you believed it. + +And yet it could not be true! One had to find that verdict or topple +over all human knowledge--that is, all human knowledge as we understand +it. The judge, cutting short the criminal trial, took the only way out +of the thing. + +There was one man in the world that everybody wished could have been +present at the time. That was Sir Henry Marquis. Marquis was chief of +the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. He had been in +charge of the English secret service on the frontier of the Shan states, +and at the time he was in Asia. + +As soon as Scotland Yard could release Sir Henry, it sent him. Rodman's +genius was the common property of the world. The American Government +could not, even with the verdict of a trial court, let Rodman's death go +by under the smoke-screen of such a weird, inscrutable mystery. + +I was to meet Sir Henry and come here with him. But my train into New +England was delayed, and when I arrived at the station, I found that +Marquis had gone down to have a look at Rodman's country-house, where +the thing had happened. + +It was on an isolated forest ridge of the Berkshires, no human soul +within a dozen miles of it--a comfortable stone house in the English +fashion. There was a big drawing-room across one end of it, with an +immense fireplace framed in black marble under a great white panel to +the ceiling. It had a wide black-marble hearth. There is an excellent +photograph of it in the record, showing the single andiron, that +mysterious andiron upon which the whole tragedy seemed to turn as on a +hinge. + +Rodman used this drawing-room for a workshop. He kept it close-shuttered +and locked. Not even this big, yellow, servile creature who took +exclusive care of him in the house was allowed to enter, except under +Rodman's eye. What he saw in the final scenes of the tragedy, he saw +looking in through a crack under the door. The earlier things he noticed +when he put logs on the fire at dark. + +Time is hardly a measure for the activities of the mind. These +reflections winged by in a scarcely perceptible interval of it. They +have taken me some time to write out here, but they crowded past while +the big Oriental was speaking--in the pause between his words. + +"The print," he continued, "was the first confirmation of evidence, +but it was not the first indicatory sign. I doubt if the Master himself +noticed the thing at the beginning. The seductions of this disaster +could not have come quickly; and besides that, Excellency, the agencies +behind the material world get a footing in it only with continuous +pressure. Do not receive a wrong impression, Excellency; to the eye a +thing will suddenly appear, but the invisible pressure will have been +for some time behind that materialization." + +He paused. + +"The Master was sunk in his labor, and while that enveloped him, the +first advances of the lure would have gone by unnoticed--and the tension +of the pressure. But the day was at hand when the Master was receptive. +He had got his work completed; the formula, penciled out, were on his +table. I knew by the relaxation. Of all periods this is the one most +dangerous to the human spirit." + +He sat silent for a moment, his big fingers moving on the arms of the +chair. + +"I knew," he added. Then he went on: "But it was the one thing against +which I could not protect him. The test was to be permitted." + +He made a vague gesture. + +"The Master was indicated--but the peril antecedent to his elevation +remained.... It was to be permitted, and at its leisure and in its +choice of time." + +He turned sharply toward me, the folds of his face unsteady. + +"Excellency!" he cried. "I would have saved the Master, I would have +saved him with my soul's damnation, but it was not permitted. On that +first night in the Italian's tent I said all I could." + +His voice went into a higher note. + +"Twice, for the Master, I have been checked and reduced in merit. For +that bias I was myself encircled. I was in an agony of spirit when I +knew that the thing was beginning to advance, but my very will to aid +was at the time environed." + +His voice descended. + +He sat motionless, as though the whole bulk of him were devitalized, and +maintained its outline only by the inclosing frame of the chair. + +"It began, Excellency, on an August night. There is a chill in these +mountains at sunset. I had put wood into the fireplace, and lighted it, +and was about the house. The Master, as I have said, had worked out +his formulae. He was at leisure. I could not see him, for the door was +closed, but the odor of his cigar escaped from the room. It was very +silent. I was placing the Master's bed-candle on the table in the +hall, when I heard his voice.... You have read it, Excellency, as the +scriveners wrote it down before the judge." + +He paused. + +"It was an exclamation of surprise, of astonishment. Then I heard +the Master get up softly and go over to the fireplace... Presently he +returned. He got a new cigar, Excellency, clipped it and lighted it. I +could hear the blade of the knife on the fiber of the tobacco, and of +course, clearly the rasp of the match. A moment later I knew that he was +in the chair again. The odor of ignited tobacco returned. It was some +time before there was another sound in the room; then suddenly I +heard the Master swear. His voice was sharp and astonished. This time, +Excellency, he got up swiftly and crossed the room to the fireplace... I +could hear him distinctly. There was the sound of one tapping on metal, +thumping it, as with the fingers." + +He stopped again, for a brief moment, as in reflection. + +"It was then that the Master unlocked the door and asked for the +liquor." He indicated the court record in my pocket. "I brought it, a +goblet of brandy, with some carbonated water. He drank it all without +putting down the glass.... His face was strange, Excellency.... Then he +looked at me. + +"'Put a log on the fire,' he said. + +"I went in and added wood to the fire and came out. + +"The Master remained in the doorway; he reentered when I came out, and +closed the door behind him.... There was a long silence after that; them +I heard the voice, permitted to the devocation thin, metallic, offering +the barter to the Master. It began and ceased because the Master was +on his feet and before the fireplace. I heard him swear again, and +presently return to his place by the table." + +The big Oriental lifted his face and looked out at the sweep of country +before the window. + +"The thing went on, Excellency, the voice offering its lure, and +presenting it in brief flashes of materialization, and the Master +endeavoring to seize and detain the visitations, which ceased instantly +at his approach to the hearth." + +The man paused. + +"I knew the Master contended in vain against the thing; if he would +acquire possession of what it offered, he must destroy what the creative +forces of the spirit had released to him." + +Again he paused. + +"Toward morning he went out of the house. I could hear him walking on +the gravel before the door. He would walk the full length of the house +and return. The night was clear; there was a chill in it, and every +sound was audible. + +"That was all, Excellency. The Master returned a little later and +ascended to his bedroom as usual." + +Then he added: + +"It was when I went in to put wood on the fire that I saw the footprint +on the hearth." + +There was a force, compelling and vivid, in these meager details, the +severe suppression of things, big and tragic. No elaboration could have +equaled, in effect, the virtue of this restraint. + +The man was going on, directly, with the story. + +"The following night, Excellency, the thing happened. The Master had +passed the day in the open. He dined with a good appetite, like a man in +health. And there was a change in his demeanor. He had the aspect of men +who are determined to have a thing out at any hazard. + +"After his dinner the Master went into the drawing-room and closed the +door behind him. He had not entered the room on this day. It had stood +locked and close-shuttered!" + +The big Oriental paused and made a gesture outward with his fingers, as +of one dismissing an absurdity. + +"No living human being could have been concealed in that room. There +is only the bare floor, the Master's table and the fireplace. The great +wood shutters were bolted in, as they had stood since the Master took +the room for a workshop and removed the furniture. The door was always +locked with that special thief-proof lock that the American smiths had +made for it. No one could have entered." + +It was the report of the experts at the trial. They showed by the casing +of rust on the bolts that the shutters had not been moved; the walls, +ceiling and floor were undisturbed; the throat of the chimney was coated +evenly with old soot. Only the door was possible as an entry, and this +was always locked except when Rodman was himself in the room. And at +such times the big Oriental never left his post in the hall before it. +That seemed a condition of his mysterious overcare of Rodman. + +Everybody thought the trial court went to an excessive care. It +scrutinized in minute detail every avenue that could possibly lead to +a solution of the mystery. The whole country and every resident was +inquisitioned. The conclusion was inevitable. There was no human +creature on that forest crest of the Berkshires but Rodman and his +servant. + +But one can see why the trial judge kept at the thing; he was seeking an +explanation consistent with the common experience of mankind. And when +he could not find it, he did the only thing he could do. He was wrong, +as we now know. But he had a hold in the dark on the truth--not the +whole truth by any means; he never had a glimmer of that. He never had +the faintest conception of the big, amazing truth. But as I have said, +he had his fingers on one essential fact. + +The man was going on with a slow, precise articulation as though he +would thereby make a difficult matter clear. + +"The night had fallen swiftly. It was incredibly silent. There was no +sound in the Master's room, and no light except the flicker of the logs +smoldering in the fireplace. The thin line of it appeared faintly along +the sill of the door." + +He paused. + +"The fireplace, Excellency, is at the end of the great room, directly +opposite this door into the hall, before which I always sat when the +Master was within. The fireplace is of black marble with an immense +black-marble hearth. And the gift which I had brought the Master stands +on one side of the fire, on this marble hearth, as though it were a +single andiron." + +The man turned back into the heart of his story. + +"I knew by the vague sense of pressure that the devocations of the +thing were again on the way. And I began to suffer in the spirit for the +Master's safety. Interference, both by act and by the will, were denied +me. But there is an anxiety of spirit, Excellency, that the uncertainty +of an issue makes intolerable." + +The man paused. + +"The pressure continued--and the silence. It was nearly midnight. I +could not distinguish any act or motion of the Master, and in fear +I crept over to the door and looked in through the crevice along the +threshold. + +"The Master sat by his table; he was straining forward, his hands +gripping the arms of his chair. His eyes and every tense instinct of the +man were concentrated on the fireplace. The red light of the embers was +in the room. I could see him clearly, and the table beyond him with the +calculations; but the fireplace seemed strangely out of perspective--it +extended above me. + +"My gift to the Master, not more than four handbreaths in length, +including the base, stood now like an immense bronze on an extended +marble slab beside a gigantic fireplace. This effect of extension put +the top of the fireplace and the enlarged andiron, above its pedestal, +out of my line of vision. Everything else in the chamber, holding its +normal dimensions, was visible to me. + +"The Master's face was a little lifted. He was looking at the elevated +portions of the andiron which were invisible to me. He did not move. The +steady light threw half of his face into shadow. But in the other half +every feature stood out sharply as in a delicate etching. It had that +refined sharpness and distinction which intense moments of stress stamp +on the human face. He did not move, and there was no sound. + +"I have said, Excellency, that my angle of vision along the crevice of +the doorsill was sharply cut midway of this now enlarged fireplace. From +the direction and lift of the Master's face, he was watching something +above this line and directly over the pedestal of the andiron. I +watched, also, flattening my face against the sill, for the thing to +appear. + +"And it did appear. + +"A naked foot became slowly visible, as though some one were descending +with extreme care from the elevation of the andiron to the great marble +hearth, under this strange enlargement, now some distance below." + +The big Oriental paused, and looked down at me. + +"I knew then, Excellency, that the Master was lost! The creative +energies of the Spirit suffer no division of worship; those of the +body must be wholly denied. I had warned the Master. And in travail, +Excellency, I turned over with my face to the floor. + +"But there is always hope, hope over the certainties of experience, over +the certainties of knowledge. Perhaps the Master, even now, sustained in +the spirit, would put away the devocation.... No, Excellency, I was not +misled. I knew the Master was beyond hope! But the will to hope moved +me, and I turned back to the crevice at the doorsill." + +He paused. + +"There was now a delicate odor, everywhere, faintly, like the blossom +of the little bitter apple here in your country. The red embers in the +fireplace gave out a steady light; and in the glow of it, on the marble +hearth, stood the one who had descended from the elevation of the +andiron." + +Again the man hesitated, as for an accurate method of expression. + +"In the flesh, Excellency, there was color that would not appear in +the image. The hair was yellow, and the eyes were blue; and against the +black marble of the fireplace the body was conspicuously white. But in +every other aspect of her, Excellency, the woman was on the hearth +in the flesh as she is in the clutch of the savage male figure in the +image. + +"There is no dress or ornament, as you will recall, Excellency. Not even +an ear-jewel or an anklet, as though the graver of the image felt +that the inherent beauty of his figure could take nothing from these +ostentations. The woman's heavy yellow hair was wound around her head, +as in the image. She shivered a little, faintly, like a naked child in +an unaccustomed draught of air, although she stood on the warm marble +hearth and within the red glow of the fire. + +"The voice from the male figure of the image, which I had brought the +Master, and which stood as the andiron, now so immensely enlarged, was +beginning again to speak. The thin metallic sounds seemed to splinter +against the dense silence, as it went forward in the ritual prescribed. + +"But the Master had already decided; he stood now on the great marble +hearth with his papers crushed together. And as I looked on, through the +crevice under the doorsill, he put out his free hand and with his +finger touched the woman gently. The flesh under his finger yielded, and +stooping over, he put the formulas into the fire." + +Like one who has come to the end of his story, the huge Oriental +stopped. He remained for some moments silent. Then he continued in an +even, monotonous voice: + +"I got up from the floor then, and purified myself with water. And after +that I went into an upper chamber, opened the window to the east, and +sat down to write my report to the brotherhood. For the thing which I +had been sent to do was finished." + +He put his hand somewhere into the loose folds of his Oriental garment +and brought out a roll of thin vellum like onion-skin, painted in +Chinese characters. It was of immense length, but on account of the +thinness of the vellum, the roll wound on a tiny cylinder of wood was +not above two inches in thickness. + +"Excellency," he said, "I have carefully concealed this report through +the misfortunes that have attended me. It is not certain that I shall +be able to deliver it. Will you give it for me to the jewel merchant +Vanderdick, in Amsterdam? He will send it to Mahadal in Bombay, and it +will go north with the caravans." + +His voice changed into a note of solicitation. + +"You will not fail me, Excellency--already for my bias to the Master I +am reduced in merit." + +I put the scroll into my pocket and went out, for a motorcar had come +into the park, and I knew that Marquis had arrived. + +I met Sir Henry and the superintendent in the long corridor; they had +been looking in at my interview through the elevated grating. + +"Marquis," I cried, "the judge was right to cut short the criminal trial +and issue a lunacy warrant. This creature is the maddest lunatic in this +whole asylum. The human mind is capable of any absurdity." + +Sir Henry looked at me with a queer ironical smile. + +"The judge was wrong," he said. "The creature, as you call him, is as +sane as any of us." + +"Then you believe this amazing story?" I said. + +"I believe Rodman was found at daylight dead on the hearth, with +practically every bone in his body crushed," he replied. + +"Certainly," I said. "We all know that is true. But why was he killed?" + +Again Sir Henry regarded me with his ironical smile. + +"Perhaps," he drawled, "there is some explanation in the report in your +pocket, to the Monastic Head. It's only a theory, you know." + +He smiled, showing his white, even teeth. + +We went into the superintendent's room, and sat down by a smoldering +fire of coals in the gate. I handed Marquis the roll of vellum. It was +in one of the Shan dialects. He read it aloud. With the addition of +certain formal expressions, it contained precisely the Oriental's +testimony before the court, and no more. + +"Ah!" he said in his curiously inflected Oxford voice. + +And he held the scroll out to the heat of the fire. The vellum baked +slowly, and as it baked, the black Chinese characters faded out and +faint blue ones began to appear. + +Marquis read the secret message in his emotionless drawl: + +"'The American is destroyed, and his accursed work is destroyed with +him. Send the news to Bangkok and west to Burma. The treasures of India +are saved."' + +I cried out in astonishment. + +"An assassin! The creature was an assassin! He killed Rodman simply by +crushing him in his arms!" + +Sir Henry's drawl lengthened. + +"It's Lal Gupta," he said, "the cleverest Oriental in the whole of Asia. +The jewel-traders sent him to watch Rodman, and to kill him if he was +ever able to get his formulae worked out. They must have paid him an +incredible sum." + +"And that is why the creature attached himself to Rodman!" I said. + +"Surely," replied Sir Henry. "He brought that bronze Romulus carrying +off the Sabine woman and staged the supernatural to work out his plan +and to save his life. I knew the bronze as soon as I got my eye on +it--old Franz Josef gave it as a present to Mahadal in Bombay for +matching up some rubies." + +I swore bitterly. + +"And we took him for a lunatic!" + +"Ah, yes!" replied Sir Henry. "What was it you said as I came in? 'The +human mind is capable of any absurdity!'" + + + + +II. The Reward + + +I was before one of those difficult positions unavoidable to a visitor +in a foreign country. + +I had to meet the obligations of professional courtesy. Captain Walker +had asked me to go over the manuscript of his memoirs; and now he had +called at the house in which I was a guest, for my opinion. We had long +been friends; associated in innumerable cases, and I wished to suggest +the difficulty rather than to express it. It was the twilight of an +early Washington winter. The lights in the great library, softened with +delicate shades, had been turned on. Outside, Sheridan Circle was almost +a thing of beauty in its vague outlines; even the squat, ridiculous +bronze horse had a certain dignity in the blue shadow. + +If one had been speculating on the man, from his physical aspect one +would have taken Walker for an engineer of some sort, rather than the +head of the United States Secret Service. His lean face and his angular +manner gaffe that impression. Even now, motionless in the big chair +beyond the table, he seemed--how shall I say it?--mechanical. + +And that was the very defect in his memoir. He had cut the great cases +into a dry recital. There was no longer in them any pressure of a human +impulse. The glow of inspired detail had been dissected out. Everything +startling and wonderful had been devitalized. + +The memoir was a report. + +The bulky typewritten manuscript lay on the table beside the electric +lamp, and I stood about uncertain how to tell him. + +"Walker," I said, "did nothing wonderful ever happen to you in the +adventure of these cases?" + +"What precisely do you mean, Sir Henry?" he replied. + +The practical nature of the man tempted me to extravagance. + +"Well," I said, "for example, were you never kissed in a lonely street +by a mysterious woman and the flash of your dark lantern reveal a face +of startling beauty?" + +"No," he said, as though he were answering a sensible question, "that +never happened to me." + +"Then," I continued, "perhaps you have found a prince of the church, +pale as alabaster, sitting in his red robe, who put together the +indicatory evidence of the crime that baffled you with such uncanny +acumen that you stood aghast at his perspicacity?" + +"No," he said; and then his face lighted. "But I'll tell you what I did +find. I found a drunken hobo at Atlantic City who was the best detective +I ever saw." + +I sat down and tapped the manuscript with my fingers. + +"It's not here," I said. "Why did you leave it out?" + +He took a big gold watch out of his pocket and turned it about in his +hand. The case was covered with an inscription. + +"Well, Sir Henry," he said, "the boys in the department think a good +deal of me. I shouldn't like them to know how a dirty tramp faked me at +Atlantic City. I don't mind telling you, but I couldn't print it in a +memoir." + +He went directly ahead with the story and I was careful not to interrupt +him: + +"I was sitting in a rolling chair out there on the Boardwalk before the +Traymore. I was nearly all in, and I had taken a run to Atlantic for a +day or two of the sea air. The fact is the whole department was down and +out. You may remember what we were up against; it finally got into the +newspapers. + +"The government plates of the Third Liberty Bond issue had disappeared. +We knew how they had gotten out, and we thought we knew the man at the +head of the thing. It was a Mulehaus job, as we figured it. + +"It was too big a thing for a little crook. With the government plates +they could print Liberty Bonds just as the Treasury would. And they +could sow the world with them." + +He paused and moved his gold-rimmed spectacles a little closer in on his +nose. + +"You see these war bonds are scattered all over the country. They are +held by everybody. It's not what it used to be, a banker's business that +we could round up. Nobody could round up the holders of these bonds. + +"A big crook like Mulehaus could slip a hundred million of them into the +country and never raise a ripple." + +He paused and drew his fingers across his bony protruding chin. + +"I'll say this for Mulehaus: He's the hardest man to identify in the +whole kingdom of crooks. Scotland Yard, the Service de la Surete, +everybody, says that. I don't mean dime-novel disguises--false whiskers +and a limp. I mean the ability to be the character he pretends--the +thing that used to make Joe Jefferson, Rip Van Winkle--and not an actor +made up to look like him. That's the reason nobody could keep track of +Mulehaus, especially in South American cities. He was a French banker in +the Egypt business and a Swiss banker in the Argentine." + +He turned back from the digression: + +"And it was a clean job. They had got away with the plates. We didn't +have a clew. We thought, naturally, that they'd make for Mexico or some +South American country to start their printing press. And we had the +ports and border netted up. Nothing could have gone out across the +border or, through any port. All the customs officers were, working with +us, and every agent of the Department of Justice." + +He looked at me steadily across the table. + +"You see the Government had to get those plates back before the crook +started to print, or else take up every bond of that issue over the +whole country. It was a hell of a thing! + +"Of course we had gone right after the record of all the big crooks +to see whose line this sort of job was. And the thing narrowed down to +Mulehaus or old Vronsky. We soon found out it wasn't Vronsky. He was in +Joliet. It was Mulehaus. But we couldn't find him. + +"We didn't even know that Mulehaus was in America. He's a big crook with +a genius for selecting men. He might be directing the job from Rio or +a Mexican port. But we were sure it was a Mulehaus' job. He sold the +French securities in Egypt in '90; and he's the man who put the bogus +Argentine bonds on our market--you'll find the case in the 115th Federal +Reporter. + +"Well," he went on, "I was sitting out there in the rolling chair, +looking at the sun on the sea and thinking about the thing, when +I noticed this hobo that I've been talking about. He was my chair +attendant, but I hadn't looked at him before. He had moved round from +behind me and was now leaning against the galvanized pipe railing. + +"He was a big human creature, a little stooped, unshaved and dirty; his +mouth was slack and loose, and he had a big mobile nose that seemed to +move about like a piece of soft rubber. He had hardly any clothing; a +cap that must have been fished out of an ash barrel, no shirt whatever, +merely an old ragged coat buttoned round him, a pair of canvas breeches +and carpet slippers tied on to his feet with burlap, and wrapped round +his ankles to conceal the fact that he wore no socks. + +"As I looked at him he darted out, picked up the stump of a cigarette +that some one had thrown down, and came back to the railing to smoke it, +his loose mouth and his big soft nose moving like kneaded putty. + +"Altogether this tramp was the worst human derelict I ever saw. And it +occurred to me that this was the one place in the whole of America where +any sort of a creature could get a kind of employment and no questions +asked. + +"Anything that could move and push a chair could get fifteen cents an +hour from McDuyal. Wise man, poor man, beggar man, thief, it was all one +to McDuyal. And the creatures could sleep in the shed behind the rolling +chairs. + +"I suppose an impulse to offer the man a garment of some sort moved me +to address him. + +"'You're nearly naked,' I said. + +"He crossed one leg over the other with the toe of the carpet slipper +touching the walk, in the manner of a burlesque actor, took the +cigarette out of his mouth with a little flourish, and replied to me: + +"'Sure, Governor, I ain't dolled up like John Drew.' + +"There was a sort of cocky unconcern about the creature that gave his +miserable state a kind of beggarly distinction. He was in among the very +dregs of life, and he was not depressed about it. + +"'But if I had a sawbuck," he continued, "I could bulge your eye .... +Couldn't point the way to one?' + +"He arrested my answer with the little flourish of his fingers holding +the stump of the cigarette. + +"'Not work, Governor,' and he made a little duck of his head, 'and not +murder.... Go as far as you please between 'em.' + +"The fantastic manner of the derelict was infectious. + +"'O. K.' I said. 'Go out and find me a man who is a deserter from the +German Army, was a tanner in Bale and began life as a sailor, and I'll +double your money--I'll give you a twenty-dollar bill.' + +"The creature whistled softly in two short staccato notes. + +"'Some little order,' he said. And taking a toothpick out of his pocket +he stuck it into the stump of the cigarette which had become too short +to hold between his fingers. + +"At this moment a boy from the post office came to me with the daily +report from Washington, and I got out of the chair, tipped the creature, +and went into the hotel, stopping to pay McDuyal as I passed. + +"There was nothing new from the department except that our organization +over the country was in close touch. We had offered five thousand +dollars reward for the recovery of the plates, and the Post Office +Department was now posting the notice all over America in every office. +The Secretary thought we had better let the public in on it and not keep +it an underground offer to the service. + +"I had forgotten the hobo, when about five o'clock he passed me a +little below the Steel Pier. He was in a big stride and he had something +clutched in his hand. + +"He called to me as he hurried along: 'I got him, Governor.... See you +later!' + +"'See me now,' I said. 'What's the hurry?' + +"He flashed his hand open, holding a silver dollar with his thumb +against the palm. + +"'Can't stop now, I'm going to get drunk. See you later.' + +"I smiled at this disingenuous creature. He was saving me for the dry +hour. He could point out Mulehaus in any passing chair, and I would give +some coin to be rid of his pretension." + +Walker paused. Then he went on: + +"I was right. The hobo was waiting for me when I came out of the hotel +the following morning. + +"'Howdy, Governor,' he said; 'I located your man.' + +"I was interested to see how he would frame up his case. + +"'How did you find him?' I said. + +"He grinned, moving his lip and his loose nose. + +"'Some luck, Governor, and some sleuthin'. It was like this: I thought +you was stringin' me. But I said to myself I'll keep out an eye; maybe +it's on the level--any damn thing can happen.' + +"He put up his hand as though to hook his thumb into the armhole of his +vest, remembered that he had only a coat buttoned round him and dropped +it. + +"'And believe me or not, Governor, it's the God's truth. About four +o'clock up toward the Inlet I passed a big, well-dressed, banker-looking +gent walking stiff from the hip and throwing out his leg. "Come eleven!" +I said to myself. "It's the goosestep!" I had an empty roller, and I +took a turn over to him.' + +"'"Chair, Admiral?" I said. + +"'He looked at me sort of queer. + +"'"What makes you think I'm an admiral, my man?" he answers. + +"Well," I says, lounging over on one foot reflective like, "nobody could +be a-viewin' the sea with that lovin', ownership look unless he'd bossed +her a bit.... If I'm right, Admiral, you takes the chair." + +"'He laughed, but he got in. "I'm not an admiral," he said, "but it is +true that I've followed the sea." + +"The hobo paused, and put up his first and second fingers spread like a +V. + +"'Two points, Governor--the gent had been a sailor and a soldier; now +how about the tanner business? + +"He scratched his head, moving his ridiculous cap. + +"'That sort of puzzled me, and I pussyfooted along toward the Inlet +thinkin' about it. If a man was a tanner, and especially a foreign, +hand-workin' tanner, what would his markin's be? + +"'I tried to remember everybody that I'd ever seen handlin' a hide, and +all at once I recollected that the first thing a dago shoemaker done +when he picked up a piece of leather was to smooth it out with his +thumbs. An' I said to myself, now that'll be what a tanner does, only he +does it more.... he's always doin' it. Then I asks myself what would be +the markin's?' + +"The hobo paused, his mouth open, his head twisted to one side. Then he +jerked up as under a released spring. + +"'And right away, Governor, I got the answer to it flat thumbs!' + +"The hobo stepped back with an air of victory and flashed his hand up. + +"'And he had 'em! I asked him what time it was so I could keep the hour +straight for McDuyal, I told him, but the real reason was so I could see +his hands.'" + +Walker crossed one leg over the other. + +"It was clever," he said, "and I hesitated to shatter it. But the +question had to come. + +"'Where is your man?' I said. + +"The hobo executed a little deprecatory step, with his fingers picking +at his coat pockets. + +"'That's the trouble, Governor,' he answered; 'I intended to sleuth him +for you, but he gave me a dollar and I got drunk... you saw me. That man +had got out at McDuyal's place not five minutes before. I was flashin' +to the booze can when you tried to stop me.... Nothin' doin' when I get +the price.'" + +Walker paused. + +"It was a good fairy story and worth something. I offered him half a +dollar. Then I got a surprise. + +"The creature looked eagerly at the coin in my fingers, and he moved +toward it. He was crazy for the liquor it would buy. But he set his +teeth and pulled up. + +"'No, Governor,' he said, 'I'm in it for the sawbuck. Where'll I find +you about noon?' + +"I promised to be on the Boardwalk before Heinz's Pier at two o'clock, +and he turned to shuffle away. I called an inquiry after him... You see +there were two things in his story: How did he get a dollar tip, and +how did he happen to make his imaginary man banker-looking? Mulehaus had +been banker-looking in both the Egypt and the Argentine affairs. I left +the latter point suspended, as we say. But I asked about the dollar. He +came back at once. + +"'I forgot about that, Governor,' he said. 'It was like this: The +admiral kept looking out at the sea where an old freighter was going +South. You know, the fruit line from New York. One of them goes by +every day or two. And I kept pushing him along. Finally we got up to the +Inlet, and I was about to turn when he stopped me. You know the neck of +ground out beyond where the street cars loop; there's an old board fence +by the road, then sand to the sea, and about halfway between the fence +and the water there's a shed with some junk in it. You've seen it. They +made the old America out there and the shed was a tool house. + +"'When I stopped the admiral says: "Cut across to the hole in that old +board fence and see if an automobile has been there, and I'll give you a +dollar." An' I done it, an' I got it.' + +"Then he shuffled off. + +"'Be on the spot, Governor, an' I'll lead him to you.'" + +Walker leaned over, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, and +linked his fingers together. + +"That gave me a new flash on the creature. He was a slicker article than +I imagined. I was not to get off with a tip. He was taking some pains to +touch me for a greenback. I thought I saw his line. It would not account +for his hitting the description of Mulehaus in the make-up of his +straw-man, but it would furnish the data for the dollar story. I had +drawn the latter a little before he was ready. It belonged in what he +planned to give me at two o'clock. But I thought I saw what the creature +was about. And I was right." + +Walker put out his hand and moved the pages of his memoir on the table. +Then he went on: + +"I was smoking a cigar on a bench at the entrance to Heinz's Pier when +the hobo shuffled up. He came down one of the streets from Pacific +Avenue, and the direction confirmed me in my theory. It also confirmed +me in the opinion that I was all kinds of a fool to let this dirty hobo +get a further chance at me. + +"I was not in a very good humor. Everything I had set going after +Mulehaus was marking time. The only report was progress in linking +things up; not only along the Canadian and Mexican borders and the +customhouses, but we had also done a further unusual thing, we had +an agent on every ship going out of America to follow through to the +foreign port and look out for anything picked up on the way. + +"It was a plan I had set at immediately the robbery was discovered. It +would cut out the trick of reshipping at sea from some fishing craft or +small boat. The reports were encouraging enough in that respect. We had +the whole country as tight as a drum. But it was slender comfort when +the Treasury was raising the devil for the plates and we hadn't a clew +to them." + +Walker stopped a moment. Then he went on: + +"I felt like kicking the hobo when he got to me, he was so obviously the +extreme of all worthless creatures, with that apologetic, confidential +manner which seems to be an abominable attendant on human degeneracy. +One may put up with it for a little while, but it presently becomes +intolerable. + +"'Governor,' he began, when he'd shuffled up, 'you won't git mad if I +say a little somethin'? + +"'Go on and say it,' I said. + +"The expression on his dirty unshaved face became, if possible, more +foolish. + +"'Well, then, Governor, askin' your pardon, you ain't Mr. Henry P. +Johnson, from Erie; you're the Chief of the United States Secret +Service, from Washington.'" + +Walker moved in his chair. + +"That made me ugly," he went on, "the assurance of the creature and my +unspeakable carelessness in permitting the official letters brought +to me on the day before by the post-office messenger to be seen. In my +relaxation I had forgotten the eye of the chair attendant. I took the +cigar out of my teeth and looked at him. + +"'And I'll say a little something myself!' I could hardly keep my foot +clear of him. 'When you got sober this morning and remembered who I was, +you took a turn up round the post office to make sure of it, and while +you were in there you saw the notice of the reward for the stolen bond +plates. That gave you the notion with which you pieced out your fairy +story about how you got the dollar tip. Having discovered my identity +through a piece of damned carelessness on my part, and having seen the +postal notice of the reward, you undertook to enlarge your little game. +That's the reason you wouldn't take fifty cents. It was your notion in +the beginning to make a touch for a tip. And it would have worked. But +now you can't get a damned cent out of me.' Then I threw a little brush +into him: 'I'd have stood a touch for your finding the fake tanner, +because there isn't any such person.' + +"I intended to put the hobo out of business," Walker went on, "but the +effect of my words on him were even more startling than I anticipated. +His jaw dropped and he looked at me in astonishment. + +"'No such person!' he repeated. 'Why, Governor, before God, I found a +man like that, an' he was a banker--one of the big ones, sure as there's +a hell!'" + +Walker put out his hands in a puzzled gesture. + +"There it was again, the description of Mulehaus! And it puzzled me. +Every motion of this hobo's mind in every direction about this affair +was perfectly clear to me. I saw his intention in every turn of it and +just where he got the material for the details of his story. But +this absolutely distinguishing description of Mulehaus was beyond me. +Everybody, of course, knew that we were looking for the lost plates, for +there was the reward offered by the Treasury; but no human soul outside +of the trusted agents of the department knew that we were looking for +Mulehaus." + +Walker did not move, but he stopped in his recital for a moment. + +"The tramp shuffled up a step closer to the bench where I sat. The +anxiety in his big slack face was sincere beyond question. + +"'I can't find the banker man, Governor; he's skipped the coop. But I +believe I can find what he's hid.' + +"'Well,' I said, 'go and find it.' + +"The hobo jerked out his limp hands in a sort of hopeless gesture. + +"'Now, Governor,' he whimpered, 'what good would it do me to find them +plates?' + +"'You'd get five thousand dollars,' I said. + +"'I'd git kicked into the discard by the first cop that got to me,' he +answered, 'that's what I'd git.' + +"The creature's dirty, unshaved jowls began to shake, and his voice +became wholly a whimper. + +"'I've got a line on this thing, Governor, sure as there's a hell. That +banker man was viewin' the layout. I've thought it all over, an' this is +the way it would be. They're afraid of the border an' they're afraid +of the customhouses, so they runs the loot down here in an automobile, +hides it up about the Inlet, and plans to go out with it to one of them +fruit steamers passing on the way to Tampico. They'd have them plates +bundled up in a sailor's chest most like. + +"'Now, Governor, you'd say why ain't they already done it? An' I'd +answer, the main guy--this banker man--didn't know the automobile had +got here until he sent me to look, and there ain't been no ship along +since then.... I've been special careful to find that out.' And then the +creature began to whine. 'Have a heart, Governor, come along with me. +Gimme a show!' + +"It was not the creature's plea that moved me, nor his pretended +deductions; I'm a bit old to be soft. It was the 'banker man' sticking +like a bur in the hobo's talk. I wanted to keep him in sight until I +understood where he got it. No doubt that seems a slight reason for +going out to the Inlet with the creature; but you must remember that +slight things are often big signboards in our business." + +He continued, his voice precise and even + +"We went directly from the end of the Boardwalk to the old shed; it was +open, an unfastened door on a pair of leather hinges. The shed is small, +about twenty feet by eleven, with a hard dirt floor packed down by the +workmen who had used it; a combination of clay and sand like the Jersey +roads put in to make a floor. All round it, from the sea to the board +fence, was soft sand. There were some pieces of old junk lying about in +the shed; but nothing of value or it would have been nailed up. + +"The hobo led right off with his deductions. There, was the track of a +man, clearly outlined in the soft sand, leading from the board fence to +the shed and returning, and no other track anywhere about. + +"'Now, Governor,' he began, when he had taken a look at the tracks, 'the +man that made them tracks carried something into this shed, and he left +it here, and it was something heavy.' + +"I was fairly certain that the hobo had salted the place for me, made +the tracks himself; but I played out a line to him. + +"'How do you know that?' I said. + +"'Well, Governor,' he answered, 'take a look at them two lines of +tracks. In the one comin' to the shed the man was walkin' with his feet +apart and in the one goin' back he was walkin' with his feet in front of +one another; that's because he was carryin' somethin' heavy when he come +an' nothin' when he left.' + +"It was an observation on footprints," he went on, "that had never +occurred to me. The hobo saw my awakened interest, and he added: + +"'Did you never notice a man carryin' a heavy load? He kind of totters, +walkin' with his feet apart to keep his balance. That makes his foot +tracks side by side like, instead of one before the other as he makes +them when he's goin' light."' + +Walker interrupted his narrative with a comment: + +"It's the truth. I've verified it a thousand times since that hobo put +me onto it. A line running through the center of the heel prints of a +man carrying a heavy burden will be a zigzag, while one through the heel +prints of the same man without the burden will be almost straight. + +"The tramp went right on with his deductions: + +"'If it come in and didn't go out, it's here.' + +"And he began to go over the inside of the shed. He searched it like a +man searching a box for a jewel. He moved the pieces of old castings and +he literally fingered the shed from end to end. He would have found a +bird's egg. + +"Finally he stopped and stood with his hand spread out over his mouth. +And I selected this critical moment to touch the powder off under his +game. + +"'Suppose,' I said, 'that this man with the heavy load wished to mislead +us; suppose that instead of bringing something here he took one of these +old castings away?' + +"The hobo looked at me without changing his position. + +"'How could he, Governor; he was pointin' this way with the load?' + +"'By walking backward,' I said. For it occurred to me that perhaps the +creature had manufactured this evidence for the occasion, and I wished +to test the theory." + +Walker went on in his slow, even voice: + +"The test produced more action than I expected. + +"The hobo dived out through the door. I followed to see him disappear. +But it was not in flight; he was squatting down over the footprints. +And a moment later he rocked back on his haunches with a little exultant +yelp. + +"'Dope's wrong, Governor,' he said; 'he was sure comin' this way.' Then +he explained: 'If a man's walkin' forward in sand or mud or snow the toe +of his shoe flirts out a little of it, an' if he's walkin' backward his +heel flirts it out.' + +"At this point I began to have some respect for the creature's ability. +He got up and came back into the shed. And there he stood, in his old +position, with his fingers over his mouth, looking round at the empty +shed, in which, as I have said, one could not have concealed a bird's +egg. + +"I watched him without offering any suggestion, for my interest in the +thing had awakened and I was curious to see what he would do. He stood +perfectly motionless for about a minute; and then suddenly he snapped +his fingers and the light came into his face. + +"'I got it, Governor!' Then he came over to where I stood. 'Gimme a +quarter to git a bucket.' + +"I gave him the coin, for I was now profoundly puzzled, and he went out. +He was gone perhaps twenty minutes, and when he came in he had a bucket +of water. But he had evidently been thinking on the way, for he set the +bucket down carefully, wiped his hands on his canvas breeches, and began +to speak, with a little apologetic whimper in his voice. + +"'Now look here, Governor,' he said, 'I'm a-goin' to talk turkey; do I +git the five thousand if I find this stuff?' + +"'Surely,' I answered him. + +"'An' there'll be no monkeyin', Governor; you'll take me down to a bank +yourself an' put the money in my hand?' + +"'I promise you that,' I assured him. + +"But he was not entirely quiet in his mind about it. He shifted uneasily +from one foot to the other, and his soft rubber nose worked. + +"'Now, Governor,' he said, 'I'm leery about jokers--I gotta be. I don't +want any string to this money. If I git it I want to go and blow it +in. I don't want you to hand me a roll an' then start any reformin' +stunt--a-holdin' of it in trust an' a probation officer a-pussyfootin' +me, or any funny business. I want the wad an' a clear road to the bright +lights, with no word passed along to pinch me. Do I git it?' + +"'It's a trade!' I said. + +"'O. K.,' he answered, and he took up the bucket. He began at the door +and poured the water carefully on the hard tramped earth. When the +bucket was empty he brought another and another. Finally about midway of +the floor space he stopped. + +"'Here it is!' he said. + +"I was following beside him, but I saw nothing to justify his words. + +"'Why do you think the plates are buried here?' I said. + +"'Look at the air bubbles comin' up, Governor,' he answered." + +Walker stopped, then he added: + +"It's a thing which I did not know until that moment, but it's the +truth. If hard-packed earth is dug up and repacked air gets into it, and +if one pours water on the place air bubbles will come up." + +He did not go on, and I flung at him the big query in his story. + +"And you found the plates there?" + +"Yes, Sir Henry," he replied, "in the false bottom of an old steamer +trunk." + +"And the hobo got the money?" + +"Certainly," he answered. "I put it into his hand, and let him go with +it, as I promised." + +Again he was silent, and I turned toward him in astonishment. + +"Then," I said, "why did you begin this story by saying the hobo faked +you? I don't see the fake; he found the plates and he was entitled to +the reward." + +Walker put his hand into his pocket, took out a leather case, selected +a paper from among its contents and handed it to me. "I didn't see the +fake either," he said, "until I got this letter." + +I unfolded the letter carefully. It was neatly written in a hand like +copper plate and dated Buenos Aires. + +DEAR COLONEL WALKER: When I discovered that you were planting an agent +on every ship I had to abandon the plates and try for the reward. Thank +you for the five thousand; it covered expenses. + +Very sincerely yours, + +D. Mulehaus. + + + + +III. The Lost Lady + + +It was a remark of old Major Carrington that incited this adventure. + +"It is some distance through the wood--is she quite safe?" + +It was a mere reflection as he went out. It was very late. I do not know +how the dinner, or rather the after-hours of it, had lengthened. It must +have been the incomparable charm of the woman. She had come, this night, +luminously, it seemed to us, through the haze that had been on her--the +smoke haze of a strange, blighting fortune. The three of us had been +carried along in it with no sense of time; my sister, the ancient Major +Carrington and I. + +He turned back in the road, his decayed voice whipped by the stimulus of +her into a higher note. + +"Suppose the village coachman should think her as lovely as we +do--what!" + +He laughed and turned heavily up the road a hundred yards or so to his +cottage set in the pine wood. I stood in the road watching the wheels +of the absurd village vehicle, the yellow cut-under, disappear. The old +Major called back to me; his voice seemed detached, eerie with the thin +laugh in it. + +"I thought him a particularly villainous-looking creature!" + +It was an absurd remark. The man was one of the natives of the island, +and besides, the innkeeper was a person of sound sense; he would know +precisely about his driver. + +I should not have gone on this adventure but for a further incident. + +When I entered the house my sister was going up the stair, the butler +was beyond in the drawing-room, and there was no other servant visible. +She was on the first step and the elevation gave precisely the height +that my sister ought to have received in the accident of birth. She +would have been wonderful with those four inches added--lacking beauty, +she had every other grace! + +She spoke to me as I approached. + +"Winthrop," she said, "what was in the package that Madame Barras +carried away with her tonight?" + +The query very greatly surprised me. I thought Madame Barras had carried +this package away with her several evenings before when I had put her +English bank-notes in my box at the local bank. My sister added the +explanation which I should have been embarrassed to seek, at the moment. + +"She asked me to put it somewhere, on Tuesday afternoon.... It was +forgotten, I suppose.... I laid it in a drawer of the library table.... +What did it contain?" + +I managed an evasive reply, for the discovery opened possibilities that +disturbed me. + +"Some certificates, I believe," I said. + +My sister made a little pretended gesture of dismay. + +"I should have been more careful; such things are of value." + +Of value indeed! The certificates in Madame Barras' package, that had +lain about on the library table, were gold certificates of the United +States Treasury--ninety odd of them, each of a value of one thousand +dollars! My sister went: + +"How oddly life has tossed her about.... She must have been a mere +infant at Miss Page's. The attachment of incoming tots to the older +girls was a custom.... I do not recall her.... There was always a string +of mites with shiny pigtails and big-eyed wistful faces. The older +girls never thought very much about them. One has a swarm-memory, +but individuals escape one. The older girl, in these schools, fancied +herself immensely. The little satellite that attached itself, with its +adoration, had no identity. It had a nickname, I think, or a number.... +I have forgotten. We minimized these midges out of everything that could +distinguish them.... Fancy one of these turning up in Madame Barras and +coming to me on the memory of it." + +"It was extremely lucky for her," I said. "Imagine arriving from the +interior of Brazil on the invitation of Mrs. Jordan to find that lady +dead and buried; with no friend, until, by chance, one happened on your +name in the social register, and ventured on a school attachment of +which there might remain, perhaps a memory only on the infant's side." + +My sister went on up the stair. + +"I am glad we happened to be here, and, especially, Winthrop, if you +have been able to assist her.... She is charming." + +Charming was the word descriptive of my sister, for it is a thing of +manner from a nature elevated and noble, but it was not the word for +Madame Barras. The woman was a lure. I mean the term in its large and +catholic sense. I mean the bait of a great cosmic impulse--the most +subtle and the most persistent of which one has any sense. + +The cunning intelligences of that impulse had decked her out with +every attractiveness as though they had taken thought to confound all +masculine resistance; to sweep into their service those refractory units +that withheld themselves from the common purpose. She was lovely, as the +aged Major Carrington had uttered it--great violet eyes in a delicate +skin sown with gold flecks, a skin so delicate that one felt that a kiss +would tear it! + +I do not know from what source I have that expression but it attaches +itself, out of my memory of descriptive phrases, to Madame Barras. And +it extends itself as wholly descriptive of her. You will say that the +long and short of this is that I was in love with Madame Barras, but I +point you a witness in Major Carrington. + +He had the same impressions, and he had but one passion in his life, a +distant worship of my sister that burned steadily even here at the +end of life. During the few evenings that Madame Barras had been in +to dinner with us, he sat in his chair beyond my sister in the +drawing-room, perfect in his early-Victorian manner, while Madame Barras +and I walked on the great terrace, or sat outside. + +One had a magnificent sweep of the world, at night, from that terrace. +It looked out over the forest of pines to the open sea. + +Madame Barras confessed to the pull of this vista. She asked me at what +direction the Atlantic entered, and when she knew, she kept it always in +her sight. + +It had a persisting fascination for her. At all times and in nearly any +position, she was somehow sensible of this vista; she knew the lights +almost immediately, and the common small craft blinking about. To-night +she had sat for a long time in nearly utter silence here. There was a +faint light on the open sea as she got up to take her leave of us; what +would it be she wondered. + +I replied that it was some small craft coming in. + +"A fishing-boat?" + +"Hardly that," I said, "from its lights and position it will be some +swifter power-boat and, I should say, not precisely certain about the +channel." + +I have been drawn here into reminiscence that did not, at the time, +detain me in the hall. What my sister had discovered to me, following +Major Carrington's remark, left me distinctly uneasy. It was very nearly +two miles to the village, the road was wholly forest and there would be +no house on the way; for my father, with an utter disregard for cost, +had sought the seclusion of a large acreage when he had built this +absurdly elaborate villa on Mount Desert Island. + +Besides I was in no mood for sleep. + +And, over all probability, there might be some not entirely imaginary +danger to Madame Barras. Not precisely the danger presented in Major +Carrington's pleasantry, but the always possible danger to one who is +carrying a sum of money about. It would be considered, in the world of +criminal activities, a very large sum of money; and it had been lying +here, as of no value, in a drawer of the library table since the day +on which the gold certificates had arrived on my check from the Boston +bank. + +Madame Barras had not taken the currency away as I imagined. It was +extremely careless of her, but was it not an act in character? + +What would such a woman know of practical concern? + +I spoke to the butler. He should not wait up, I would let myself in; and +I went out. + +I remember that I got a cap and a stick out of the rack; there was no +element of selection in the cap, but there was a decided subconscious +direction about the selection of the stick. It was a heavy blackthorn, +with an iron ferrule and a silver weight set in the head; picked up--by +my father at some Irish fair--a weapon in fact. + +It was not dark. It was one of those clear hard nights that are not +uncommon on this island in midsummer; with a full moon, the road +was visible even in the wood. I swung along it with no particular +precaution; I was not expecting anything to happen, and in fact, nothing +did happen on the way into the village. + +But in this attitude of confidence I failed to discover an event of this +night that might have given the whole adventure a different ending. + +There is a point near the village where a road enters our private one; +skirts the border of the mountain, and, making a great turn, enters the +village from the south. At this division of the road I heard distinctly +a sound in the wood. + +It was not a sound to incite inquiry. It was the sound of some +considerable animal moving in the leaves, a few steps beyond the road. +It did not impress me at the time; estrays were constantly at large in +our forests in summer, and not infrequently a roaming buck from the +near preserves. There was also here in addition to the other roads, +an abandoned winter wood-road that ran westward across the island to +a small farming settlement. Doubtless I took a slighter notice of the +sound because estrays from the farmers' fields usually trespassed on us +from this road. + +At any rate I went on. I fear that I was very much engrossed with the +memory of Madame Barras. Not wholly with the feminine lure of her, +although as I have written she was the perfection of that lure. One +passed women, at all milestones, on the way to age, and kept before +them one's sound estimates of life, but before this woman one lost one's +head, as though Nature, evaded heretofore, would not be denied. But the +weird fortune that had attended her was in my mind. + +Married to Senor Barras out of the door of a convent, carried to Rio +de Janeiro to an unbearable life, escaping with a remnant of her +inheritance in English bank-notes, she arrives here to visit the one, +old, persisting friend, Mrs. Jordan, and finds her dead! And what seemed +strange, incredible beyond belief, was that this creature Barras had +thought only of her fortune which he had depleted in two years to the +something less than twenty thousand pounds which I had exchanged for her +into our money; a mere fragment of her great inheritance. + +I had listened to the story entranced with the alluring teller of it; +wondering as I now wondered, on the road to the village, how anything +pretending to be man could think of money when she was before his eye. + +What could he buy with money that equaled her! And yet this curious +jackal had seen in her only the key to a strong-box. There was behind +it, in explanation, shadowed out, the glamor of an empire that Senor +Barras would set up with the millions in his country of revolutions, and +the enthusiasms of a foolish mother. + +And yet the jackal and this wreckage had not touched her. There was no +stain, no crumpled leaf. She was a fresh wonder, even after this, out of +a chrysalis. It was this amazing newness, this virginity of blossom from +which one could not escape. + +The word in my reflection brought me up. How had she escaped from +Barras? + +I had more than once in my reflections pivoted on the word. + +The great hotel was very nearly deserted when I entered. + +There was the glow of a cigar where some one smoked, at the end of the +long porch. Within, there was only a sleepy clerk. + +Madame Barras had not arrived... he was quite sure; she had gone out to +dinner somewhere and had not come in! + +I was profoundly concerned. But I took a moment to reflect before +deciding what to do. + +I stepped outside and there, coming up from the shadow of the porch, I +met Sir Henry Marquis. + +It was chance at its extreme of favor. If I had been given the +selection, in all the world, I should have asked for Sir Henry Marquis +at that decisive moment. + +The relief I felt made my words extravagant. + +"Marquis!" I cried. "You here!" + +"Ah, Winthrop," he said, in his drawling Oxford voice, "what have you +done with Madame Barras; I was waiting for her?" + +I told him, in a word, how she had set out from my house--my +concern--the walk down here and this result. I did not ask him at the +moment how he happened to be here, or with a knowledge of our guest. +I thought that Marquis was in Canada. But one does not, with success, +inquire of a C.I.D. official even in his own country. One met him in the +most unexpected places, unconcerned, and one would have said at leisure. + +But he was concerned to-night. What I told brought him up. He stood for +a moment silent. Then he said, softly, in order drat the clerk behind us +might not overhear. + +"Don't speak of it. I will get a light and go with you!" + +He returned in a moment and we went out. He asked me about the road, was +there only one way down; and I told him precisely. There was only the +one road into the village and no way to miss it unless one turned into +the public road at the point where it entered our private one along the +mountain. + +He pitched at once upon this point and we hurried back. + +We had hardly a further word on the way. I was decidedly uneasy about +Madame Barras by now, and Marquis' concern was hardly less evident. He +raced along in his immense stride, and I had all I could manage to keep +up. + +It may seem strange that I should have brought such a man as Sir Henry +Marquis into the search of this adventure with so little explanation +of my guest or the affair. But, one must remember, Marquis was an old +acquaintance frequently seen about in the world. To thus, on the spot +so to speak, draft into my service the first gentleman I found, was +precisely what any one would have done. It was probable, after all, that +there had been some reason why the cut-under had taken the other road, +and Madame Barras was quite all right. + +It was better to make sure before one raised the village--and Marquis, +markedly, was beyond any aid the village could have furnished. This +course was strikingly justified by every after-event. + +I have said that the night was not dark. The sky was hard with stars, +like a mosaic. This white moonlight entered through the tree-tops and +in a measure illumined the road. We were easily able to see, when we +reached the point, that the cut-under had turned out into the road +circling the mountain to the west of the village. The track was so +clearly visible in the light, that I must have observed it had I been +thinking of the road instead of the one who had set out upon it. + +I was going on quickly, when Marquis stopped. He was stooping over the +track of the vehicle. He did not come on and I went back. + +"What is it?" I said. + +He answered, still stooping above the track. + +"The cut-under stopped here." + +"How do you know that?" I asked, for it seemed hardly possible to +determine where a wheeled vehicle had stopped. + +"It's quite clear," he replied. "The horse has moved about without going +on." + +I now saw it. The hoof-marks of the horse had displaced the dust where +it had several times changed position. + +"And that's not all," Marquis continued. "Something has happened to the +cut-under here!" + +I was now closely beside him. + +"It was broken down, perhaps, or some accident to the harness?" + +"No," he replied. "The wheel tracks are here broadened, as though they +had skidded on a turn. This would mean little if the cut-under had been +moving at the time. But it was not moving; the horse was standing. The +cut-under had stopped." + +He went on as though in a reflection to himself. + +"The vehicle must have been violently thrown about here, by something." + +I had a sudden inspiration. + +"I see it!" I cried. "The horse took fright, stopped, and then bolted; +there has been a run-away. That accounts for the turn out. Let's hurry!" + +But Marquis detained me with a firm hand on my arm. + +"No," he said, "the horse was not running when it turned out and it did +not stop here in fright. The horse was entirely quiet here. The hoof +marks would show any alarm in the animal, and, moreover, if it had +stopped in fright there would have been an inevitable recoil which would +have thrown the wheels of the vehicle backward out of their track. No +moving animal, man included, stopped by fright fails to register +this recoil. We always look for it in evidences of violent assault. +Footprints invariably show it, and one learns thereby, unerringly, the +direction of the attack." + +He rose, his hand still extended and upon my arm. + +"There is only one possible explanation," he added. "Something happened +in the cut-under to throw it violently about in the road, and it +happened with the horse undisturbed and the vehicle standing still. The +wheel tracks are widened only at one point, showing a transverse but no +lateral movement of the vehicle." + +"A struggle?" I cried. "Major Carrington was right, Madame Barras has +been attacked by the driver!" + +Marquis' hand held me firmly in the excitement of that realization. +He was entirely composed. There was even a drawl in his voice as he +answered me. + +"Major Carrington, whoever he may be," he said, "is wrong; if we exclude +a third party, it was Madame Barras who attacked the driver." + +His fingers tightened under my obvious protest. + +"It is quite certain," he continued. "Taking the position of the +standing horse, it will be the front wheels of the cut-under that have +made, this widened track; the wheels under the driver's seat, and not +the wheels under the guest seat, in the rear of the vehicle. There has +been a violent struggle in this cut-under, but it was a struggle that +took place wholly in the front of the vehicle." + +He went on in his maddeningly imperturbable calm. + +"No one attacked our guest, but some one, here at this precise point, +did attack the driver of this vehicle." + +"For God's sake," I cried, "let's hurry!" + +He stepped back slowly to the edge of the road and the drawl in his +voice lengthened. + +"We do hurry," he said. "We hurry to the value of knowing that there was +no accident here to the harness, no fright to the horse, no attack on +the lady, and no change in the direction which the vehicle afterwards +took. Suppose we had gone on, in a different form of hurry, ignorant of +these facts?" + +At this point I distinctly heard again the sound of a heavy animal in +the wood. Marquis also heard it and he plunged into the thick bushes. +Almost immediately we were at the spot, and before us some heavy object +turned in the leaves. + +Marquis whipped an electric-flash out of his pocket. The body of a man, +tied at the hands and heels behind with a hitching-strap, and with a +linen carriage lap-cloth wound around his head and knotted, lay there +endeavoring to ease the rigor of his position by some movement. + +We should now know, in a moment, what desperate thing had happened! + +I cut the strap, while Marquis got the lap-cloth unwound from about the +man's head. It was the driver of the cut-under. But we got no gain from +his discovery. As soon as his face was clear, he tore out of our grasp +and began to run. + +He took the old road to the westward of the island, where perhaps he +lived. We were wholly unable to stop him, and we got no reply to our +shouted queries except his wild cry for help. He considered us his +assailants from whom, by chance, he had escaped. It was folly to think +of coming up with the man. He was set desperately for the westward of +the island, and he would never stop until he reached it. + +We turned back into the road: + +Marquis' method now changed. He turned swiftly into the road along the +mountain which the cut-under had taken after its capture. + +I was at the extreme of a deadly anxiety about Madame Barras. + +It seemed to me, now, certain that some gang of criminals having +knowledge of the packet of money had waylaid the cut-under. Proud of my +conclusion, I put the inquiry to Sir Henry as we hurried along. If we +weren't too late! + +He stopped suddenly like a man brought up at the point of a bayonet. + +"My word!" He jerked the expression out through his tightened jaws. "Has +she got ninety thousand dollars of your money!" And he set out again in +his long stride. I explained briefly as I endeavored to keep his pace. +It was her own money, not mine, but she did in fact have that large sum +with her in the cut-under on this night. I gave him the story of the +matter, briefly, for I had no breath to spare over it. And I asked him +what he thought. Had a gang of thieves attacked the cut-under? + +But he only repeated his expression. + +"My word!... You got her ninety thousand dollars and let her drive +away with no eye on her!.... Such trust in the honesty of our fellow +creatures!... My word!" + +I had to admit the deplorable negligence, but I had not thought of any +peril, and I did not know that she carried the money with her until the +conversation with my sister. There was some excuse for me. I could not +remember a robbery on this island. + +Marquis snapped his jaws. + +"You'll remember this one!" he said. + +It was a ridiculous remark. How could one ever forget if this +incomparable creature were robbed and perhaps murdered. But were there +not some extenuating circumstances in my favor. I presented them as we +advanced; my sister and I lived in a rather protected atmosphere apart +from all criminal activities, we could not foresee such a result. I had +no knowledge of criminal methods. + +"I can well believe it," was the only reply Marquis returned to me. + +In addition to my extreme anxiety about Madame Barras I began now to +realize a profound sense of responsibility; every one, it seemed, saw +what I ought to have done, except myself. How had I managed to overlook +it? It was clear to other men. Major Carrington had pointed it out to me +as I was turning away; and now here Sir Henry Marquis was expressing in +no uncertain words how negligent a creature he considered me--to permit +my guest, a woman, to go alone, at night, with this large sum of money. + +It was not a pleasant retrospect. Other men--the world--would scarcely +hold me to a lesser negligence than Sir Henry Marquis! + +I could not forbear, even in our haste, to seek some consolation. + +"Do you think Madame Barras has been hurt?" + +"Hurt!" he repeated. "How should Madame Barras be hurt?" + +"In the robbery," I said. + +"Robbery!" and he repeated that word. "There has been no robbery!" + +I replied in some astonishment. + +"Really, Sir Henry! You but now assured me that I would remember this +night's robbery." + +The drawl got back into his voice. + +"Ah, yes," he said, "quite so. You will remember it." + +The man was clearly, it seemed to me, so engrossed with the mystery +that it was idle to interrogate him. And he was walking with a devil's +stride. + +Still the pointed query of the affair pressed me, and I made another +effort. + +"Why did these assailants take Madame Barras on with them?" + +Marquis regarded me, I thought, with wonder. + +"The devil, man!" he said. "They couldn't leave her behind." + +"The danger would be too great to them?" + +"No," he said, "the danger would be too great to her." + +At this moment an object before us in the road diverted our attention. +It was the cut-under and the horse. They were standing by the roadside +where it makes a great turn to enter the village from the south. There +is a wide border to the road at this point, clear of underbrush, where +the forest edges it, and there are here, at the whim of some one, or by +chance, two great flat stones, one lying upon the other, but not fitting +by a hand's thickness by reason of the uneven surfaces. + +What had now happened was evident. The assailants of the cut-under +had abandoned it here before entering the village. They could not, of +course, go on with this incriminating vehicle. + +The sight of the cut-under here had on Marquis the usual effect of any +important evidential sign. He at once ceased to hurry. He pulled up; +looked over the cut-under and the horse, and began to saunter about. + +This careless manner was difficult for me at such a time. But for +his assurance that Madame Barras, was uninjured it would have been +impossible. I had a blind confidence in the man although his expressions +were so absurdly in conflict. + +I started to go on toward the village, but as he did not follow I turned +back. Marquis was sitting on the flat stones with a cigarette in his +fingers: + +"Good heavens, man," I cried, "you're not stopping to smoke a +cigarette?" + +"Not this cigarette, at any rate," he replied. "Madame Barras has +already smoked it.... I can, perhaps, find you the burnt match." + +He got the electric-flash out of his pocket, and stooped over. +Immediately he made an exclamation of surprise. + +I leaned down beside him. + +There was a little heap of charred paper on the brown bed of +pine-needles. Marquis was about to take up this charred paper when his +eye caught something thrust in between the two stones. It was a handful +of torn bits of paper. + +Marquis got them out and laid them on the top of the flat stones under +his light. + +"Ah," he said, "Madame Barras, while she smoked, got rid of some money." + +"The package of gold certificates!" I cried. "She has burned them?" + +"No," he replied, "Madame Barras has favored your Treasury in her +destructive process. These are five-pound notes, of the Bank of +England." + +I was astonished and I expressed it. + +"But why should Madame Barras destroy notes of the Bank of England?" + +"I imagine," he answered, "that they were some which she had, by chance, +failed to give you for exchange." + +"But why should she destroy them?" I went on. + +"I conclude," he drawled, "that she was not wholly certain that she +would escape." + +"Escape!" I cried. "You have been assuring me all along that Madame +Barras is making no effort to escape." + +"Oh, no," he replied, "she is making every effort." + +I was annoyed and puzzled. + +"What is it," I said, "precisely, that Madame Barras did here; can you +tell me in plain words?" + +"Surely," he replied, "she sat here while something was decided, and +while she sat here she smoked the cigarette, and while she smoked the +cigarette, she destroyed the money. But," he added, "before she had +quite finished, a decision was made and she hastily thrust the remaining +bits of the torn notes into the crevice between these stones." + +"What decision?" I said. + +Marquis gathered up the bits of torn paper and put them into his pocket +with the switched-off flash. + +"I wish I knew that," he said. + +"Knew what?" + +"Which path they have taken," he replied; "there seem to be two +branching from this point, but they pass over a bed of pine-needles and +that retains no impression.... Where do these paths lead?" + +I did not know that any paths came into the road at this point. But the +island is veined over with old paths. The lead of paths here, however, +was fairly evident. + +"They must come out somewhere on the sea," I said. + +"Right," he cried. "Take either, and let's be off... Madame's cigarette +was not quite cold when I picked it up." + +I was right about the direction of the paths but, as it happened, the +one Marquis took was nearly double the distance of the other to the sea; +and I have wondered always, if it was chance that selected the one taken +by the assailants of the cut-under as it was chance that selected the +one taken by us. + +Marquis was instantly gone, and I hurried along the path, running +nearly due east. There was light enough entering from the brilliant moon +through the tree-tops to make out the abandoned trail. + +And as I hurried, Marquis' contradicting expressions seemed to adjust +themselves into a sort of order, and all at once I understood what had +happened. The Brazilian adventurer had not taken the loss of his wife +and the fortune in English pounds sterling, lying down. He had followed +to recover them. + +I now saw clearly the reason for everything that had happened: the +attack on the driver, and my guest's concern to get rid of the English +money which she discovered remaining in her possession; this man would +have no knowledge of her gold certificates but he would be searching +for his English pounds. And if she came clear of any trace of these +five-pound notes, she might disclaim all knowledge of them and perhaps +send him elsewhere on his search, since it was always the money and not +the woman that he sought. + +This explanation was hardly realized before it was confirmed. + +I came out abruptly onto a slope of bracken, and before me at a few +paces on the path were Madame Barras and two men; one at some distance +in advance of her, disappearing at the moment behind a spur of the +slope that hid us from the sea, and I got no conception of him; but the +creature at her heels was a huge foreign beast of a man, in the dress of +a common sailor. + +What happened was over in a moment. + +I was nearly on the man when I turned out of the wood, and with a shout +to Madame Barras I struck at him with the heavy walking-stick. But the +creature was not to be taken unaware; he darted to one side, wrenched +the stick out of my hand, and dashed its heavy-weighted head into +my face. I went down in the bracken, but I carried with me into +unconsciousness a vision of Madame Barras that no shadow of the +lengthening years can blur. + +She had swung round sharply at the attack behind her, and she stood +bare-haired and bare-shouldered, knee-deep in the golden bracken, with +the glory of the moon on her; her arms hanging, her lips parted, her +great eyes wide with terror--as lovely in her desperate extremity as a +dream, as, a painted picture. I don't know how long I was down there, +but when I finally got up, and, following along the path behind the spur +of rock, came out onto the open sea, I found Sir Henry Marquis. He was +standing with his hands in the pockets of his loose tweed coat, and he +was cursing softly: + +"The ferry and the mainland are patroled... I didn't think of their +having an ocean-going yacht...." + +A gleam of light was disappearing into the open sea. + +He put his hand into his pocket and took out the scraps of torn paper. + +"These notes," he said, "like the ones which you hold in your +bank-vault, were never issued by the Bank of England." + +I stammered some incoherent sentence; and the great chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard turned toward me. + +"Do you know who that woman is?" + +"Surely," I cried, "she went to school with my sister at Miss Page's; +she came to visit Mrs. Jordan...." + +He looked at me steadily. + +"She got the data about your sister out of the Back Bay biographies and +she used the accident of Mrs. Jordan's death to get in with it... the +rest was all fiction." + +"Madame Barras?" I stuttered. "You mean Madame Barras?" + +"Madame the Devil," he said. "That's Sunny Suzanne. Used to be in the +Hungarian Follies until the Soviet government of Austria picked her up +to place the imitation English money that its presses were striking off +in Vienna." + + + + +IV. The Cambered Foot + + +I shall not pretend that I knew the man in America or that he was a +friend of my family or that some one had written to me about him. The +plain truth is that I never laid eyes on him until Sir Henry Marquis +pointed him out to me the day after I went down from here to London. It +was in Piccadilly Circus. + +"There's your American," said Sir Henry. + +The girl paused for a few moments. There was profound silence. + +"And that isn't all of it. Nobody presented him to me. I deliberately +picked him up!" + +Three persons were in the drawing-room. An old woman with high +cheekbones, a bowed nose and a firm, thin-lipped mouth was the central +figure. She sat very straight in her chair, her head up and her hands in +her lap. An aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, stood +at a window looking out, his hands behind his back, his chin lifted as +though he were endeavoring to see something far away over the English +country--something beyond the little groups of Highland cattle and the +great oak trees. + +Beside the old woman, on a dark wood frame, there was a fire screen made +of the pennant of a Highland regiment. Beyond her was a table with +a glass top. Under this cover, in a sort of drawer lined with purple +velvet, there were medals, trophies and decorations visible below +the sheet of glass. And on the table, in a heavy metal frame, was +the portrait of a young man in the uniform of a captain of Highland +infantry. + +The girl who had been speaking sat in a big armchair by this table. +One knew instantly that she was an American. The liberty of manner, +the independence of expression, could not be mistaken in a country of +established forms. She had abundant brown hair skillfully arranged under +a smart French hat. Her eyes were blue; not the blue of any painted +color; it was the blue of remote spaces in the tropic sky. + +The old woman spoke without looking at the girl. + +"Then," she said, "it's all quite as"--she hesitated for a +word--"extraordinary as we have been led to believe." + +There was the slow accent of Southern blood in the girl's voice as she +went on. + +"Lady Mary," she said, "it's all far more extraordinary than you have +been led to believe--than any one could ever have led you to believe. I +deliberately picked the man up. I waited for him outside the Savoy, and +pretended to be uncertain about an address. He volunteered to take me in +his motor and I went with him. I told him I was alone in London, at the +Ritz. It was Blackwell's bank I pretended to be looking for. Then we had +tea." + +The girl paused. + +Presently she continued: "That's how it began: You're mistaken to +imagine that Sir Henry Marquis presented me to this American. It was the +other way about; I presented Sir Henry. I had the run of the Ritz," she +went on. "We all do if we scatter money. Sir Henry came in to tea the +next afternoon. That's how he met Mr. Meadows. And that's the only place +he ever did meet him. Mr. Meadows came every day, and Sir Henry formed +the habit of dropping in. We got to be a very friendly party." + +The motionless old woman, a figure in plaster until now, kneaded her +fingers as under some moving pressure. "At this time," she said, "you +were engaged to Tony and expected to be his wife!" + +The girl's voice did not change. It was slow and even. "Yes," she said. + +"Tony, of course, knew nothing about this?" + +"He knows nothing whatever about it unless you have written him." + +Again the old woman moved slightly. "I have waited," she said, "for the +benefit of your explanation. It seems as--as bad as I feared." + +"Lady Mary," said the girl in her slow voice, "it's worse than you +feared. I don't undertake to smooth it over. Everything that you have +heard is quite true. I did go out with the man in his motor, in the +evening. Sometimes it was quite dark before we returned. Mr. Meadows +preferred to drive at night because he was not accustomed to the English +rule of taking the left on the road, when one always takes the right in +America. He was afraid he couldn't remember the rule, so it was safer at +night and there was less traffic. + +"I shall not try to make the thing appear better than it was. We +sometimes took long runs. Mr. Meadows liked the high roads along the +east coast, where one got a view of the sea and the cold salt air. We +ran prodigious distances. He had the finest motor in England, the very +latest American model. I didn't think so much about night coming on, the +lights on the car were so wonderful. Mr. Meadows was an amazing driver. +We made express-train time. The roads were usually clear at night and +the motor was a perfect wonder. The only trouble we ever had was with +the lights. Sometimes one, of them would go out. I think it was bad +wiring. But there was always the sweep of the sea under the stars to +look at while Mr. Meadows got the thing adjusted." + +This long, detailed, shameless speech affected the aged soldier at the +window. It seemed to him immodest bravado. And he suffered in his heart, +as a man old and full of memories can suffer for the damaged honor of a +son he loves. + +Continuing, the girl said: "Of course it isn't true that we spent +the nights touring the east coast of England in a racer. It was +dark sometimes when we got in--occasionally after trouble with the +lights--quite dark. We did go thundering distances." + +"With this person, alone?" The old woman spoke slowly, like one +delicately probing at a wound. + +"Yes," the girl admitted. "You see, the car was a roadster; only two +could go; and, besides, there was no one else. Mr. Meadows said he was +alone in London, and of course I was alone. When Sir Henry asked me to +go down from here I went straight off to the Ritz." + +The old woman made a slight, shivering gesture. "You should have gone to +my sister in Grosvenor Square. Monte would have put you up--and looked +after you." + +"The Ritz put me up very well," the girl continued. "And I am accustomed +to looking after myself. Sir Henry thought it was quite all right." + +The old woman spoke suddenly with energy and directness. "I don't +understand Henry in the least," she said. "I was quite willing for you +to go to London when he asked me for permission. But I thought he would +take you to Monte's, and certainly I had the right to believe that he +would not have lent himself to--to this escapade." + +"He seemed to be very nice about it," the girl went on. "He came in to +tea with us--Mr. Meadows and me--almost every evening. And he always +had something amusing to relate, some blunder of Scotland Yard or some +ripping mystery. I think he found it immense fun to be Chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department. I loved the talk: Mr. Meadows was +always interested and Sir Henry likes people to be interested." + +The old woman continued to regard the girl as one hesitatingly touches +an exquisite creature frightfully mangled. + +"This person--was he a gentleman?" she inquired. The girl answered +immediately. "I thought about that a good deal," she said. "He had +perfect manners, quite Continental manners; but, as you say over here, +Americans are so imitative one never can tell. He was not young--near +fifty, I would say; very well dressed. He was from St. Paul; a London +agent for some flouring mills in the Northwest. I don't know precisely. +He explained it all to Sir Henry. I think he would have been glad of +a little influence--some way to meet the purchasing agents for the +government. He seemed to have the American notion that he could come to +London and go ahead without knowing anybody. Anyway, he was immensely +interesting--and he had a ripping motor." + +The old man at the window did not move. He remained looking out over the +English country with his big, veined hands clasped behind his back. He +had left this interview to Lady Mary, as he had left most of the crucial +affairs of life to her dominant nature. But the thing touched him far +deeper than it touched the aged dowager. He had a man's faith in the +fidelity of a loved woman. + +He knew how his son, somewhere in France, trusted this girl, believed +in her, as long ago in a like youth he had believed in another. He knew +also how the charm of the girl was in the young soldier's blood, and +how potent were these inscrutable mysteries. Every man who loved a +woman wished to believe that she came to him out of the garden of a +convent--out of a roc's egg, like the princess in the Arabian story. + +All these things he had experienced in himself, in a shattered romance, +in a disillusioned youth, when he was young like the lad somewhere in +France. Lady Mary would see only broken conventions; but he saw immortal +things, infinitely beyond conventions, awfully broken. He did not move. +He remained like a painted picture. + +The girl went on in her soft, slow voice. "You would have disliked Mr. +Meadows, Lady Mary," she said. "You would dislike any American who came +without letters and could not be precisely placed." The girl's voice +grew suddenly firmer. "I don't mean to make it appear better," she said. +"The worst would be nearer the truth. He was just an unknown American +bagman, with a motor car, and a lot of time on his hands--and I picked +him up. But Sir Henry Marquis took a fancy to him." + +"I cannot understand Henry," the old woman repeated. "It's +extraordinary." + +"It doesn't seem extraordinary to me," said the girl. "Mr. Meadows was +immensely clever, and Sir Henry was like a man with a new toy. The Home +Secretary had just put him in as Chief of the Criminal Investigation +Department. He was full of a lot of new ideas--dactyloscopic bureaus, +photographie mitrique, and scientific methods of crime detection. He +talked about it all the time. I didn't understand half the talk. But +Mr. Meadows was very clever. Sir Henry said he was a charming person. +Anybody who could discuss the whorls of the Galton finger-print tests +was just then a charming person to Sir Henry." + +The girl paused a moment, then she went on + +"I suppose things had gone so for about a fortnight when your sister, +Lady Monteith, wrote that she had seen Sir Henry with us--Mr. Meadows +and me--in the motor. I have to shatter a pleasant fancy about that +chaperonage! That was the only time Sir Henry was ever with us. + +"It came about like this: It was Thursday morning about nine o'clock, +I think, when Sir Henry, popped in at the Ritz. He was full of some +amazing mystery that had turned up at Benton Court, a country house +belonging to the Duke of Dorset, up the Thames beyond Richmond. He +wanted to go there at once. He was fuming because an under secretary had +his motor, and he couldn't catch up with him. + +"I told him he could have 'our' motor. He laughed. And I telephoned Mr. +Meadows to come over and take him up. Sir Henry asked me to go along. +So that's how Lady Monteith happened to see the three of us crowded into +the seat of the big roadster." + +The girl went on in her deliberate, even voice + +"Sir Henry was boiling full of the mystery. He got us all excited by the +time we arrived at Benton Court. I think Mr. Meadows was as keen about +the thing as Sir Henry. They were both immensely worked up. It was an +amazing thing!" + +"You see, Benton Court is a little house of the Georgian period. It +has been closed up for ages, and now, all at once, the most mysterious +things began to happen in it. + +"A local inspector, a very reliable man named Millson, passing that way +on his bicycle, saw a man lying on the doorstep. He also saw some one +running away. It was early in the morning, just before daybreak. + +"Millson saw only the man's back, but he could distinguish the color +of his clothes. He was wearing a blue coat and reddish-brown trousers. +Millson said he could hardly make out the blue coat in the darkness, but +he could distinctly see the reddish brown color of the man's trousers. +He was very positive about this. Mr. Meadows and Sir Henry pressed him +pretty hard, but he was firm about it. He could make out that the +coat was blue, and he could see very distinctly that the trousers were +reddish-brown. + +"But the extraordinary thing came a little later. Millson hurried to a +telephone to get Scotland Yard, then he returned to Benton Court; but +when he got back the dead man had disappeared. + +"He insists that he was not away beyond five minutes, but within that +time the dead man had vanished. Millson could find no trace of him. +That's the mystery that sent us tearing up there with Mr. Meadows and +Sir Henry transformed into eager sleuths. + +"We found the approaches to the house under a patrol from Scotland Yard. +But nobody had gone in. The inspector was waiting for Sir Henry." + +The old man stood like an image, and the aged woman sat in her chair +like a figure in basalt. + +But the girl ran on with a sort of eager unconcern: "Sir Henry and Mr. +Meadows took the whole thing in charge. The door had been broken open. +They examined the marks about the fractures very carefully; then they +went inside. There were some naked footprints. They were small, as of a +little, cramped foot, and they seemed to be tracked in blood on the hard +oak floor. There was a wax candle partly burned on the table. And that's +all there was. + +"There were some tracks in the dust of the floor, but they were not very +clearly outlined, and Sir Henry thought nothing could be made of them. + +"It was awfully exciting. I went about behind the two men. Sir Henry +talked all the time. Mr. Meadows was quite as much interested, but he +didn't say anything. He seemed to say less as the thing went on. + +"They went over everything--the ground outside and every inch of the +house. Then they put everybody out and sat down by a table in the room +where the footprints were. + +"Sir Henry had been awfully careful. He had a big lens with which to +examine the marks of the bloody footprints. He was like a man on the +trail of a buried treasure. He shouted over everything, thrust his glass +into Mr. Meadows' hand and bade him verify what he had seen. His ardor +was infectious. I caught it myself. + +"Mr. Meadows, in his quiet manner, was just as much concerned in +unraveling the thing as Sir Henry. I never had so wild a time in all +my life. Finally, when Sir Henry put everybody else out and closed the +door, and the three of us sat down at the table to try to untangle the +thing, I very nearly screamed with excitement. Mr. Meadows sat with +his arms folded, not saying a word; but Sir Henry went ahead with his +explanation." + +The girl looked like a vivid portrait, the soft colors of her gown and +all the cool, vivid extravagancies of youth distinguished in her. Her +words indicated fervor and excited energy; but they were not evidenced +in her face or manner. She was cool and lovely. One would have thought +that she recounted the inanities of a curate's tea party. + +The aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, remained in +his position at the window. The old woman sat with her implacable face, +unchanging like a thing insensible and inorganic. + +This unsympathetic aspect about the girl did not seem to disturb her. +She went on: + +"The thing was thrilling. It was better than any theater--the three of +us at the old mahogany table in the room, and the Scotland Yard patrol +outside. + +"Sir Henry was bubbling over with his theory. 'I read this riddle like a +printed page,' he said. 'It will be the work of a little band of expert +cracksmen that the Continent has kindly sent us. We have had some +samples of their work in Brompton Road. They are professional crooks +of a high order--very clever at breaking in a door, and, like all the +criminal groups that we get without an invitation from over the Channel, +these crooks have absolutely no regard for human life.' + +"That's the way Sir Henry led off with his explanation. Of course he had +all that Scotland Yard knew about criminal groups to start him right. +It was a good deal to have the identity of the criminal agents selected +out; but I didn't see how he was going to manage to explain the mystery +from the evidence. I was wild to hear him. Mr. Meadows was quite as +interested, I thought, although he didn't say a word. + +"Sir Henry nodded, as though he took the American's confirmation as a +thing that followed. 'We are at the scene,' he said, 'of one of the most +treacherous acts of all criminal drama. I mean the "doing in," as our +criminals call it, of the unprofessional accomplice. It's a regulation +piece of business with the hard-and-fast criminal organizations of the +Continent, like the Nervi of Marseilles, or the Lecca of Paris. + +"'They take in a house servant, a shopkeeper's watchman, or a bank guard +to help them in some big haul. Then they lure him into some abandoned +house, under a pretense of dividing up the booty, and there put him out +of the way. That's what's happened here. It's a common plan with these +criminal groups, and clever of them. The picked-up accomplice would be +sure to let the thing out. For safety the professionals must "do him +in" at once, straight away after the big job, as a part of what the +barrister chaps call the res gestae.' + +"Sir Henry went on nodding at us and drumming the palm of his hand on +the edge of the table. + +"'This thing happens all the time,' he said, 'all about, where +professional criminals are at work. It accounts for a lot of mysteries +that the police cannot make head or tail of, like this one, for example. +Without our knowledge of this sinister custom, one could not begin or +end with an affair like this. + +"'But it's simple when one has the cue--it's immensely simple. We +know exactly what happened and the sort of crooks that were about the +business. The barefoot prints show the Continental group. That's the +trick of Southern Europe to go in barefoot behind a man to kill him.' + +"Sir Henry jarred the whole table with his big hand. The surface of the +table was covered with powdered chalk that the baronet had dusted over +it in the hope of developing criminal finger prints. Now under +the drumming of his palm the particles of white dust whirled like +microscopic elfin dancers. + +"'The thing's clear as daylight,' he went on: 'One of the professional +group brought the accomplice down here to divide the booty. He broke the +door in. They sat down here at this table with the lighted candle as you +see it. And while the stuff was being sorted out, another of the band +slipped in behind the man and killed him. + +"'They started to carry the body out. Millson chanced by. They got in a +funk and rushed the thing. Of course they had a motor down the road, +and equally of course it was no trick to whisk the body out of the +neighborhood.' + +"Sir Henry got half up on his feet with his energy in the solution of +the thing. He thrust his spread-out fingers down on the table like a +man, by that gesture, pressing in an inevitable, conclusive summing up." + +The girl paused. "It was splendid, I thought. I applauded like an +entranced pit! + +"But Mr. Meadows didn't say a word. He took up the big glass we had used +about the inspection of the place, and passed it over the prints Sir +Henry was unconsciously making in the dust on the polished surface of +the table. Then he put the glass down and looked the excited baronet +calmly in the face. + +"'There,' cried Sir Henry, 'the thing's no mystery.' + +"For the first time Mr. Meadows opened his mouth. 'It's the profoundest +mystery I ever heard of,' he said. + +"Sir Henry was astonished. He sat down and looked across the table at +the man. He wasn't able to speak for a moment, then he got it out: 'Why +exactly do you say that?' + +"Mr. Meadows put his elbows on the table. He twiddled the big reading +glass in his fingers. His face got firm and decided. + +"'To begin with,' he said, 'the door to this house was never broken by +a professional cracksman. It's the work of a bungling amateur. A +professional never undertakes to break a door at the lock. Naturally +that's the firmest place about a door. The implement he intends to use +as a lever on the door he puts in at the top or bottom. By that means +he has half of the door as a lever against the resistance of the lock. +Besides, a professional of any criminal group is a skilled workman. He +doesn't waste effort. He doesn't fracture a door around the lock. This +door's all mangled, splintered and broken around the lock.'" + +"He stopped and looked about the room, and out through the window at the +Scotland Yard patrol. The features of his face were contracted with +the problem. One could imagine one saw the man's mind laboring at the +mystery. 'And that's not all,' he said. 'Your man Millson is not telling +the truth. He didn't see a dead body lying on the steps of this house; +and he didn't see a man running away.' + +"Sir Henry broke in at that. 'Impossible,' he said; 'Millson's a +first-class inspector, absolutely reliable. Why do you say that he +didn't see the dead man on the steps or the assassin running away?' + +"Mr. Meadows answered in the same even voice. 'Because there was never +any dead man here,' he said, 'for anybody to see. And because Millson's +'description of the man he saw is scientifically an impossible feat of +vision.' + +"Impossible?' cried Sir Henry. + +"'Quite impossible,' Mr. Meadows insisted. 'Millson tells us that the +man he saw running away in the night wore a blue coat and reddish-brown +trousers. He says he was barely able to distinguish the blue coat, but +that he could see the reddish-brown trousers very clearly. Now, as a +matter of fact, it has been very accurately determined that red is the +hardest color to distinguish at night, and blue the very easiest. A +blue coat would be clearly visible long after reddish-brown trousers had +become indistinguishable in the darkness.' + +"Sir Henry's under jaw sagged a little. 'Why, yes,' he said, 'that's +true; that's precisely true. Gross, at the University of Gratz, +determined that by experiment in 1912. I never thought about it!' + +"'There are some other things here that you have not, perhaps, precisely +thought about,' Mr. Meadows went on. + +"'For example, the things that happened in this room did not happen in +the night. They happened in the day.' + +"He pointed to the half-burned wax candle on the table. 'There's a +headless joiner's nail driven into the table,' he said, 'and this candle +is set down over the nail. That means that the person who placed it +there wished it to remain there--to remain there firmly. He didn't put +it down there for the brief requirements of a passing tragedy, he put it +there to remain; that's one thing. + +"'Another thing is that this candle thus firmly fastened on the table +was never alight there. If it had ever been burning in its position on +the table, some of the drops of melted wax would have fallen about it. + +"'You will observe that, while the candle is firmly fixed, it does not +set straight; it is inclined at least ten degrees out of perpendicular. +In that position it couldn't have burned for a moment without dripping +melted wax on the table. And there's none on the table; there has never +been any on it. Your glass shows not the slightest evidence of a wax +stain.' He added: 'Therefore the candle is a blind; false evidence to +give us the impression of a night affair.' + +"Sir Henry's jaw sagged; now his mouth gaped. 'True,' he said. 'True, +true.' He seemed to get some relief to his damaged deductions out of the +repeated word. + +"The irony in Mr. Meadows' voice increased a little. 'Nor is that all,' +he said. 'The smear on the floor, and the stains in which the naked +foot tracked, are not human blood. They're not any sort of blood. It +was clearly evident when you had your lens over them. They show no +coagulated fiber. They show only the evidences of dye--weak dye--watered +red ink, I'd say.' + +"I thought Sir Henry was going to crumple up in his chair. He seemed to +get loose and baggy in some extraordinary fashion, and his gaping jaw +worked. 'But the footprints,' he said, 'the naked footprints?' His voice +was a sort of stutter-the sort of shaken stutter of a man who has come +a' tumbling cropper. + +"The American actually laughed: he laughed as we sometimes laugh at a +mental defective. + +"'They're not footprints!' he said. 'Nobody ever had a foot cambered +like that, or with a heel like it, or with toes like it. Somebody made +those prints with his hand--the edge of his palm for the heel and the +balls of his fingers for the toes. The wide, unstained distances +between these heelprints and the prints of the ball of the toes show the +impossible arch.' + +"Sir Henry was like a man gone to pieces. 'But who--who made them?' he +faltered. + +"The American leaned forward and put the big glass over the prints that +Sir Henry had made with his fingers in the white dust on the mahogany +table. 'I think you know the answer to your question,' he said. 'The +whorls of these prints are identical with those of the toe tracks.' + +"Then he laid the glass carefully down, sat back in his chair, folded +his arms and looked at Sir Henry. + +"'Now,' he said, 'will you kindly tell me why you have gone to the +trouble of manufacturing all these false evidences of a crime?"' + +The girl paused. There was intense silence in the drawing-room. The aged +man at the window had turned and was looking at her. The face of the old +woman seemed vague and uncertain. + +The girl smiled. + +"Then," she said, "the real, amazing miracle happened. Sir Henry got on +his feet, his big body tense, his face like iron, his voice ringing. + +"'I went to that trouble,' he said, 'because I wished to demonstrate--I +wished to demonstrate beyond the possibility of any error--that Mr. +Arthur Meadows, the pretended American from St. Paul, was in fact the +celebrated criminologist, Karl Holweg Leibnich, of Bonn, giving us the +favor of his learned presence while he signaled the German submarines +off the east coast roads with his high-powered motor lights.'" + +Now there was utter silence in the drawing-room but for the low of the +Highland cattle and the singing of the birds outside. + +For the first time there came a little tremor in the girl's voice. + +"When Sir Henry doubted this American and asked me to go down and make +sure before he set a trap for him, I thought--I thought, if Tony could +risk his life for England, I could do that much." + +At this moment a maid appeared in the doorway, the trim, immaculate, +typical English maid. "Tea is served, my lady," she said. + +The tall, fine old man crossed the room and offered his arm to the girl +with the exquisite, gracious manner with which once upon a time he had +offered it to a girlish queen at Windsor. + +The ancient woman rose as if she would go out before them. Then +suddenly, at the door, she stepped aside for the girl to pass, making +the long, stooping, backward curtsy of the passed Victorian era. + +"After you, my dear," she said, "always!" + + + + +V. The Man in the Green Hat + + +"Alas, monsieur, in spite of our fine courtesies, the conception of +justice by one race must always seem outlandish to another!" + +It was on the terrace of Sir Henry Marquis' villa at Cannes. The +members of the little party were in conversation over their tobacco--the +Englishman, with his brier-root pipe; the American Justice, with a +Havana cigar; and the aged Italian, with his cigarette. The last was +speaking. + +He was a very old man, but he gave one the impression of incredible, +preposterous age. He was bald; he had neither eyebrows nor eyelashes. A +wiry mustache, yellow with nicotine, alone remained. Great wrinkles lay +below the eyes and along the jaw, under a skin stretched like parchment +over the bony protuberances of the face. + +These things established the aspect of old age; but it was the man's +expression and manner that gave one the sense of incalculable antiquity. +The eyes seemed to look out from a window, where the man behind them had +sat watching the human race from the beginning. And his manners had +the completion of one whose experience of life is comprehensive and +finished. + +"It seems strange to you, monsieur"--he was addressing, in French, the +American Justice--"that we should put our prisoners into an iron cage, +as beasts are exhibited in a circus. You are shocked at that. It strikes +you as the crudity of a race not quite civilized. + +"You inquire about it with perfect courtesy; but, monsieur, you inquire +as one inquires about a custom that his sense of justice rejects." + +He paused. + +"Your pardon, monsieur; but there are some conceptions of justice in the +law of your admirable country that seem equally strange to me." + +The men about the Count on the exquisite terrace, looking down over +Cannes into the arc of the sea, felt that the great age of this man gave +him a right of frankness, a privilege of direct expression, they +could not resent. Somehow, at the extremity of life, he seemed beyond +pretenses; and he had the right to omit the digressions by which younger +men are accustomed to approach the truth. + +"What is this strange thing in our law, Count?" said the American. + +The old man made a vague gesture, as one who puts away an inquiry until +the answer appears. + +"Many years ago," he continued, "I read a story about the red Indians by +your author, Cooper. It was named 'The Oak Openings,' and was included, +I think, in a volume entitled Stories of the Prairie. I believe I have +the names quite right, since the author impressed me as an inferior +comer with an abundance of gold about him. In the story Corporal Flint +was captured by the Indians under the leadership of Bough of Oak, a +cruel and bloodthirsty savage. + +"This hideous beast determined to put his prisoner to the torture of the +saplings, a barbarity rivaling the crucifixion of the Romans. Two small +trees standing near each other were selected, the tops lopped off and +the branches removed; they were bent and the tops were lashed together. +One of the victim's wrists was bound to the top of each of the young +trees; then the saplings were released and the victim, his arms wrenched +and dislocated, hung suspended in excruciating agony, like a man nailed +to a cross. + +"It was fearful torture. The strain on the limbs was hideous, yet the +victim might live for days. Nothing short of crucifixion--that beauty of +the Roman law--ever equaled it." + +He paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +"Corporal Flint, who seemed to have a knowledge of the Indian character, +had endeavored so to anger the Indians by taunt and invective that some +brave would put an arrow into his heart, or dash his brains out with a +stone ax. + +"In this he failed. Bough of Oak controlled his braves and Corporal +Flint was lashed to the saplings. But, as the trees sprang apart, +wrenching the man's arms out of their sockets, a friendly Indian, +Pigeonwing, concealed in a neighboring thicket, unable to rescue his +friend and wishing to save him from the long hours of awful torture, +shot Corporal Flint through the forehead. + +"Now," continued the Count, "if there was no question about these facts, +and Bough of Oak stood for trial before any civilized tribunal on this +earth, do you think the laws of any country would acquit him of the +murder of Corporal Flint?" + +The whole company laughed. + +"I am entirely serious," continued the Count. "What do you think? There +are three great nations represented here." + +"The exigencies of war," said Sir Henry Marquis, "might differentiate a +barbarity from a crime." + +"But let us assume," replied the Count, "that no state of war existed; +that it was a time of peace; that Corporal Flint was innocent of wrong; +and that Bough of Oak was acting entirely from a depraved instinct bent +on murder. In other words, suppose this thing had occurred yesterday in +one of the Middle States of the American Republic?" + +The American felt that this question was directed primarily to himself. +He put down his cigar and indicated the Englishman by a gesture. + +"Your great jurist, Sir James Stephen," he began, "constantly reminds +us that the criminal law is a machine so rough and dangerous that we can +use it only with every safety device attached. + +"And so, Count," he continued, to the Italian, "the administration of +the criminal law in our country may seem to you subject to delays and +indirections that are not justified. These abuses could be generally +corrected by an intelligent presiding judge; but, in part, they are +incidental to a fair and full investigation of the charge against the +prisoner. I think, however, that our conception of justice does not +differ from that of other nations." + +The old Count shrugged his shoulders at the digression. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. "I do not refer to the mere administration +of the criminal law in your country; though, monsieur, we have been +interested in observing its peculiarities in such notable examples as +the Thaw trials in New York, and the Anarchist cases in Chicago some +years ago. I believe the judge in the latter trial gave about one +hundred instructions on the subject of reasonable doubt--quite +intelligible, I dare say, to an American jury; but, I must confess, +somewhat beyond me in their metaphysical refinements. + +"I should understand reasonable doubt if I were uninstructed, but I do +not think I could explain it. I should be, concerning it, somewhat as +Saint Augustine was with a certain doctrine of the Church when he said: +'I do not know if you ask me; but if you do not ask me I know very +well.'" + +He paused and blew a tiny ring or smoke out over the terrace toward the +sea. + +"There was a certain poetic justice finally in that case," he added. + +"The prisoners were properly convicted of the Haymarket murders," said +the American Justice. + +"Ah, no doubt," returned the Count; "but I was not thinking of that. +Following a custom of your courts, I believe, the judge at the end +of the trial put the formal inquiry as to whether the prisoners had +anything to say. Whereupon they rose and addressed him for six days!" + +He bowed. + +"After that, monsieur, I am glad to add, they were all very properly +hanged. + +"But, monsieur, permit me to return to my question: Do you think any +intelligent tribunal on this earth would acquit Bough of Oak of the +murder of Corporal Flint under the conditions I have indicated?" + +"No," said the American. "It would be a cold-blooded murder; and in the +end the creature would be executed." + +The old Count turned suddenly in his chair. + +"Yes," he said, "in a Continental court, it is certain; but in America, +monsieur, under your admirable law, founded on the common law of +England?" + +"I am sure we should hang him," replied the American. + +"Monsieur," cried the old Count, "you have me profoundly puzzled." + +It seemed to the little group on the terrace that they, and not the +Count, were indicated by that remark. He had stated a case about +which there could be no two opinions under any civilized conception of +justice. Sir Henry Marquis had pointed out the only element--a state of +war--which could distinguish the case from plain premeditated murder in +its highest degree. They looked to him for an explanation; but it did +not immediately arrive. + +The Count noticed it and offered a word of apology. + +"Presently--presently," he said. "We have these two words in +Italian--sparate! and aspetate! Monsieur." + +He turned to the American: + +"You do not know our language, I believe. Suppose I should suddenly call +out one of these words and afterward it should prove that a life hung +on your being able to say which word it was I uttered. Do you think, +monsieur, you could be certain? + +"No, monsieur; and so courts are wise to require a full explanation +of every extraordinary fact. George Goykovich, an Austrian, having no +knowledge of the Italian language, swore in the court of an American +state that he heard a prisoner use the Italian word sparate! and that he +could not be mistaken. + +"I would not believe him, monsieur, on that statement; but he explained +that he was a coal miner, that the mines were worked by Italians, and +that this word was called out when the coal was about to be shot down +with powder. + +"Ah, monsieur, the explanation is complete. George Goykovich must know +this word; it was a danger signal. I would believe now his extraordinary +statement." + +The Count stopped a moment and lighted another cigarette. + +"Pardon me if I seem to proceed obliquely. The incident is related to +the case I approach; and it makes clear, monsieur, why the courts of +France, for example, permit every variety of explanation in a +criminal trial, while your country and the great English nation limit +explanations. + +"You do not permit hearsay evidence to save a man's life; with a fine +distinction you permit it to save only his character!" + +"The rule," replied the American justice, "everywhere among +English-speaking people is that the best evidence of which the subject +is capable shall be produced. We permit a witness to testify only +to what he actually knows. That is the rule. It is true there are +exceptions to it. In some instances he may testify as to what he has +heard." + +"Ah, yes," replied the Count; "you will not permit such evidence to +take away a man's horse, but you will permit it to take away a +woman's reputation! I shall never be able to understand these delicate +refinements of the English law!" + +"But, Count," suggested Sir Henry Marquis, "reputation is precisely that +what the neighborhood says about one." + +"Pardon, monsieur," returned the Count. "I do not criticize your +customs. They are doubtless excellent in every variety of way. I deplore +only my inability to comprehend them. For example, monsieur, why should +you hold a citizen responsible in all other cases only for what he does, +but in the case of his own character turn about and try him for what +people say he does? + +"Thus, monsieur, as I understand it, the men of an English village +could not take away my pig by merely proving that everybody said it was +stolen; but they could brand me as a liar by merely proving what the +villagers said! It seems incredible that men should put such value on a +pig." + +Sir Henry Marquis laughed. + +"It is not entirely a question of values, Count." + +"I beg you to pardon me, monsieur," the Italian went on. "Doubtless, on +this subject I do nothing more than reveal an intelligence lamentably +inefficient; but I had the idea that English people were accustomed to +regard property of greater importance than life." + +"I have never heard," replied the Englishman, smiling, "that our courts +gave more attention to pigs than to murder." + +"Why, yes, monsieur," said the Count--"that is precisely what they have +been accustomed to do. It is only, I believe, within recent years that +one convicted of murder in England could take an appeal to a higher +court; though a controversy over pigs--or, at any rate, the pasture on +which they gathered acorns--could always be carried up." + +The great age of the Count--he seemed to be the representative in the +world of some vanished empire--gave his irony a certain indirection. +Everybody laughed. And he added: "Even your word 'murder,' I believe, +was originally the name of a fine imposed by the Danes on a village +unless it could be proved that the person found dead was an Englishman! + +"I wonder when, precisely, the world began to regard it as a crime to +kill an Englishman?" + +The parchment on the bones of his face wrinkled into a sort of smile. +His greatest friend on the Riviera was this pipe-smoking Briton. + +Then suddenly, with a nimble gesture that one would not believe possible +in the aged, he stripped back his sleeve and exhibited a long, curiously +twisted scar, as though a bullet had plowed along the arm. + +"Alas, monsieur," he said, "I myself live in the most primitive +condition of society! I pay a tribute for life.... Ah! no, monsieur; +it is not to the Camorra that I pay. It is quite unromantic. I think my +secretary carries it in his books as a pension to an indigent relative." + +He turned to the American + +"Believe me, monsieur, my estates in Salerno are not what they were; the +olive trees are old and all drains on my income are a burden--even this +gratuity. I thought I should be rid of it; but, alas, the extraordinary +conception of justice in your country!" + +He broke the cigarette in his fingers, and flung the pieces over the +terrace. + +"In the great range of mountains," he began, "slashing across the +American states and beautifully named the Alleghanies, there is a vast +measure of coal beds. It is thither that the emigrants from Southern +Europe journey. They mine out the coal, sometimes descending into the +earth through pits, or what in your language are called shafts, and +sometimes following the stratum of the coal bed into the hill. + +"This underworld, monsieur--this, sunless world, built underneath the +mountains, is a section of Europe slipped under the American Republic. +The language spoken there is not English. The men laboring in those +buried communities cry out sparate when they are about to shoot down the +coal with powder. It is Italy under there. There is a river called the +Monongahela in those mountains. It is an Indian name." + +He paused. + +"And so, monsieur, what happened along it doubtless reminded me of +Cooper's story--Bough of Oak and the case of Corporal Flint." + +He took another cigarette out of a box on the table, but he did not +light it. + +"In one of the little mining villages along this river with the +enchanting name there was a man physically like the people of the Iliad; +and with that, monsieur, he had a certain cast of mind not unHellenic. +He was tall, weighed two hundred and forty pounds, lean as a gladiator, +and in the vigor of golden youth. + +"There were no wars to journey after and no adventures; but there was +danger and adventure here. This land was full of cockle, winnowed out +of Italy, Austria and the whole south of Europe. It took courage and the +iron hand of the state to keep the peace. Here was a life of danger; +and this Ionian--big, powerful, muscled like the heroes of the Circus +Maximus--entered this perilous service. + +"Monsieur, I have said his mind was Hellenic, like his big, wonderful +body. Mark you how of heroic antiquity it was! It was his boast, among +the perils that constantly beset him, that no criminal should ever take +his life; that, if ever he should receive a mortal wound from the hand +of the assassins about him, he would not wait to die in agony by it. He +himself would sever the damaged thread of life and go out like a man! + +"Observe, monsieur, how like the great heroes of legend--like the +wounded Saul when he ordered his armor-bearer to kill him; like Brutus +when he fell on his sword!" + +He looked intently at the American. + +"Doubtless, monsieur," he went on, "those near this man along the +Monongahela did not appreciate his attitude of grandeur; but to us, in +the distance, it seemed great and noble." + +He looked out over the Mediterranean, where the great adventurers who +cherished these lofty pagan ideals once beat along in the morning of the +world. + +"On an afternoon of summer," he continued like one who begins a saga, +"this man, alone and fearless, followed a violator of the law and +arrested him in a house of the village. As he led the man away he +noticed that an Italian followed. He was a little degenerate, wearing a +green hat, and bearing now one name and now another. They traversed the +village toward the municipal prison; and this creature, featured like a +Parisian Apache, skulked behind. + +"As they went along, two Austrians seated on the porch of a house heard +the little man speak to the prisoner. He used the word sparate. They did +not know what he meant, for he spoke in Italian; but they recognized +the word, for it was the word used in the mines before the coal was shot +down. The prisoner made his reply in Italian, which the Austrians did +not understand. + +"It seemed that this man who had made the arrest did not know Italian, +for he stopped and asked the one behind him whether the prisoner was his +brother. The man replied in the negative." + +The Count paused, as though for an explanation. "What the Apache said +was: 'Shall I shoot him here or wait until we reach the ravine?' And the +prisoner replied: 'Wait until we come to the ravine.' + +"They went on. Presently they reached a sort of hollow, where the reeds +grew along the road densely and to the height of a man's head. Here the +Italian Apache, the degenerate with the green hat, following some three +steps behind, suddenly drew a revolver from his pocket and shot the man +twice in the back. It was a weapon carrying a lead bullet as large as +the tip of one's little finger. The officer fell. The Apache and the +prisoner fled. + +"The wounded man got up. He spread out his arms; and he shouted, with a +great voice, like the heroes of the Iliad. The two wounds were mortal; +they were hideous, ghastly wounds, ripping up the vital organs in the +man's body and severing the great arteries. The splendid pagan knew he +had received his death wounds; and, true to his atavistic ideal, the +ideal of the Greek, the Hebrew and the Roman, the ideal of the great +pagan world to which he in spirit belonged, and of which the poets sing, +he put his own weapon to his head and blew his brains out." + +The old Count, his chin up, his withered, yellow face vitalized, lifted +his hands like one before something elevated and noble. After some +moments had passed he continued: + +"On the following day the assassin was captured in a neighboring +village. Feeling ran so high that it was with difficulty that the +officers of the law saved him from being lynched. He was taken about +from one prison to another. Finally he was put on trial for murder. + +"There was never a clearer case before any tribunal in this world. + +"Many witnesses identified the assassin--not merely English-speaking +men, who might have been mistaken or prejudiced, but Austrians, Poles, +Italians--the men of the mines who knew him; who had heard him cry out +the fatal Italian word; who saw him following in the road behind his +victim on that Sunday afternoon of summer; who knew his many names and +every feature of his cruel, degenerate face. There was no doubt anywhere +in the trial. Learned surgeons showed that the two wounds in the dead +man's back from the big-calibered weapon were deadly, fatal wounds that +no man could have survived. + +"There was nothing incomplete in that trial. + +"Everything was so certain that the assassin did not even undertake to +contradict; not one statement, not one word of the evidence against him +did he deny. It was a plain case of willful, deliberate and premeditated +murder. The judge presiding at the trial instructed the jury that a man +is presumed to intend that which he does; that whoever kills a human +being with malice aforethought is guilty of murder; that murder which is +perpetrated by any kind of willful, deliberate and premeditated killing +is murder in the first degree. The jury found the assassin guilty and +the judge sentenced him to be hanged." + +The Count paused and looked at his companions about him on the terrace. + +"Messieurs," he said, "do you think that conviction was just?" + +There was a common assent. Some one said: "It was a cruel murder if ever +there was one." And another: "It was wholly just; the creature deserved +to hang." + +The old Count bowed, putting out his hands. + +"And so I hoped he would." + +"What happened?" said the American. + +The Count regarded him with a queer, ironical smile. + +"Unlike the great British people, monsieur," he replied, "your courts +have never given the pig, or the pasture on which he gathers his acorns, +a consideration above the human family. The case was taken to your Court +of Appeals of that province." + +He stopped and lighted his cigarette deliberately, with a match +scratched slowly on the table. + +"Monsieur," he said, "I do not criticize your elevated court. It is +composed of learned men--wise and patriotic, I have no doubt. They +cannot make the laws, monsieur; they cannot coin a conception of justice +for your people. They must enforce the precise rules of law that the +conception of justice in your country has established. + +"Nevertheless, monsieur"--and his thin yellow lips curled--"for the sake +of my depleted revenues I could have wished that the decision of this +court had been other than it was." + +"And what did it decide?" asked the American. + +"It decided, monsieur," replied the Count, "that my estates in Salerno +must continue to be charged with the gratuity to the indigent relative. + +"That is to say, monsieur, it decided, because the great pagan did not +wait to die in agony, did not wait for the mortal wounds inflicted by +the would-be assassin to kill him, that interesting person--the man in +the green hat--was not guilty of murder in the first degree and could +not be hanged!" + + +Note--See State versus Angelina; 80 Southeastern Reporter, 141: "The +intervening responsible agent who wrongfully accelerates death is guilty +of the murder, and not the one who inflicted the first injury, though in +itself mortal." + + + + +VI. The Wrong Sign + + +It was an ancient diary in a faded leather cover. The writing was fine +and delicate, and the ink yellow with age. Sir Henry Marquis turned the +pages slowly and with care for the paper was fragile. + +We had dined early at the Ritz and come in later to his great home in +St. James's Square. + +He wished to show me this old diary that had come to him from a branch +of his mother's family in Virginia--a branch that had gone out with a +King's grant when Virginia was a crown colony. The collateral ancestor, +Pendleton, had been a justice of the peace in Virginia, and a spinster +daughter had written down some of the strange cases with which her +father had been concerned. + +Sir Henry Marquis believed that these cases in their tragic details, and +their inspirational, deductive handling, equaled any of our modern time. +The great library overlooking St. James's Square, was curtained off from +London. Sir Henry read by the fire; and I listened, returned, as by some +recession of time to the Virginia of a vanished decade. The narrative of +the diary follows: + + +My father used to say that the Justice of God was sometimes swift and +terrible. He said we thought of it usually as remote and deliberate, a +sort of calm adjustment in some supernatural Court of Equity. But this +idea was far from the truth. He had seen the justice of God move on +the heels of a man with appalling swiftness; with a crushing force and +directness that simply staggered the human mind. I know the case he +thought about. + +Two men sat over a table when my father entered. One of them got up. He +was a strange human creature, when you stood and looked calmly at him. +You thought the Artificer had designed him for a priest of the church. +He had the massive features and the fringe of hair around his bald +head like a tonsure. At first, to your eye, it was the vestments of the +church, he lacked; then you saw that the lack was something fundamental; +something organic in the nature of the man. And as he held and +stimulated your attention you got a fearful idea, that the purpose for +which this human creature was shaped had been somehow artfully reversed! + +He was big boned and tall when he stood up. + +"Pendleton," he said, "I would have come to you, but for my guest." + +And he indicated the elegant young man at the table. + +"But I did not send you word to ride a dozen miles through the hills on +any trivial business, or out of courtesy to me. It is a matter of some +import, so I will pay ten eagles." + +My father looked steadily at the man. + +"I am not for hire," he said. + +My father was a justice of the peace in Virginia, under the English +system, by the theory of which the most substantial men in a county +undertook to keep the peace for the welfare of the State. Like +Washington in the service of the Colonial army, he took no pay. + +The big man laughed. + +"We are most of us for purchase, and all of us for hire," he said. "I +will make it twenty!" + +The young man at the table now interrupted. He was elegant in the +costume of the time, in imported linen and cloth from an English loom. +His hair was thick and black; his eyebrows straight, his body and his +face rich in the blood and the vitalities of youth. But sensuality was +on him like a shadow. The man was given over to a life of pleasure. + +"Mr. Pendleton," he said, with a patronizing pedantic air, "the +commonwealth is interested to see that litigation does not arise; and to +that end, I hope you will not refuse us the benefit of your experience. +We are about to draw up a deed of sale running into a considerable sum, +and we would have it court proof." + +He made a graceful gesture with his jeweled hand. + +"I would be secure in my purchase, and Zindorf in his eagles, and you, +Sir, in the knowledge that the State will not be vexed by any suit +between us. Every contract, I believe, upon some theory of the law, is +a triangular affair with the State a party. Let us say then, that you +represent Virginia!" + +"In the service of the commonwealth," replied my father coldly, "I am +always to be commanded." + +The man flicked a bit of dust from his immaculate coat sleeve. + +"It will be a conference of high powers. I shall represent Eros; Mr. +Pendleton, Virginia; and Zindorf" and he laughed--"his Imperial Master!" + +And to the eye the three men fitted to their legend. The Hellenic God +of pleasure in his sacred groves might have chosen for his disciple one +from Athens with a face and figure like this youth. My father bore +the severities of the law upon him. And I have written how strange a +creature the third party to this conference was. + +He now answered with an oath. + +"You have a very pretty wit, Mr. Lucian Morrow," he said. "I add to my +price a dozen eagles for it." + +The young man shrugged his shoulders in his English coat. + +"Smart money, eh, Zindorf... Well, it does not make me smart. It only +makes me remember that Count Augsburg educated you in Bavaria for the +Church and you fled away from it to be a slave trader in Virginia." + +He got on his feet, and my father saw that the man was in liquor. He +was not drunken, but the effect was on him with its daring and its +indiscretions. + +It was an April morning, bright with sun. The world was white with apple +blossoms, the soft air entered through the great open windows. And my +father thought that the liquor in the man had come with him out of a +night of bargaining or revel. + +Morrow put his hands on the table and looked at Zindorf; then, suddenly, +the laughter in his face gave way to the comprehension of a swift, +striking idea. + +"Why, man," he cried, "it's the devil's truth! Everything about you is a +negation! You ought to be a priest by all the lines and features of you; +but you're not... Scorch me, but you're not!" + +His voice went up on the final word as though to convey some impressive, +sinister discovery. + +It was true in every aspect of the man. The very clothes he wore, +somber, wool-threaded homespun, crudely patched, reminded one of the +coarse fabrics that monks affect for their abasement. But one saw, when +one remembered the characteristic of the man, that they represented here +only an extremity of avarice. + +Zindorf looked coldly at his guest. + +"Mr. Lucian Morrow," he said, "you will go on, and my price will go on!" + +But the young blood, on his feet, was not brought up by the monetary +threat. He looked about the room, at the ceiling, the thick walls. And, +like a man who by a sudden recollection confounds his adversary with an +overlooked illustrative fact, he suddenly cried out: + +"By the soul of Satan, you're housed to suit! Send me to the pit! It's +the very place for you! Eh! Zindorf, do you know who built the house you +live in?" + +"I do not, Mr. Lucian Morrow," said the man. "Who built it?" + +One could see that he wished to divert the discourses of his guest. He +failed. + +"God built it!" cried Morrow. + +He put out his hands as though to include the hose. + +"Pendleton," he said, "you will remember. The people built these walls +for a church. It burned, but the stone walls could not burn; they +remained overgrown with creeper. Then, finally, old Wellington Monroe +built a house into the walls for the young wife he was about to marry, +but he went to the coffin instead of the bride-bed, and the house +stood empty. It fell into the courts with the whole of Monroe's tangled +business and finally Zindorf gets it at a sheriff's sale." + +The big man now confronted the young blood with decision. + +"Mr. Lucian Morrow," he said, "if you are finished with your fool talk, +I will bid you good morning. I have decided not to sell the girl." + +The face of Morrow changed. His voice wheedled in an anxious note. + +"Not sell her, Zindorf!" he echoed. "Why man, you have promised her to +me all along. You always said I should have her in spite of your cursed +partner Ordez. You said you'd get her some day and sell her to me. +Now, curse it, Zindorf, I want her... I've got the money: ten thousand +dollars. It's a big lot of money. But I've got it. I've got it in gold." + +He went on: + +"Besides, Zindorf, you can have the money, it'll mean more to you. But +it's the girl I want." + +He stood up and in his anxiety the effect of the liquor faded out. + +"I've waited on your promise, Zindorf. You said that some day, when +Ordez was hard-pressed he would sell her for money, even if she was +his natural daughter. You were right; you knew Ordez. You have got an +assignment of all the slaves in possession, in the partnership, and +Ordez has cleared out of the country. I know what you paid for his +half-interest in this business, it's set out in the assignment. It was +three thousand dollars. + +"Think of it, man, three thousand dollars to Ordez for a wholesale, +omnibus assignment of everything. An elastic legal note of an assignment +that you can stretch to include this girl along with the half-dozen +other slaves that you have on hand here; and I offer you ten thousand +dollars for the girl alone!" + +One could see how the repetition of the sum in gold affected Zindorf. + +He had the love of money in that dominating control that the Apostle +spoke of. But the elegant young man was moved by a lure no less potent. +And his anxiety, for the time, suppressed the evidences of liquor. + +"I'll take the risk on the title, Zindorf. You and Ordez were partners +in this traffic. Ordez gives you a general assignment of all slaves on +hand for three thousand dollars and lights out of the country. He leaves +his daughter here among the others. And this general assignment can be +construed to include her. Her mother was a slave and that brings her +within the law. We know precisely who her mother was, and all about it. +You looked it up and my lawyer, Mr. Cable, looked it up. Her mother +was the octoroon woman, Suzanne, owned by old Judge Marquette in New +Orleans. + +"There may have been some sort of church marriage, but there's no legal +record, Cable says. + +"The woman belonged to Marquette, and under the law the girl is a slave. +You got a paper title out of Marquette's executors, privily, years +ago. Now you have this indefinite assignment by Ordez. He's gone to the +Spanish Islands, or the devil, or both. And if Mr. Pendleton can draw +a deed of sale that will stand in the courts between us, I'll take the +risk on the validity of my title." + +He paused. + +"The law's sound on slaves, Judge Madison has a dozen himself, not all +black either; not three-eighths black!" and he laughed. + +Then he turned to my father. + +"Mr. Pendleton," he said, "I persuaded Zindorf to send for you to draw +up this deed of sale. I have no confidence in the little practicing +tricksters at the county seat. They take a fee and, with premeditation, +write a word or phrase into the contract that leaves it open for a suit +at law." + +He made a courteous bow, accompanied by a dancing master's gesture. + +"I do not offend you with the offer of a fee, but I present my gratitude +for the conspicuous courtesy, and I indicate the service to the +commonwealth of legal papers in form and court proof. May I hope, Sir, +that you will not deny us the benefit of your highly distinguished +service." + +My father very slowly looked about him in calm reflection. + +He had ridden ten miles through the hills on this April morning, at +Zindorf's message sent the night before. The clay of the roads was still +damp and plastic from the recent rain. There were flecks of mud on him +and the splashing of the streams. + +He was a big, dominating man, in the hardened strength and experience +of middle life. He had come, as he believed, upon some service of the +state. And here was a thing for the little dexterities of a lawyer's +clerk. Everybody in Virginia, who knew my father, can realize how he was +apt to meet the vague message of Zindorf that got him in this house, and +the patronizing courtesies of Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +He was direct and virile, and while he feared God, like the great +figures in the Pentateuch, as though he were a judge of Israel enforcing +his decrees with the weapon of iron, I cannot write here, that at +any period of his life, or for any concern or reason, he very greatly +regarded man. + +He went over to the window and looked out at the hills and the road that +he had traveled. + +The mid-morning sun was on the fields and groves like a benediction. The +soft vitalizing air entered and took up the stench of liquor, the ash of +tobacco and the imported perfumes affected by Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +The windows in the room were long, gothic like a church, and turning +on a pivot. They ran into the ceiling that Monroe had built across the +gutted walls. The house stood on the crown of a hill, in a cluster of +oak trees. Below was the abandoned graveyard, the fence about it rotted +down; the stone slabs overgrown with moss. The four roads running into +the hills joined and crossed below this oak grove that the early people +had selected for a house of God. + +My father looked out on these roads and far back on the one that he had +traveled. + +There was no sound in the world, except the faint tolling of a bell in +a distant wood on the road. It was far off on the way to my father's +house, and the vague sound was to be heard only when a breath of wind +carried from that way. + +My father gathered his big chin, flat like a plowshare, into the trough +of his bronze hand. He stood for some moments in reflection, then he +turned to Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +"I think you are right," he said. "I think this is a triangular affair +with the state a party. I am in the service of the state. Will you +kindly put the table by this window." + +They thought he wished the air, and would thus escape the closeness of +the room. And while my father stood aside, Zindorf and his guest carried +the flat writing table to the window and placed a chair. + +My father sat down behind the table by the great open window, and looked +at Zindorf. + +The man moved and acted like a monk. He had the figure and the tonsured +head. His coarse, patched clothes cut like the homely garments of the +simple people of the day, were not wholly out of keeping to the part. +The idea was visualized about him; the simplicity and the poverty of the +great monastic orders in their vast, noble humility. All striking and +real until one saw his face! + +My father used to say that the great orders of God were correct in this +humility; for in its vast, comprehensive action, the justice of God +moved in a great plain, where every indicatory event was precisely +equal; a straw was a weaver's beam. + +God hailed men to ruin in his court, not with spectacular devices, but +by means of some homely, common thing, as though to abase and overcome +our pride. + +My father moved the sheets of foolscap, and tested the point of the +quill pen like one who considers with deliberation. He dipped the point +into the inkpot and slowly wrote a dozen formal words. + +Then he stopped and put down the pen. + +"The contests of the courts," he said, "are usually on the question of +identity. I ought to see this slave for a correct description." + +The two men seemed for a moment uncertain what to do. + +Then Zindorf addressed my father. + +"Pendleton," he said, "the fortunes of life change, and the ideas suited +to one status are ridiculous in another. Ordez was a fool. He made +believe to this girl a future that he never intended, and she is under +the glamor of these fancies." + +He stood in the posture of a monk, and he spoke each word with a clear +enunciation. + +"It is a very delicate affair, to bring this girl out of the +extravagances with which Ordez filled her idle head, and not be brutal +in it. We must conduct the thing with tact, and we will ask you, +Pendleton, to observe the courtesies of our pretension." + +When he had finished, he flung a door open and went down a stairway. For +a time my father heard his footsteps, echoing, like those of a priest +in the under chambers of a chapel. Then he ascended, and my father was +astonished. + +He came with a young girl on his arm, as in the ceremony of marriage +sometimes the priest emerges with the bride. The girl was young and of a +Spanish beauty. She was all in white with blossoms in her hair. And +she was radiant, my father said, as in the glory of some happy +contemplation. There was no slave like this on the block in Virginia. +Young girls like this, my father had seen in Havana in the houses of +Spanish Grandees. + +"This is Mr. Pendleton, our neighbor," Zindorf said. "He comes to offer +you his felicitations." + +The girl made a little formal curtsy. + +"When my father returns," she said in a queer, liquid accent, "he will +thank you, Meester Pendleton; just now he is on a journey." + +And she gave her hand to Lucian Morrow to kiss, like a lady of the time. +Then Zindorf, mincing his big step, led her out. + +And my father stood behind the table in the enclosure of the window, +with his arms folded, and his chin lifted above his great black stock. +I know how my father looked, for I have seen him stand like that before +moving factors in great events, when he intended, at a certain cue, to +enter. + +He said that it was at this point that Mr. Lucian Morrow's early comment +on Zindorf seemed, all at once, to discover the nature of this whole +affair. He said that suddenly, with a range of vision like the great +figures in the Pentateuch, he saw how things right and true would work +out backward into abominations, if, by any chance, the virtue of God in +events were displaced! + +Zindorf returned, and as he stepped through the door, closing it +behind him, the far-off tolling of the bell, faint, eerie, carried by +a stronger breath of April air, entered through the window. My father +extended his arm toward the distant wood. + +"Zindorf," he said, "do you mark the sign?" The man listened. + +"What sign?" he said. + +"The sign of death!" replied my father. + +The man made a deprecating gesture with his hands, "I do not believe in +signs," he said. + +My father replied like one corrected by a memory. + +"Why, yes," he said, "that is true. I should have remembered that. You +do not believe in signs, Zindorf, since you abandoned the sign of the +cross, and set these coarse patches on your knees to remind you not to +bend them in the sign of submission to the King of Kings." + +The intent in the mended clothing was the economy of avarice, but my +father turned it to his use. + +The man's face clouded with anger. + +"What I believe," he said, "is neither the concern of you nor another." + +He paused with an oath. + +"Whatever you may believe, Zindorf," replied my father, "the sound of +that bell is unquestionably a sign of death." He pointed toward the +distant wood. "In the edge of the forest yonder is the ancient church +that the people built to replace the burned one here. It has been long +abandoned, but in its graveyard lie a few old families. And now and +then, when an old man dies, they bring him back to put him with his +fathers. This morning, as I came along, they were digging the grave for +old Adam Duncan, and the bell tolls for him. So you see," and he looked +Zindorf in the face, "a belief in signs is justified." + +Again the big man made his gesture as of one putting something of no +importance out of the way. + +"Believe what you like," he said, "I am not concerned with signs." + +"Why, yes, Zindorf," replied my father, "of all men you are the very +one most concerned about them. You must be careful not to use the wrong +ones." + +It was a moment of peculiar tension. + +The room was flooded with sun. The tiny creatures of the air droned +outside. Everywhere was peace and the gentle benevolence of peace. But +within this room, split off from the great chamber of a church, events +covert and sinister seemed preparing to assemble. + +My father, big and dominant, was behind the table, his great shoulders +blotting out the window. + +Mr. Lucian Morrow sat doubled in a chair, and Zindorf stood with the +closed door behind him. + +"You see, Zindorf," he said, "each master has his set of signs. Most of +us have learned the signs of one master only. But you have learned the +signs of both. And you must be careful not to bring the signs of your +first master into the service of your last one." + +The big man did not move, he stood with the door closed behind him, and +studied my father's face like one who feels the presence of a danger +that he cannot locate. + +"What do you mean?" he said. + +"I mean," replied my father, "I mean, Zindorf, that each master has a +certain intent in events, and this intent is indicated by his set of +signs. Now the great purpose of these two masters, we believe, in all +the moving of events, is directly opposed. Thus, when we use a sign +of one of these masters, we express by the symbol of it the hope that +events will take the direction of his established purpose. + +"Don't you see then... don't you see, that we dare not use the signs of +one in the service of the other?" + +"Pendleton," said the man, "I do not understand you." + +He spoke slowly and precisely, like one moving with an excess of care. + +My father went on, his voice strong and level, his eyes on Zindorf. + +"The thing is a great mystery," he said. "It is not clear to any of us +in its causes or its relations. But old legends and old beliefs, running +down from the very morning of the world, tell us--warn us, Zindorf--that +the signs of each of these masters are abhorrent to the other. Neither +will tolerate the use of his adversary's sign. Moreover, Zindorf, there +is a double peril in it." + +And his voice rose. + +"There is the peril that the new master will abandon the blunderer for +the insult, and there is the peril that the old one will destroy him for +the sacrilege!" + +At this moment the door behind Zindorf opened, and the young girl +entered. She was excited and her eyes danced. + +"Oh!" she said, "people are coming on every road!" + +She looked, my father said, like a painted picture, her dark Castilian +beauty illumined by the pleasure in her interpretation of events. She +thought the countryside assembled after the manner of my father to +express its felicitations. + +Zindorf crossed in great strides to the window: Mr. Lucian Morrow, sober +and overwhelmed by the mystery of events about him, got unsteadily on +his feet, holding with both hands to the oak back of a chair. + +My father said that the tragedy of the thing was on him, and he acted +under the pressure of it. + +"My child," he said, "you are to go to the house of your grandfather in +Havana. If Mr. Lucian Morrow wishes to renew his suit for your hand in +marriage, he will do it there. Go now and make your preparations for the +journey." + +The girl cried out in pleasure at the words. + +"My grandfather is a great person in New Spain. I have always longed to +see him... father promised... and now I am to go ... when do we set out, +Meester Pendleton?" + +"At once," replied my father, "to-day." Then he crossed the room and +opened the door for her to go out. He held the latch until the girl was +down the stairway. Then he closed the door. + +The big man, falsely in his aspect, like a monk, looking out at the +far-off figures on the distant roads, now turned about. + +"A clever ruse, Pendleton," he said, "We can send her now, on this +pretended journey, to Morrow's house, after the sale." + +My father went over and sat down at the table. He took a faded silk +envelope out of his, coat, and laid it down before him. Then he answered +Zindorf. + +"There will be no sale," he said. + +Mr. Lucian Morrow interrupted. + +"And why no sale, Sir?" + +"Because there is no slave to sell," replied my father. "This girl is +not the daughter of the octoroon woman, Suzanne." + +Zindorf's big jaws tightened. + +"How did you know that?" he said. + +My father answered with deliberation. + +"I would have known it," he said, "from the wording of the paper you +exhibit from Marquette's executors. It is merely a release of any claim +or color of title; the sort of legal paper one executes when one gives +up a right or claim that one has no faith in. Marquette's executors were +the ablest lawyers in New Orleans. They were not the men to sign away +valuable property in a conveyance like that; that they did sign such a +paper is conclusive evidence to me that they had nothing--and knew they +had nothing--to release by it." He paused. + +"I know it also," he said, "because I have before me here the girl's +certificate of birth and Ordez's certificate of marriage." + +He opened the silk envelope and took out some faded papers. He unfolded +them and spread them out under his hand. + +"I think Ordez feared for his child," he said, "and stored these papers +against the day of danger to her, because they are copies taken from the +records in Havana." + +He looked up at the astonished Morrow. + +"Ordez married the daughter of Pedro de Hernando. I find, by a note +to these papers, that she is dead. I conclude that this great Spanish +family objected to the adventurer, and he fled with his infant daughter +to New Orleans." he paused. + +"The intrigue with the octoroon woman, Suzanne, came after that." + +Then he added: + +"You must renew your negotiations, Sir, in, a somewhat different manner +before a Spanish Grandee in Havana!" + +Mr. Lucian Morrow did not reply. He stood in a sort of wonder. But +Zindorf, his face like iron, addressed my father: + +"Where did you get these papers, Pendleton?" he said. + +"I got them from Ordez," replied my father. + +"When did you see Ordez?" + +"I saw him to-day," replied my father. + +Zindorf did not move, but his big jaw worked and a faint spray of +moisture came out on his face. Then, finally, with no change or quaver +in his voice, he put his query. + +"Where is Ordez?" + +"Where?" echoed my father, and he rose. "Why, Zindorf, he is on his +way here." And he extended his arm toward the open window. The big man +lifted his head and looked out at the men and horses now clearly visible +on the distant road. + +"Who are these people," he said, "and why do they come?" He spoke as +though he addressed some present but invisible authority. + +My father answered him + +"They are the people of Virginia," he said, "and they come, Zindorf, in +the purpose of events that you have turned terribly backward!" + +The man was in some desperate perplexity, but he had steel nerves and +the devil's courage. + +He looked my father calmly in the face. + +"What does all this mean?" he said. + +"It means, Zindorf," cried my father, "it means that the very things, +the very particular things, that you ought to have used for the glory of +God, God has used for your damnation!" + +And again, in the clear April air, there entered through the open window +the faint tolling of a bell. + +"Listen, Zindorf! I will tell you. In the old abandoned church yonder, +when they came to toll the bell for Duncan, the rope fell to pieces; I +came along then, and Jacob Lance climbed into the steeple to toll the +bell by hand. At the first crash of sound a wolf ran out of a thicket +in the ravine below him, and fled away toward the mountains. Lance, from +his elevated point, could see the wolf's muzzle was bloody. That would +mean, that a lost horse had been killed or an estray steer. He called +down and we went in to see what thing this scavenger had got hold of." + +He paused. + +"In the cut of an abandoned road we found the body of Ordez riddled with +buckshot, and his pockets rifled. But sewed up in his coat was the silk +envelope with these papers. I took possession of them as a Justice of +the Peace, ordered the body sent on here, and the people to assemble." + +He extended his arm toward the faint, quivering, distant sound. + +"Listen, Zindorf," he cried; "the bell began to toll for Duncan, but +it tolls now for the murderer of Ordez. It tolls to raise the country +against the assassin!" + +The false monk had the courage of his master. He stood out and faced my +father. + +"But can you find him, Pendleton," he said. And his harsh voice was +firm. "You find Ordez dead; well, some assassin shot him and carried his +body into the cut of the abandoned road. But who was that assassin? Is +Virginia scant of murderers? Do you know the right one?" + +My father answered in his great dominating voice + +"God knows him, Zindorf, and I know him!... The man who murdered Ordez +made a fatal blunder... He used a sign of God in the service of the +devil and he is ruined!" + +The big man stepped slowly backward into the room, while my father's +voice, filling the big empty spaces of the house, followed after him. + +"You are lost, Zindorf! Satan is insulted, and God is outraged! You are +lost!" + +There was a moment's silence; from outside came the sound of men and +horses. The notes of the girl, light, happy, ascended from the lower +chamber, as she sang about her preparations for the journey. Zindorf +continued to step awfully backward. And Lucian Morrow, shaken and sober, +cried out in the extremity of fear: + +"In God's name, Pendleton, what do you mean; Zindorf, using a sign of +God in the service of the devil." + +And my father answered him: + +"The corpse of Ordez lay in the bare cut of the abandoned road, and +beside it, bedded in the damp clay where he had knelt down to rifle the +pockets of the murdered body, were the patch prints of Zindorf's knees!" + + + + + +VII. The Fortune Teller + + +Sir Henry Marquis continued to read; he made no comment; his voice clear +and even. + + +It was a big sunny room. The long windows looked out on a formal garden, +great beech trees and the bow of the river. Within it was a sort of +library. There were bookcases built into the wall, to the height of a +man's head, and at intervals between them, rising from the floor to the +cornice of the shelves, were rows of mahogany drawers with glass knobs. +There was also a flat writing table. + +It was the room of a traveler, a man of letters, a dreamer. On the +table were an inkpot of carved jade, a paperknife of ivory with gold +butterflies set in; three bronze storks, with their backs together, held +an exquisite Japanese crystal. + +The room was in disorder--the drawers pulled out and the contents +ransacked. + +My father stood leaning against the casement of the window, looking out. +The lawyer, Mr. Lewis, sat in a chair beside the table, his eyes on the +violated room. + +"Pendleton," he said, "I don't like this English man Gosford." + +The words seemed to arouse my father out of the depths of some +reflection, and he turned to the lawyer, Mr. Lewis. + +"Gosford!" he echoed. + +"He is behind this business, Pendleton," the lawyer, Mr. Lewis, went on. +"Mark my word! He comes here when Marshall is dying; he forces his way +to the man's bed; he puts the servants out; he locks the door. Now, +what business had this Englishman with Marshall on his deathbed? What +business of a secrecy so close that Marshall's son is barred out by a +locked door?" + +He paused and twisted the seal ring on his finger. + +"When you and I came to visit the sick man, Gosford was always here, as +though he kept a watch upon us, and when we left, he went always to this +room to write his letters, as he said. + +"And more than this, Pendleton; Marshall is hardly in his grave before +Gosford writes me to inquire by what legal process the dead man's papers +may be examined for a will. And it is Gosford who sends a negro riding, +as if the devil were on the crupper, to summon me in the name of the +Commonwealth of Virginia,--to appear and examine into the circumstances +of this burglary. + +"I mistrust the man. He used to hang about Marshall in his life, upon +some enterprise of secrecy; and now he takes possession and leadership +in his affairs, and sets the man's son aside. In what right, Pendleton, +does this adventurous Englishman feel himself secure?" + +My father did not reply to Lewis's discourse. His comment was in another +quarter. + +"Here is young Marshall and Gaeki," he said. + +The lawyer rose and came over to the window. + +Two persons were advancing from the direction of the stables--a tall, +delicate boy, and a strange old man. The old man walked with a quick, +jerky, stride. It was the old country doctor Gaeki. And, unlike any +other man of his profession, he would work as long and as carefully on +the body of a horse as he would on the body of a man, snapping out his +quaint oaths, and in a stress of effort, as though he struggled with +some invisible creature for its prey. The negroes used to say that the +devil was afraid of Gaeki, and he might have been, if to disable a man +or his horse were the devil's will. But I think, rather, the negroes +imagined the devil to fear what they feared themselves. + +"Now, what could bring Gaeki here?" said Lewes. + +"It was the horse that Gosford overheated in his race to you," replied +my father. "I saw him stop in the road where the negro boy was leading +the horse about, and then call young Marshall." + +"It was no fault of young Marshall, Pendleton," said the lawyer. "But, +also, he is no match for Gosford. He is a dilettante. He paints little +pictures after the fashion he learned in Paris, and he has no force or +vigor in him. His father was a dreamer, a wanderer, one who loved the +world and its frivolities, and the son takes that temperament, softened +by his mother. He ought to have a guardian." + +"He has one," replied my father. + +"A guardian!" repeated Lewis. "What court has appointed a guardian for +young Marshall?" + +"A court," replied my father, "that does not sit under the authority of +Virginia. The helpless, Lewis, in their youth and inexperience, are not +wholly given over to the spoiler." + +The boy they talked about was very young--under twenty, one would say. +He was blue-eyed and fair-haired, with thin, delicate features, which +showed good blood long inbred to the loss of vigor. He had the fine, +open, generous face of one who takes the world as in a fairy story. But +now there was care and anxiety in it, and a furtive shadow, as though +the lad's dream of life had got some rude awakening. + +At this moment the door behind my father and Lewis was thrown violently +open, and a man entered. He was a person with the manner of a barrister, +precise and dapper; he had a long, pink face, pale eyes, and a +close-cropped beard that brought out the hard lines of his mouth. He +bustled to the table, put down a sort of portfolio that held an inkpot, +a writing-pad and pens, and drew up a chair like one about to take the +minutes of a meeting. And all the while he apologized for his delay. +He had important letters to get off in the post, and to make sure, had +carried them to the tavern himself. + +"And now, sirs, let us get about this business," he finished, like one +who calls his assistants to a labor: + +My father turned about and looked at the man. + +"Is your name Gosford?" he said in his cold, level voice. + +"It is, sir," replied the Englishman, "--Anthony Gosford." + +"Well, Mr. Anthony Gosford," replied my father, "kindly close the door +that you have opened." + +Lewis plucked out his snuffbox and trumpeted in his many-colored +handkerchief to hide his laughter. + +The Englishman, thrown off his patronizing manner, hesitated, closed the +door as he was bidden--and could not regain his fine air. + +"Now, Mr. Gosford," my father went on, "why was this room violated as we +see it?" + +"It was searched for Peyton Marshall's will, sir," replied the man. + +"How did you know that Marshall had a will?" said my father. + +"I saw him write it," returned the Englishman, "here in this very room, +on the eighteenth day of October, 1854." + +"That was two years ago," said my father. "Was the will here at +Marshall's death?" + +"It was. He told me on his deathbed." + +"And it is gone now?" + +"It is," replied the Englishman. + +"And now, Mr. Gosford," said my father, "how do you know this will is +gone unless you also know precisely where it was?" + +"I do know precisely where it was, sir," returned the man. "It was +in the row of drawers on the right of the window where you stand--the +second drawer from the top. Mr. Marshall put it there when he wrote it, +and he told me on his deathbed that it remained there. You can see, sir, +that the drawer has been rifled." + +My father looked casually at the row of mahogany drawers rising along +the end of the bookcase. The second one and the one above were open; the +others below were closed. + +"Mr. Gosford," he said, "you would have some interest in this will, to +know about it so precisely." + +"And so I have," replied the man, "it left me a sum of money." + +"A large sum?" + +"A very large sum, sir." + +"Mr. Anthony Gosford," said my father, "for what purpose did Peyton +Marshall bequeath you a large sum of money? You are no kin; nor was he +in your debt." + +The Englishman sat down and put his fingers together with a judicial +air. + +"Sir," he began, "I am not advised that the purpose of a bequest is +relevant, when the bequest is direct and unencumbered by the testator +with any indicatory words of trust or uses. This will bequeathes me a +sum of money. I am not required by any provision of the law to show the +reasons moving the testator. Doubtless, Mr. Peyton Marshall had reasons +which he deemed excellent for this course, but they are, sir, entombed +in the grave with him." + +My father looked steadily at the man, but he did not seem to consider +his explanation, nor to go any further on that line. + +"Is there another who would know about this will?" he said. + +"This effeminate son would know," replied Gosford, a sneer in the +epithet, "but no other. Marshall wrote the testament in his own hand, +without witnesses, as he had the legal right to do under the laws of +Virginia. The lawyer," he added, "Mr. Lewis, will confirm me in the +legality of that." + +"It is the law," said Lewis. "One may draw up a holograph will if he +likes, in his own hand, and it is valid without a witness in this State, +although the law does not so run in every commonwealth." + +"And now, sir," continued the Englishman, turning to my father, "we will +inquire into the theft of this testament." + +But my father did not appear to notice Mr. Gosford. He seemed perplexed +and in some concern. + +"Lewis," he said, "what is your definition of a crime?" + +"It is a violation of the law," replied the lawyer. + +"I do not accept your definition," said my father. "It is, rather, I +think, a violation of justice--a violation of something behind the law +that makes an act a crime. I think," he went on, "that God must take a +broader view than Mr. Blackstone and Lord Coke. I have seen a murder +in the law that was, in fact, only a kind of awful accident, and I have +seen your catalogue of crimes gone about by feeble men with no intent +except an adjustment of their rights. Their crimes, Lewis, were merely +errors of their impractical judgment." + +Then he seemed to remember that the Englishman was present. + +"And now, Mr. Gosford," he said, "will you kindly ask young Marshall to +come in here?" + +The man would have refused, with some rejoinder, but my father was +looking at him, and he could not find the courage to resist my father's +will. He got up and went out, and presently returned followed by the lad +and Gaeki. The old country doctor sat down by the door, his leather +case of bottles by the chair, his cloak still fastened under his chin. +Gosford went back to the table and sat down with his writing materials +to keep notes. The boy stood. + +My father looked a long time at the lad. His face was grave, but when he +spoke, his voice was gentle. + +"My boy," he said, "I have had a good deal of experience in the +examination of the devil's work." He paused and indicated the violated +room. "It is often excellently done. His disciples are extremely clever. +One's ingenuity is often taxed to trace out the evil design in it, and +to stamp it as a false piece set into the natural sequence of events." + +He paused again, and his big shoulders blotted out the window. + +"Every natural event," he continued, "is intimately connected with +innumerable events that precede and follow. It has so many serrated +points of contact with other events that the human mind is not able to +fit a false event so that no trace of the joinder will appear. The most +skilled workmen in the devil's shop are only able to give their false +piece a blurred joinder." + +He stopped and turned to the row of mahogany drawers beside him. + +"Now, my boy," he said, "can you tell me why the one who ransacked this +room, in opening and tumbling the contents of all the drawers, about, +did not open the two at the bottom of the row where I stand?" + +"Because there was nothing in them of value, sir," replied the lad. + +"What is in them?" said my father. + +"Only old letters, sir, written to my father, when I was in +Paris--nothing else." + +"And who would know that?" said my father. + +The boy went suddenly white. + +"Precisely!" said my father. "You alone knew it, and when you +undertook to give this library the appearance of a pillaged room, you +unconsciously endowed your imaginary robber with the thing you knew +yourself. Why search for loot in drawers that contained only old +letters? So your imaginary robber reasoned, knowing what you knew. But a +real robber, having no such knowledge, would have ransacked them lest he +miss the things of value that he searched for." + +He paused, his eyes on the lad, his voice deep and gentle. + +"Where is the will?" he said. + +The white in the boy's face changed to scarlet. He looked a moment +about him in a sort of terror; then he lifted his head and put back his +shoulders. He crossed the room to a bookcase, took down a volume, opened +it and brought out a sheet of folded foolscap. He stood up and faced my +father and the men about the room. + +"This man," he said, indicating Gosford, "has no right to take all my +father had. He persuaded my father and was trusted by him. But I did not +trust him. My father saw this plan in a light that I did not see it, +but I did not oppose him. If he wished to use his fortune to help our +country in the thing which he thought he foresaw, I was willing for him +to do it. + +"But," he cried, "somebody deceived me, and I will not believe that it +was my father. He told me all about this thing. I had not the health +to fight for our country, when the time came, he said, and as he had +no other son, our fortune must go to that purpose in our stead. But my +father was just. He said that a portion would be set aside for me, and +the remainder turned over to Mr. Gosford. But this will gives all to Mr. +Gosford and leaves me nothing!" + +Then he came forward and put the paper in my father's hand. There was +silence except for the sharp voice of Mr. Gosford. + +"I think there will be a criminal proceeding here!" + +My father handed the paper to Lewis, who unfolded it and read it aloud. +It directed the estate of Peyton Marshall to be sold, the sum of fifty +thousand dollars paid to Anthony Gosford and the remainder to the son. + +"But there will be no remainder," cried young Marshall. "My father's +estate is worth precisely that sum. He valued it very carefully, item by +item, and that is exactly the amount it came to." + +"Nevertheless," said Lewis, "the will reads that way. It is in legal +form, written in Marshall's hand, and signed with his signature, and +sealed. Will you examine it, gentlemen? There can be no question of the +writing or the signature." + +My father took the paper and read it slowly, and old Gaeki nosed it over +my father's arm, his eyes searching the structure of each word, while +Mr. Gosford sat back comfortably in his chair like one elevated to a +victory. + +"It is in Marshall's hand and signature," said my father, and old Gaeki, +nodded, wrinkling his face under his shaggy eyebrows. He went away still +wagging his grizzled head, wrote a memorandum on an envelope from his +pocket, and sat down in, his chair. + +My father turned now to young Marshall. + +"My boy," he said, "why do you say that some one has deceived you?" + +"Because, sir," replied the lad, "my father was to leave me twenty +thousand dollars. That was his plan. Thirty thousand dollars should be +set aside for Mr. Gosford, and the remainder turned over to me." + +"That would be thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, instead of +fifty," said my father. + +"Yes, sir," replied the boy; "that is the way my father said he would +write his will. But it was not written that way. It is fifty thousand +dollars to Mr. Gosford, and the remainder to me. If it were thirty +thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, as my father, said his will would be, +that would have left me twenty thousand dollars from the estate; but +giving Mr. Gosford fifty thousand dollars leaves me nothing." + +"And so you adventured on a little larceny," sneered the Englishman. + +The boy stood very straight and white. + +"I do not understand this thing," he said, "but I do not believe that my +father would deceive me. He never did deceive me in his life. I may have +been a disappointment to him, but my father was a gentle man." His voice +went up strong and clear. "And I refuse to believe that he would tell me +one thing and do another!" + +One could not fail to be impressed, or to believe that the boy spoke the +truth. + +"We are sorry," said Lewis, "but the will is valid and we cannot go +behind it." + +My father walked about the room, his face in reflection. Gosford sat at +his ease, transcribing a note on his portfolio. Old Gaeki had gone back +to his chair and to his little case of bottles; he got them up on his +knees, as though he would be diverted by fingering the tools of his +profession. Lewis was in plain distress, for he held the law and its +disposition to be inviolable; the boy stood with a find defiance, +ennobled by the trust in his father's honor. One could not take his +stratagem for a criminal act; he was only a child, for all his twenty +years of life. And yet Lewis saw the elements of crime, and he knew that +Gosford was writing down the evidence. + +It was my father who broke the silence. + +"Gosford," he said, "what scheme were you and Marshall about?" + +"You may wonder, sir," replied the Englishman, continuing to write at +his notes; "I shall not tell you." + +"But I will tell you," said the boy. "My father thought that the states +in this republic could not hold together very much longer. He believed +that the country would divide, and the South set up a separate +government. He hoped this might come about without a war. He was in +horror of a war. He had traveled; he had seen nations and read their +history, and he knew what civil wars were. I have heard him say that men +did not realize what they were talking when they urged war." + +He paused and looked at Gosford. + +"My father was convinced that the South would finally set up an +independent government, but he hoped a war might not follow. He believed +that if this new government were immediately recognized by Great +Britain, the North would accept the inevitable and there would be +no bloodshed. My father went to England with this scheme. He met Mr. +Gosford somewhere--on the ship, I think. And Mr. Gosford succeeded in +convincing my father that if he had a sum of money he could win over +certain powerful persons in the English Government, and so pave the way +to an immediate recognition of the Southern Republic by Great Britain. +He followed my father home and hung about him, and so finally got +his will. My father was careful; he wrote nothing; Mr. Gosford wrote +nothing; there is no evidence of this plan; but my father told me, and +it is true." + +My father stopped by the table and lifted his great shoulders. + +"And so," he said, "Peyton Marshall imagined a plan like that, and left +its execution to a Mr. Gosford!" + +The Englishman put down his pen and addressed my father. + +"I would advise you, sir, to require a little proof for your +conclusions. This is a very pretty story, but it is prefaced by an +admission of no evidence, and it comes as a special pleading for a +criminal act. Now, sir, if I chose, if the bequest required it, I could +give a further explanation, with more substance; of moneys borrowed by +the decedent in his travels and to be returned to me. But the will, sir, +stands for itself, as Mr. Lewis will assure you." + +Young Marshall looked anxiously at the lawyer. + +"Is that the law, sir?" + +"It is the law of Virginia," said Lewis, "that a will by a competent +testator, drawn in form, requires no collateral explanation to support +it." + +My father seemed brought up in a cul-de-sac. His face was tense and +disturbed. He stood by the table; and now, as by accident, he put out +his hand and took up the Japanese crystal supported by the necks of the +three bronze storks. He appeared unconscious of the act, for he was +in deep reflection. Then, as though the weight in his hand drew his +attention, he glanced at the thing. Something about it struck him, for +his manner changed. He spread the will out on the table and began to +move the crystal over it, his face close to the glass. Presently his +hand stopped, and he stood stooped over, staring into the Oriental +crystal, like those practicers of black art who predict events from what +they pretend to see in these spheres of glass. + +Mr. Gosford, sitting at his ease, in victory, regarded my father with a +supercilious, ironical smile. + +"Sir," he said, "are you, by chance, a fortuneteller?" + +"A misfortune-teller," replied my father, his face still held above the +crystal. "I see here a misfortune to Mr. Anthony Gosford. I predict, +from what I see, that he will release this bequest of moneys to Peyton +Marshall's son." + +"Your prediction, sir," said Gosford, in a harder note, "is not likely +to come true." + +"Why, yes," replied my father, "it is certain to come true. I see it +very clearly. Mr. Gosford will write out a release, under his hand and +seal, and go quietly out of Virginia, and Peyton Marshall's son will +take his entire estate." + +"Sir," said the Englishman, now provoked into a temper, "do you enjoy +this foolery?" + +"You are not interested in crystal-gazing, Mr. Gosford," replied my +father in a tranquil voice. "Well, I find it most diverting. Permit me +to piece out your fortune, or rather your misfortune, Mr. Gosford! +By chance you fell in with this dreamer Marshall, wormed into his +confidence, pretended a relation to great men in England; followed and +persuaded him until, in his ill-health, you got this will. You saw it +written two years ago. When Marshall fell ill, you hurried here, learned +from the dying man that the will remained and where it was. You +made sure by pretending to write letters in this room, bringing your +portfolio with ink and pen and a pad of paper. Then, at Marshall's +death, you inquired of Lewis for legal measures to discover the dead +man's will. And when you find the room ransacked, you run after the +law." + +My father paused. + +"That is your past, Mr. Gosford. Now let me tell your future. I see you +in joy at the recovered will. I see you pleased at your foresight in +getting a direct bequest, and at the care you urged on Marshall to leave +no evidence of his plan, lest the authorities discover it. For I see, +Mr. Gosford, that it was your intention all along to keep this sum of +money for your own use and pleasure. But alas, Mr. Gosford, it was not +to be! I see you writing this release; and Mr. Gosford"--my father's +voice went up full and strong,--"I see you writing it in terror--sweat +on your face!" + +"The Devil take your nonsense!" cried the Englishman. + +My father stood up with a twisted, ironical smile. + +"If you doubt my skill, Mr. Gosford, as a fortune, or rather a +misfortune-teller I will ask Mr. Lewis and Herman Gaeki to tell me what +they see." + +The two men crossed the room and stooped over the paper, while my father +held the crystal. The manner and the bearing of the men changed. They +grew on the instant tense and fired with interest. + +"I see it!" said the old doctor, with a queer foreign expletive. + +"And I," cried Lewis, "see something more than Pendleton's vision. I see +the penitentiary in the distance." + +The Englishman sprang up with an oath and leaned across the table. Then +he saw the thing. + +My father's hand held the crystal above the figures of the bequest +written in the body of the will. The focused lens of glass magnified +to a great diameter, and under the vast enlargement a thing that would +escape the eye stood out. The top curl of a figure 3 had been erased, +and the bar of a 5 added. One could see the broken fibers of the paper +on the outline of the curl, and the bar of the five lay across the top +of the three and the top of the o behind it like a black lath tacked +across two uprights. + +The figure 3 had been changed to 5 so cunningly is to deceive the eye, +but not to deceive the vast magnification of the crystal. The thing +stood out big and crude like a carpenter's patch. + +Gosford's face became expressionless like wood, his body rigid; then he +stood up and faced the three men across the table. + +"Quite so!" he said in his vacuous English voice. "Marshall wrote a 3 +by inadvertence and changed it. He borrowed my penknife to erase the +figure." + +My father and Lewis gaped like men who see a penned-in beast slip out +through an unimagined passage. There was silence. Then suddenly, in the +strained stillness of the room, old Doctor Gaeki laughed. + +Gosford lifted his long pink face, with its cropped beard bringing out +the ugly mouth. + +"Why do you laugh, my good man?" he said. + +"I laugh," replied Gaeki, "because a figure 5 can have so many colors." + +And now my father and Lewis were no less astonished than Mr. Gosford. + +"Colors!" they said, for the changed figure in the will was black. + +"Why, yes," replied the old man, "it is very pretty." + +He reached across the table and drew over Mr. Gosford's memorandum +beside the will. + +"You are progressive, sir," he went on; "you write in iron-nutgall ink, +just made, commercially, in this year of fifty-six by Mr. Stephens. But +we write here as Marshall wrote in 'fifty-four, with logwood." + +He turned and fumbled in his little case of bottles. + +"I carry a bit of acid for my people's indigestions. It has other uses." +He whipped out the stopper of his vial and dabbed Gosford's notes and +Marshall's signature. + +"See!" he cried. "Your writing is blue, Mr. Gosford, and Marshall's +red!" + +With an oath the trapped man struck at Gaeki's hand. The vial fell and +cracked on the table. The hydrochloric acid spread out over Marshall's +will. And under the chemical reagent the figure in the bequest of fifty +thousand dollars changed beautifully; the bar of the 5 turned blue, and +the remainder of it a deep purple-red like the body of the will. + +"Gaeki," cried my father, "you have trapped a rogue!" + +"And I have lost a measure of good acid," replied the old man. And he +began to gather up the bits of his broken bottle from the table. + + + + +VIII. The Hole in the Mahogany Panel + + +Sir Henry paused a moment, his finger between the pages of the ancient +diary. + +"It is the inspirational quality in these cases," he said, "that +impresses me. It is very nearly absent in our modern methods of criminal +investigation. We depend now on a certain formal routine. I rarely find +a man in the whole of Scotland Yard with a trace of intuitive impulse to +lead him.... Observe how this old justice in Virginia bridged the gaps +between his incidents." + +He paused. + +"We call it the inspirational instinct, in criminal investigation ... +genius, is the right word." + +He looked up at the clock. + +"We have an hour, yet, before the opera will be worth hearing; listen to +this final case." + +The narrative of the diary follows: + +The girl was walking in the road. Her frock was covered with dust. Her +arms hung limp. Her face with the great eyes and the exquisite mouth +was the chalk face of a ghost. She walked with the terrible stiffened +celerity of a human creature when it is trapped and ruined. + +Night was coming on. Behind the girl sat the great old house at the end +of a long lane of ancient poplars. + +This was a strange scene my father came on. He pulled up his big +red-roan horse at the crossroads, where the long lane entered the +turnpike, and looked at the stiff, tragic figure. He rode home from +a sitting of the county justices, alone, at peace, on this midsummer +night, and God sent this tragic thing to meet him. + +He got down and stood under the crossroads signboard beside his horse. + +The earth was dry; in dust. The dead grass and the dead leaves made +a sere, yellow world. It looked like a land of unending summer, but a +breath of chill came out of the hollows with the sunset. + +The girl would have gone on, oblivious. But my father went down into the +road and took her by the arm. She stopped when she saw who it was, and +spoke in the dead, uninflected voice of a person in extremity. + +"Is the thing a lie?" she said. + +"What thing, child?" replied my father. + +"The thing he told me!" + +"Dillworth?" said my father. "Do you mean Hambleton Dillworth?" + +The girl put out her free arm in a stiff, circling gesture. "In all the +world," she said, "is there any other man who would have told me?" + +My father's face hardened as if of metal. "What did he tell you?" + +The girl spoke plainly, frankly, in her dead voice, without +equivocation, with no choice of words to soften what she said: + +"He said that my father was not dead; that I was the daughter of a +thief; that what I believed about my father was all made up to save the +family name; that the truth was my father robbed him, stole his best +horse and left the country when I was a baby. He said I was a burden on +him, a pensioner, a drone; and to go and seek my father." + +And suddenly she broke into a flood of tears. Her face pressed against +my father's shoulder. He took her up in his big arms and got into his +saddle. + +"My child," he said, "let us take Hambleton Dillworth at his word." + +And he turned the horse into the lane toward the ancient house. The +girl in my father's arms made no resistance. There was this dominating +quality in the man that one trusted to him and followed behind him. She +lay in his arms, the tears wetting her white face and the long lashes. + +The moon came up, a great golden moon, shouldered over the rim of the +world by the backs of the crooked elves. The horse and the two persons +made a black, distorted shadow that jerked along as though it were a +thing evil and persistent. Far off in the thickets of the hills an owl +cried, eerie and weird like a creature in some bitter sorrow. The lane +was deep with dust. The horse traveled with no sound, and the distorted +black shadow followed, now blotted out by the heavy tree tops, and now +only partly to be seen, but always there. + +My father got down at the door and carried the girl up the steps and +between the plaster pillars into the house. There was a hall paneled +in white wood and with mahogany doors. He opened one of these doors and +went in. The room he entered had been splendid in some ancient time. +It was big; the pieces in it were exquisite; great mirrors and old +portraits were on the wall. + +A man sitting behind a table got up when my father entered. Four tallow +candles, in ancient silver sticks, were on the table, and some sheets +with figured accounts. + +The man who got up was like some strange old child. He wore a number of +little capes to hide his humped back, and his body, one thought, under +his clothes was strapped together. He got on his feet nimbly like a +spider, and they heard the click of a pistol lock as he whipped the +weapon out of an open drawer, as though it were a habit thus always to +keep a weapon at his hand to make him equal in stature with other men. +Then he saw who it was and the double-barreled pistol slipped out of +sight. He was startled and apprehensive, but he was not in fear. + +He stood motionless behind the table, his head up, his eyes hard, his +thin mouth closed like a trap and his long, dead black hair hanging on +each side of his lank face over the huge, malformed ears. The man stood +thus, unmoving, silent, with his twisted ironical smile, while my father +put the girl into a chair and stood up behind it. + +"Dillworth," said my father, "what do you mean by turning this child out +of the house?" + +The man looked steadily at the two persons before him. + +"Pendleton," he said, and he spoke precisely, "I do not recognize +the right of you, or any other man, to call my acts into account; +however"--and he made a curious gesture with his extended hands "not at +your command, but at my pleasure, I will tell you. + +"This young woman had some estate from her mother at that lady's death. +As her guardian I invested it by permission of the court's decree." He +paused. "When the Maxwell lands were sold before the courthouse I bid +them in for my ward. The judge confirmed this use of the guardian funds. +It was done upon advice of counsel and within the letter of the law. Now +it appears that Maxwell had only a life interest in these lands; Maxwell +is dead, and one who has purchased the interest of his heirs sues in the +courts for this estate. + +"This new claimant will recover; since one who buys at a judicial sale, +I find, buys under the doctrine of caveat emptor--that is to say, at his +peril. He takes his chance upon the title. The court does not insure it. +If it is defective he loses both the money and the lands. And so," he +added, "my ward will have no income to support her, and I decline to +assume that burden." + +My father looked the hunchback in the face. "Who is the man bringing +this suit at law?" + +"A Mr. Henderson, I believe," replied Dillworth, "from Maryland." + +"Do you know him?" said my father. + +"I never heard of him," replied the hunchback. + +The girl, huddled in the chair, interrupted. "I have seen letters," she +said, "come in here with this man's return address at Baltimore written +on the envelope." + +The hunchback made an irrelevant gesture. "The man wrote--to inquire +if I would buy his title. I declined." Then he turned to my father. +"Pendleton," he said, "you know about this matter. You know that every +step I took was legal. And with pains and care how I got an order out +of chancery to make this purchase, and how careful I was to have this +guardianship investment confirmed by the court. No affair was ever done +so exactly within the law." + +"Why were you so extremely careful?" said my father. + +"Because I wanted the safeguard of the law about me at every step," +replied the man. + +"But why?" + +"You ask me that, Pendleton?"' cried the man. "Is not the wisdom of my +precautions evident? I took them to prevent this very thing; to protect +myself when this thing should happen!" + +"Then," said my father, "you knew it was going to happen." + +The man's eyes slipped about a moment in his head. "I knew it was +going to happen that I would be charged with all sorts of crimes and +misdemeanors if there should be any hooks on which to hang them. Because +a man locks his door is it proof that he knows a robber is on the way? +Human foresight and the experience of men move prudent persons to a +reasonable precaution in the conduct of affairs." + +"And what is it," said my father, "that moves them to an excessive +caution?" + +The hunchback snapped his fingers with an exasperated gesture. "I will +not be annoyed by your big, dominating manner!" he cried. + +My father was not concerned by this defiance. "Dillworth," he said, "you +sent this child out to seek her father. Well, she took the right road to +find him." + +The hunchback stepped back quickly, his face changed. He sat down in +his chair and looked up at my father. There was here suddenly uncovered +something that he had not looked for. And he talked to gain time. + +"I have cast up the accounts in proper form," he said while he studied +my father, his hand moving the figured sheets. "They are correct and +settled before two commissioners in chancery. Taking out my commission +as guardian, the amounts allowed me for the maintenance and education of +the ward, and no dollar of this personal estate remains." + +His long, thin hand with the nimble fingers turned the sheets over on +the table as though to conclude that phase of the affair. + +"The real property," he continued, "will return nothing; the purchase +money was applied on Maxwell's debts and cannot be followed. This new +claimant, Henderson, who has bought up the outstanding title, will take +the land." + +"For some trifling sum," said my father. + +The hunchback nodded slowly, his eyes in a study of my father's face. + +"Doubtless," he said, "it was not known that Maxwell had only a life +estate in the lands, and the remainder to the heirs was likely purchased +for some slight amount. The language of the deeds that Henderson +exhibits in his suit shows a transfer of all claim or title, as though +he bought a thing which the grantees thought lay with the uncertainties +of a decree in chancery." + +"I have seen the deeds," said my father. + +"Then," said the hunchback, "you know they are valid, and transfer the +title." He paused. "I have no doubt that Mr. Henderson assembled these +outstanding interests at no great cost, but his conveyances are in form +and legal." + +"Everything connected with this affair," said my father, "is strangely +legal!" + +The hunchback considered my father through his narrow eyelids. + +"It is a strange world," he said. + +"It is," replied my father. "It is profoundly, inconceivably strange." + +There was a moment of silence. The two men regarded each other across +the half-length of the room. The girl sat in the chair. She had got back +her courage. The big, forceful presence of my father, like the shadow +of a great rock, was there behind her. She had the fine courage of her +blood, and, after the first cruel shock of this affair, she faced the +tragedies that might lie within it calmly. + +Shadows lay along the walls of the great room, along the gilt frames of +the portraits, the empty fireplace, the rosewood furniture of ancient +make and the oak floor. Only the hunchback was in the light, behind the +four candles on the table. + +"It was strange," continued my father over the long pause, "that your +father's will discovered at his death left his lands to you, and no acre +to your brother David." + +"Not strange," replied the hunchback, "when you consider what my brother +David proved to be. My father knew him. What was hidden from us, what +the world got no hint of, what the man was in the deep and secret places +of his heart, my father knew. Was it strange, then, that he should leave +the lands to me?" + +"It was a will drawn by an old man in his senility, and under your +control." + +"Under my care," cried the hunchback. "I will plead guilty, if you like, +to that. I honored my father. I was beside his bed with loving-kindness, +while my brother went about the pleasures of his life." + +"But the testament," said my father, "was in strange terms. It +bequeathed the lands to you, with no mention of the personal property, +as though these lands were all the estate your father had." + +"And so they were," replied the hunchback calmly. "The lands had been +stripped of horse and steer, and every personal item, and every dollar +in hand or debt owing to my father before his death." The man paused +and put the tips of his fingers together. "My father had given to my +brother so much money from these sources, from time to time, that he +justly left me the lands to make us even." + +"Your father was senile and for five years in his bed. It was you, +Dillworth, who cleaned the estate of everything but land." + +"I conducted my father's business," said the hunchback, "for him, since +he was ill. But I put the moneys from these sales into his hand and he +gave them to my brother." + +"I have never heard that your brother David got a dollar of this money." + +The hunchback was undisturbed. + +"It was a family matter and not likely to be known." + +"I see it," said my father. "It was managed in your legal manner and +with cunning foresight. You took the lands only in the will, leaving the +impression to go out that your brother had already received his share +in the personal estate by advancement. It was shrewdly done. But there +remained one peril in it: If any personal property should appear under +the law you would be required to share it equally with your brother +David." + +"Or rather," replied the hunchback calmly, "to state the thing +correctly, my brother David would be required to share any discovered +personal property with me." Then he added: "I gave my brother David a +hundred dollars for his share in the folderol about the premises, and +took possession of the house and lands." + +"And after that," said my father, "what happened?" + +The hunchback uttered a queerly inflected expletive, like a bitter +laugh. + +"After that," he answered, "we saw the real man in my brother David, as +my father, old and dying, had so clearly seen it. After that he turned +thief and fugitive." + +At the words the girl in the chair before my father rose. She stood +beside him, her lithe figure firm, her chin up, her hair spun darkness. +The courage, the fine, open, defiant courage of the first women of the +world, coming with the patriarchs out of Asia, was in her lifted face. +My father moved as though he would stop the hunchback's cruel speech. +But she put her fingers firmly on his arm. + +"He has gone so far," she said, "let him go on to the end. Let him omit +no word, let us hear every ugly thing the creature has to say." + +Dillworth sat back in his chair at ease, with a supercilious smile. He +passed the girl and addressed my father. + +"You will recall the details of that robbery," he said in his +complacent, piping voice. "My brother David had married a wife, like the +guest invited in the Scriptures. A child was born. My brother lived +with his wife's people in their house. One night he came to me to borrow +money." + +He paused and pointed his long index finger through the doorway and +across the hall. + +"It was in my father's room that I received him. It did not please me to +put money into his hands. But I admonished him with wise counsel. He +did not receive my words with a proper brotherly regard. He flared up in +unmanageable anger. He damned me with reproaches, said I had stolen his +inheritance, poisoned his father's mind against him and slipped into the +house and lands. 'Pretentious and perfidious' is what he called me. I +was firm and gentle. But he grew violent and a thing happened." + +The man put up his hand and moved it along in the air above the table. + +"There was a secretary beside the hearth in my father's room. It was an +old piece with drawers below and glass doors above. These doors had not +been opened for many years, for there was nothing on the shelves behind +them--one could see that--except some rows of the little wooden boxes +that indigo used to be sold in at the country stores." + +The hunchback paused as though to get the details of his story precisely +in relation. + +"I sat at my father's table in the middle of the room. My brother David +was a great, tall man, like Saul. In his anger, as he gesticulated by +the hearth, his elbow crashed through the glass door of this secretary; +the indigo boxes fell, burst open on the floor, and a hidden store of my +father's money was revealed. The wooden boxes were full of gold pieces!" + +He stopped and passed his fingers over his projecting chin. + +"I was in fear, for I was alone in the house. Every negro was at a +distant frolic. And I was justified in that fear. My brother leaped on +me, struck me a stunning blow on the chest over the heart, gathered up +the gold, took my horse and fled. At daybreak the negroes found me on +the floor, unconscious. Then you came, Pendleton. The negroes had washed +up the litter from the hearth where the indigo about the coins in the +boxes had been shaken out." + +My father interrupted: + +"The negroes said the floor had been scrubbed when they found you." + +"They were drunk," continued the hunchback with no concern. "And, does +one hold a drunken negro to his fact? But you saw for yourself the +wooden boxes, round, three inches high, with tin lids, and of a diameter +to hold a stack of golden eagles, and you saw the indigo still sticking +about the sides of these boxes where the coins had lain." + +"I did," replied my father. "I observed it carefully, for I thought the +gold pieces might turn up sometime, and the blue indigo stain might be +on them when they first appeared." + +Dillworth leaned far back in his chair, his legs tangled under him, his +eyes on my father, in reflection. Finally he spoke. + +"You are far-sighted," he said. + +"Or God is," replied my father, and, stepping over to the table, he spun +a gold piece on the polished surface of the mahogany board. + +The hunchback watched the yellow disk turn and flit and wabble on its +base and flutter down with its tingling reverberations. + +"To-day, when I rode into the county seat to a sitting of the justices," +continued my father, "the sheriff showed me some gold eagles that your +man from Maryland, Mr. Henderson, had paid in on court costs. Look, +Dillworth, there is one of them, and with your thumb nail on the milled +edge you can scrape off the indigo!" + +The hunchback looked at the spinning coin, but he did not touch it. His +head, with its long, straight hair, swung a moment uncertain between his +shoulders. Then, swiftly and with a firm grip, he took his resolution. + +"The coins appear," he said. "My brother David must be in Baltimore +behind this suit." + +"He is not in Baltimore," said my father. + +"Perhaps you know where he is," cried the hunchback, "since you speak +with such authority." + +"I do know where he is," said my father in his deep, level voice. + +The hunchback got on his feet slowly beside his chair. And the girl came +into the protection of my father's arm, her features white like plaster; +but the fiber in her blood was good and she stood up to face the thing +that might be coming. After the one long abandonment to tears in my +father's saddle she had got herself in hand. She had gone, like the +princes of the blood, through the fire, and the dross of weakness was +burned out. + +The hunchback got on his feet, in position like a duelist, his hard, +bitter face turned slantwise toward my father. + +"Then," he said, "if you know where David is you will take his daughter +to him, if you please, and rid my house of the burden of her." + +"We shall go to him," said my father slowly, "but he shall not return to +us." + +The hunchback's eyes blinked and bated in the candlelight. + +"You quote the Scriptures," he said. "Is David in a grave?" + +"He is not," replied my father. + +The hunchback seemed to advance like a duelist who parries the first +thrust of his opponent. But my father met him with an even voice. + +"Dillworth," he said, "it was strange that no man ever saw your brother +or the horse after the night he visited you in this house." + +"It was dark," replied the man. "He rode from this door through the gap +in the mountains into Maryland." + +"He rode from this door," said my father slowly, "but not through the +gap in the mountains into Maryland." + +The hunchback began to twist his fingers. + +"Where did he ride then? A man and a horse could not vanish." + +"They did vanish," said my father. + +"Now you utter fool talk!" cried Dillworth. + +"I speak the living truth," replied my father. "Your brother David and +your horse disappeared out of sound and hearing--disappeared out of the +sight and knowledge of men--after he rode away from your door on that +fatal night." + +"Well," said the hunchback, "since my brother David rode away from my +door--and you know that--I am free of obligation for him." + +"It is Cain's speech!" replied my father. + +The hunchback put back his long hair with a swift brush of the fingers +across his forehead. + +"Dillworth," cried my father, and his voice filled the empty places of +the room, "is the mark there?" + +The hunchback began to curse. He walked around my father and the girl, +the hair about his lank jaws, his fingers working, his face evil. In +his front and menace he was like a weasel that would attack some larger +creature. And while he made the great turn of his circle my father, with +his arm about the girl, stepped before the drawer of the table where the +pistol lay. + +"Dillworth," he said calmly, "I know where he is. And the mark you felt +for just now ought to be there." + +"Fool!" cried the hunchback. "If I killed him how could he ride away +from the door?" + +"It was a thing that puzzled me," replied my father, "when I stood in +this house on the morning of your pretended robbery. I knew what had +happened. But I thought it wiser to let the evil thing remain a mystery, +rather than unearth it to foul your family name and connect this child +in gossip for all her days with a crime." + +"With a thief," snarled the man. + +"With a greater criminal than a thief," replied My father. "I was not +certain about this gold on that morning when you showed me the empty +boxes. They were too few to hold gold enough for such a motive. I +thought a quarrel and violent hot blood were behind the thing; and for +that reason I have been silent. But now, when the coins turn up, I see +that the thing was all ruthless, cold-blooded love of money. + +"I know what happened in that room. When your brother David struck the +old secretary with his elbow, and the dozen indigo boxes fell and burst +open on the hearth, you thought a great hidden treasure was uncovered. +You thought swiftly. You had got the land by undue influence on your +senile father, and you did not have to share that with your brother +David. But here was a treasure you must share; you saw it in a flash. +You sat at your father's table in the room. Your brother stood by the +wall looking at the hearth. And you acted then, on the moment, with the +quickness of the Evil One. It was cunning in you to select the body over +the heart as the place to receive the imagined blow--the head or face +would require some evidential mark to affirm your word. And it was +cunning to think of the unconscious, for in that part one could get up +and scrub the hearth and lie down again to play it." + +He paused. + +"But the other thing you did in that room was not so clever. A picture +was newly hung on the wall--I saw the white square on the opposite wall +from which it had been taken. It hung at the height of a man's shoulders +directly behind the spot where your brother must have stood after he +struck the secretary, and it hung in this new spot to cover the crash of +a bullet into the mahogany panel!" + +My father stopped and caught up the hunchback's double-barreled pistol +out of the empty drawer. + +The room was now illumined; the moon had got above the tree tops and its +light slanted in through the long windows. The hunchback saw the thing +and he paused; his face worked in the fantastic light. + +"Yes," continued my father, in his deep, quiet voice, "this is your +mistake to-night--to let me get your weapon. Your mistake that other +night was to shoot before you counted the money. It was only a few +hundred dollars. The dozen wooden boxes would hold no great sum. But the +thing was done, and you must cover it." + +He paused. + +"And you did cover it--with fiendish cunning. It would not do for your +brother to vanish from your house, alone and with no motive. But if +he disappeared, with the gold to take him and a horse to ride, the +explanation would have solid feet to go on. I give you credit here for +the ingenuity of Satan. You managed the thing. You caused your brother +David and the horse to vanish. I saw, on that morning, the tracks of +the horse where you led him from the stable to the door, and his tracks +where you led him, holding the dead man in the saddle, from the door to +the ancient orchard where the grass grows over the fallen-down chimney +of your grandsire's house. And there, at your cunning, they wholly +vanished." + +The mad courage in the hunchback got control, and he began to advance on +my father with no weapon and with no hope to win. His fingers crooked, +his body in a bow, his wizen, cruel face pallid in the ghostly light. + +"Dillworth," cried my father, in a great voice, like one who would +startle a creature out of mania, "you will write a deed in your +legal manner granting these lands to your brother's child. And after +that"--his words were like the blows of a hammer on an anvil--"I will +give you until daybreak to vanish out of our sight and hearing--through +the gap in the mountains into Maryland on your horse, as you say your +brother David went, or into the abandoned cistern in the ancient orchard +where he lies under the horse that you shot and tumbled in on his +murdered body!" + +The moon was now above the gable of the house. The candles were burned +down. They guttered around the sheet of foolscap wet with the scrawls +and splashes of Dillworth's quill. My father stood at a window looking +out, the girl in a flood of tears, relaxed and helpless, in the +protection of his arm. + +And far down the long turnpike, white like an expanded ribbon, the +hunchback rode his great horse in a gallop, perched like a monkey, +his knees doubled, his head bobbing, his loose body rolling in the +saddle--while the black, distorted shadow that had followed my father +into this tragic house went on before him like some infernal messenger +convoying the rider to the Pit. + + + + +IX. The End of the Road + + +The man laughed. + +It was a faint cynical murmur of a laugh. Its expression hardly +disturbed the composition of his features. + +"I fear, Lady Muriel," he said, "that your profession is ruined. Our +friend--'over the water'--is no longer concerned about the affairs of +England." + +The woman fingered at her gloves, turning them back about the wrists. +Her face was anxious and drawn. + +"I am rather desperately in need of money," she said. + +The cynicism deepened in the man's face. + +"Unfortunately," he replied, "a supply of money cannot be influenced by +the intensity of one's necessity for it." + +He was a man indefinite in age. His oily black hair was brushed +carefully back. His clothes were excellent, with a precise detail. +Everything about him was conspicuously correct in the English fashion. +But the man was not English. One could not say from what race he +came. Among the races of Southern Europe he could hardly have been +distinguished. There was a chameleon quality strongly dominant in the +creature. + +The woman looked up quickly, as in a strong aversion. + +"What shall you do?" she said. + +"I?" + +The man glanced about the room. There was a certain display within +the sweep of his vision. Some rugs of great value, vases and bronzes; +genuine and of extreme age. He made a careless gesture with his hands. + +"I shall explore some ruins in Syria, and perhaps the aqueduct which the +French think carried a water supply to the Carthage of Hanno. It will +be convenient to be beyond British inquiry for some years to come; and +after all, I am an antiquarian, like Prosper Merimee." + +Lady Muriel continued to finger her gloves. They had been cleaned and +the cryptic marks of the shopkeeper were visible along the inner side of +the wrist hem. This was, to the woman, the first subterfuge of decaying +smartness. When a woman began to send her gloves to the laundry she +was on her way down. Other evidences were not entirely lacking in the +woman's dress, but they were not patent to the casual eye. Lady Muriel +was still, to the observer, of the gay top current in the London world. + +The woman followed the man's glance about the room. + +"You must be rich, Hecklemeir," she said. "Lend me a hundred pounds." + +The man laughed again in his queer chuckle. + +"Ah, no, my Lady," he replied, "I do not lend." Then he added. + +"If you have anything of value, bring it to me.... not information +from the ministry, and not war plans; the trade in such commodities is +ended." + +It was the woman's turn to laugh. + +"The shopkeepers in Oxford Street have been before you, Baron.. .. I've +nothing to sell." + +Hecklemeir smiled, kneading his pudgy hands. + +"It will be hard to borrow," he said. "Money is very dear to the +Britisher just now--right against his heart.... Still.... perhaps one's +family could be thumb screwed......An elderly relative with no children +would be the most favorable, I think. Have you got such a relative +concealed somewhere in a nook of London? Think about it. If you could +recall one, he would be like a buried nut." + +The man paused; then he added, with the offensive chuckling laugh: + +"Go to such an one, Lady Muriel. Who shall turn aside from virtue +in distress? Perhaps, in the whole of London, I alone have the +brutality--shall we call it--to resist that spectacle." + +The woman rose. Her face was now flushed and angry. + +"I do not know of any form of brutality in which you do not excel, +Hecklemeir," she said. "I have a notion to, go to Scotland Yard with the +whole story of your secret traffic." + +The man continued to smile. + +"Alas, my Lady," he replied, "we are coupled together. Scotland Yard +would hardly separate us.... you could scarcely manage to drown me and, +keep afloat yourself. Dismiss the notion; it is from the pit." + +There was no virtue in her threat as the woman knew. Already her mind +was on the way that Hecklemeir had ironically suggested--an elderly +relative, with no children, from whom one might borrow,--she valued +the ramifications of her family, running out to the remote, withered +branches of that noble tree. She appraised the individuals and rejected +them. + +Finally her searching paused. + +There was her father's brother who had gone in for science--deciding +against the army and the church--Professor Bramwell Winton, the +biologist. He lived somewhere toward Covent Garden. + +She had not thought of him for years. Occasionally his name appeared in +some note issued by the museum, or a college at Oxford. + +For almost four years she had been relieved of this thought about one's +family. The one "over the water" for whom Hecklemeir had stolen the +Scottish toast to designate, had paid lavishly for what she could find +out. + +She had been richly, for these four years, in funds. + +The habit was established of dipping her hand into the dish. And now +to find the dish empty appalled her. She could not believe that it was +empty. She had come again, and again to this apartment above the shops +in Regent Street, selected for its safety of ingress; a modiste and a +hairdresser on either side of a narrow flight of steps. + +A carriage could stop here; one could be seen here. + +Even on the right, above, at the landing of the flight of steps Nance +Coleen altered evening gowns with the skill of one altering the plumage +of the angels. It must have cost the one "over the water" a pretty penny +to keep this whole establishment running through four years of war. + +She spoke finally. + +"Have you a directory of London, Hecklemeir?" + +The man had been watching her closely. + +"If it is Scotland Yard, my Lady," he said, "you will not require a +direction. I can give you the address. It is on the Embankment, +near..." + +"Don't be a fool, Hecklemeir," she interrupted, and taking the book from +his hands, she whipped through the pages, got the address she sought, +and went out onto the narrow landing and down the steps into Regent +Street: + +She took a hansom. + +With some concern she examined the contents of her purse. There was a +guinea, a half crown and some shillings in it--the dust of the bin. And +her profession, as Hecklemeir had said, was ended. + +She leaned over, like a man, resting her arms on the closed doors. + +The future looked troublous. Money was the blood current in the life she +knew. It was the vital element. It must be got. + +And thus far she had been lucky. + +Even in this necessity Bramwell Winton had emerged, when she could not +think of any one. He would not have much. These scientific creatures +never accumulated money, but he would have a hundred pounds. He had no +wife or children to scatter the shillings of his income. + +True these creatures spent a good deal on the absurd rubbish of their +hobbies. But they got money sometimes, not by thrift but by a sort of +chance. Had not one of them, Sir Isaac Martin, found the lost mines from +which the ancient civilization of Syria drew its supply of copper. And +Hector Bartlett, little more than a mummy in the Museum, had gone one +fine day into Asia and dug up the gold plates that had roofed a temple +of the Sun. + +He had been shown in the drawing rooms, on his return, and she had +stopped a moment to look him over--he was a sort of mummy. She was not +hoping to find Bramwell Winton one of these elect. But he was a hive +that had not been plundered. + +She reflected, sitting bent forward in the hansom, her face determined +and unchanging. She did not undertake to go forward beyond the hundred +pounds. Something would turn up. She was lucky... others had gone to +the tower; gone before the firing squad for lesser activities in +what Hecklemeir called her profession, but she had floated through... +carrying what she gleaned to the paymaster. Was it skill, or was she a +child of Fortune? + +And like every gambler, like every adventurer in a life of hazard, she +determined for the favorite of some immense Fatality. + +It was an old house she came to, built in the prehistoric age of London, +with thick, heavy walls, one of a row, deadly in its monotony. The row +was only partly tenanted. + +She dismissed the hansom and got out. + +It was a moment before she found the number. The houses adjoining on +either side were empty, the windows were shuttered. One might have +considered the middle house with the two, for its step was unscrubbed, +and it presented unwashed windows. + +It was a heavy, deep-walled structure like a monument. Even the +street in the vicinity was empty. If the biologist had been seeking an +undisturbed quarter of London, he had, beyond doubt, found it here. + +There was a bridged-over court before the house. Lady Muriel crossed. +She paused before the door. There had been a bell pull in the wall, but +the brass handle was broken and only the wire remained. + +She was uncertain whether one was supposed to pull this wire, and in +the hesitation she took hold of the door latch. To her surprise the door +yielded, and following the impulse of her extended hand, she went in. + +The hall was empty. There was no servant to be seen. And immediately the +domestic arrangement of the biologist were clear to her. They would be +that of one who had a cleaning woman in on certain days, and so lived +alone. She was not encouraged by this economy, and yet such a custom in +a man like Bramwell Winton might be habit. + +The scientist, in the popular conception, was not concerned with the +luxury of life--they were a rum lot. + +But the house was not empty. A smart hat and stick were in the rack and +from what should be a drawing room, above, there descended faintly the +sound of voices. + +It seemed ridiculous to Lady Muriel to go out and struggle with the +broken bell wire. She would go up, now that she had entered, and +announce herself, since, in any event, it must come to that. + +The heavy oak door closed without a sound, as it had opened. Lady Muriel +went up the stairway. She had nothing to put down. The only thing she +carried was a purse, and lest it should appear suggestive--as of one +coming with his empty wallet in his hand--she tucked the gold mesh into +the bosom of her jacket. + +The door to the drawing room was partly open, and as Lady Muriel +approached the top of the stair she heard the voices of two men in an +eager colloquy; a smart English accent from the world that she was so +desperately endeavoring to remain in, and a voice that paused and +was unhurried. But they were both eager, as I have written, as though +commonly impulsed by an unusual concern. + +And now that she was near, Lady Muriel realized that the conversation +was not low or under uttered. The smart voice was, in fact, loud and +incisive. It was the heavy house that reduced the sounds. In fact, the +conversation was keyed up. The two men were excited about something. + +A sentence arrested the woman's advancing feet. + +"My word! Bramwell, if some one should go there and bring the things +out, he would make a fortune, and would be famous. Nobody ever believed +these stories." + +"There was Le Petit, Sir Godfrey," replied the deliberate voice. "He +declared over his signature that he had seen them." + +"But who believed Le Petit," continued the other. "The world took him +to be a French imaginist like Chateaubriand... who the devil, Bramwell, +supposed there was any truth in this old story? But by gad, sir, it's +true! The water color shows it, and if you turn it over you will see +that the map on the back of it gives the exact location of the spot. +It's all exact work, even the fine lines of the map have the bearings +indicated. The man who made that water color, and the drawing on the +back of it, had been on the spot. + +"Of course, we don't know conclusively who made it. Tony had gone in +from the West coast after big game, and he found the thing put up as +a sort of fetish in a devil house. It was one of the tribes near the +Karamajo range. As I told you, we have only Tony's diary for it. I found +the thing among his effects after he was killed in Flanders. It's pretty +certain Tony did not understand the water color. There was only this +single entry in the diary about how he found it, and a query in pencil. + +"My word! if he had understood the water color, he would have beaten +over every foot of Africa to Lake Leopold. And it would have been the +biggest find of his time. Gad! what a splash he'd have made! But he +never had any luck, the beggar... stopped a German bullet in the first +week out. + +"Now, how the devil, Bramwell, do you suppose that water color got into +a native medicine house?" + +The reflective voice replied slowly. + +"I've thought about the thing, Sir Godfrey. It must have been the work +of the Holland explorer, Maartin. He was all about in Africa, and he +died in there somewhere, at least he never came out... that was ten +years ago. I've looked him up, and I find that he could do a water +color--in fact there's a collection of his water colors in, the Dutch +museum. They're very fine work, like this one; exquisite, I'd say. The +fellow was born an artist. + +"How it got into the hands of a native devil doctor is not difficult +to imagine. The sleeping sickness may have wiped Maartin out, or the +natives may have rushed his camp some morning, or he may have been +mauled by a beast. Any article of a white man is medicine stuff you +know. When you first showed me the thing I was puzzled. I knew what +it was because I had read Le Petit's pretension... I can't call it a +pretension now; the things are there whether he saw them or not. + +"I think he did not see them. But it is certain from this water color +that some one did; and Maartin is the only explorer that could have done +such a color. As soon as I thought of Maartin I knew the thing could +have been done by no other." + +Lady Muriel had remained motionless on the stair. The door to the +drawing room, before her, was partly open. She stepped in to the angle +of the wall and drew the door slowly back until it covered this angle in +which she stood. + +She was rich in such experiences, for her success had depended, not a +little, on overhearing what was being said. Through the crack of the +door the whole interior of the room was visible. + +Sir Godfrey Halleck, a little dapper man, was sitting across the table +from Bramwell Winton. His elbows were on the table, and he was looking +eagerly at the biologist. Bramwell Winton had in his hands the thing +under discussion. + +It seemed to be a piece of cardboard or heavy paper about six inches in +length by, perhaps, four in width. Lady Muriel could not see what was +drawn or painted on this paper. But the heart in her bosom quickened. +She had chanced on the spoor of something worth while. + +The little dapper man flung his head up. + +"Oh, it's certain, Bramwell; it's beyond any question now. My word! +If Tony were only alive, or I twenty years younger! It's no great +undertaking, to go in to the Karamajo Mountains. One could start from +the West Coast, unship any place and pick up a bunch of natives. The map +on the back of the water color is accurate. The man who made that knew +how to travel in an unknown country. He must have had a theodolite and +the very best equipment. Anybody could follow that map." + +There was a battered old dispatch box on the table beside Sir Godfrey's +arm--one that had seen rough service. + +"Of course," he went on, "we don't know when Tony picked up this +drawing. It was in this box here with his diary, an automatic pistol and +some quinine. The date of the diary entry is the only clue. That would +indicate that he was near the Karamajo range at the time, not far from +the spot." + +He snapped his fingers. + +"What damned luck!" + +He clinched his hands and brought them down on the table. + +"I'm nearly seventy, Bramwell, but you're ten years under that. You +could go in. No one need know the object of your expedition. Hector +Bartlett didn't tell the whole of England when he went out to Syria for +the gold plates. A scientist can go anywhere. No one wonders what he is +about. It wouldn't take three months. And the climate isn't poisonous. I +think it's mostly high ground. Tony didn't complain about it." + +The biologist answered without looking up. + +"I haven't got the money, Sir Godfrey." + +The dapper little man jerked his head as over a triviality. + +"I'll stake you. It wouldn't cost above five hundred pounds." + +The biologist sat back in his chair, at the words, and looked over the +table at his guest. + +"That's awfully decent of you, Godfrey," he said, "and I'd go if I saw a +way to get your money to you if anything happened." + +"Damn the money!" cried the other. + +The biologist smiled. + +"Well," he said, "let me think about it. I could probably fix up some +sort of insurance. Lloyd's will bet nearly any sane man that he won't +die for three months. And besides I should wish to look things up a +little." + +Sir Godfrey rose. + +"Oh, to be sure," he said, "you want to make certain about the thing. We +might be wrong. I hadn't an idea what it was until I brought it to you, +and of course Tony hadn't an idea. Make certain of it by all means." + +The biologist extended his long legs under the table. He indicated the +water color in his hand. + +"This thing's certain," he said. "I know what this thing is." + +He rapped the water color with the fingers of his free hand. + +"This thing was painted on the spot. Maartin was looking at this thing +when he painted it. You can see the big shadows underneath. No living +creature could have imagined this or painted it from hearsay. He had to +see it. And he did see it. I wasn't thinking about this, Godfrey. I was +thinking the Dutch government might help a bit in the hope of finding +some trace of Maartin and I should wish to examine any information they +might have about him." + +"Damn the Dutch government!" cried the little man. "And damn Lloyd's. We +will go it on our own hook." + +The biologist smiled. + +"Let me think about it, a little," he said. + +The dapper man flipped a big watch out of his waistcoat pocket. + +"Surely!" he cried, "I must get the next train up. Have you got a place +to lock the stuff? I had to cut this lid open with a chisel." + +He indicated the tin dispatch box. + +"Better keep it all. You'll want to run through the diary, I imagine. +Tony's got down the things explorer chaps are always keen about; +temperature, water supply, food and all that..... Now, I'm off. See you +Thursday afternoon at the United Service Club. Better lunch with me." + +Then he pushed the dispatch box across the table. The biologist rose and +turned back the lid of the box. The contents remained as Sir Godfrey's +dead son had left them; a limp leather diary, an automatic pistol of +some American make, a few glass tubes of quinine, packed in cotton wool. + +He put the water color on the bottom of the box and replaced them. + +Then he took the dispatch box over to an old iron safe at the farther +end of the room, opened it, set the box within, locked the door, and, +returning, thrust the key under a pile of journals on the corner of the +table. Then he went out, and down the stairway with his guest to the +door. + +They passed within a finger touch of Lady Muriel. + +The woman was quick to act. There would be no borrowing from Bramwell +Winton. He would now, with this expedition on the way, have no penny for +another. But here before her, as though arranged by favor of Fatality, +was something evidently of enormous value that she could cash in to +Hecklemeir. + +There was fame and fortune on the bottom of that dispatch box. + +Something that would have been the greatest find of the age to Tony +Halleck... something that the biologist, clearly from his words and +manner, valued beyond the gold plates of Sir Hector Bartlett. + +It was a thing that Hecklemeir would buy with money... the very thing +which he would be at this opportune moment interested to purchase. She +saw it in the very first comprehensive glance. + +Her luck was holding Fortune was more than favorable, merely. It +exercised itself actively, with evident concern, in her behalf. + +Lady Muriel went swiftly into the room. She slipped the key from under +the pile of journals and crossed to the safe sitting against the wall. + +It was an old safe of some antediluvian manufacture and the lock was +worn. The stem of the key was smooth and it slipped in her gloved hands. +She could not hold it firm enough to turn the lock. Finally with her +bare fingers and with one hand to aid the other she was able to move the +lock and so open the safe. + +She heard the door to the street close below, and the faint sound of +Bramwell Winton's footsteps as though he went along the hall into the +service portion of the house. She was nervous and hurried, but this +reassured her. + +The battered dispatch box sat within on the empty bottom of the a safe. + +She lifted the lid; an automatic pistol lay on a limp leather-backed +journal, stained, discolored and worn. Lady Muriel slipped her hand +under these articles and lifted out the thing she sought. + +Even in the pressing haste of her adventure, the woman could not forbear +to look at the thing upon which these two men set so great a value. She +stopped then a moment on her knees beside the safe, the prized article +in her hands. + +A map, evidently drawn with extreme care, was before her. She glanced +at it hastily and turned the thing quickly over. What she saw amazed and +puzzled her. Even in this moment of tense emotions she was astonished: +She saw a pool of water,--not a pool of water in the ordinary sense--but +a segment of water, as one would take a certain limited area of the +surface of the sea or a lake or river. It was amber-colored and as +smooth as glass, and on the surface of this water, as though they +floated, were what appeared to be three, reddish-purple colored flowers, +and beneath them on the bottom of the water were huge indistinct +shadows. + +The water was not clear to make out the shadows. But the appearing +flowers were delicately painted. They stood out conspicuously on the +glassy surface of the water as though they were raised above it. + +Amazement held the woman longer than she thought, over this +extraordinary thing. Then she thrust it into the bosom of her jacket, +fastening the button securely over it. + +The act kept her head down. When she lifted it Bramwell Winton was +standing in the door. + +In terror her hand caught up the automatic pistol out of the tin box. +She acted with no clear, no determined intent. It was a gesture of fear +and of indecision; escape through menace was perhaps the subconscious +motive; the most primitive, the most common motive of all creatures in +the corner. It extends downward from the human mind through all life. + +To spring up, to drag the veil over her face with her free hand, and to +thrust the weapon at the figure in the doorway was all simultaneous and +instinctive acts in the expression of this primordial impulse of escape +through menace. + +Then a thing happened. + +There was a sharp report and the figure standing in the doorway swayed +a moment and fell forward into the room. The unconscious gripping of the +woman's fingers had fired the pistol. + +For a moment Lady Muriel stood unmoving, arrested in every muscle by +this accident. But her steady wits--skilled in her profession--did not +wholly desert her. She saw that the man was dead. There was peril in +that--immense, uncalculated peril, but the prior and immediate peril, +the peril of discovery in the very accomplishment of theft, was by this +act averted. + +She stooped over, her eyes fixed on the sprawling body and with her free +hand closed the door of the safe. Then she crossed the room, put the +pistol down on the floor near the dead man's hand and went out. + +She went swiftly down the stairway and paused a moment at the door to +look out. The street was empty. She hurried away. + +She met no one. A cab in the distance was appearing. She hailed it as +from a cross street and returned to Regent. It was characteristic of the +woman that her mind dwelt upon the spoil she carried rather than upon +the act she had done. + +She puzzled at the water color. How could these things be flowers? + +Bramwell Winton was a biologist; he would not be concerned with flowers. +And Sir Godfrey Halleck and his son Tony, the big game hunter, were +not men to bother themselves with blossoms. Sir Godfrey, as she now +remembered vaguely, had, like his dead son, been a keen sportsman in his +youth; his country house was full of trophies. + +She carried buttoned in the bosom of her jacket something that these men +valued. But, what was it? Well, at any rate it was something that would +mean fame and fortune to the one who should bring it out of Africa. That +one would now be Hecklemeir, and she should have her share of the spoil. + +Lady Muriel found the drawing-room of her former employer in some +confusion; rugs were rolled up, bronzes were being packed. But in the +disorder of it the proprietor was imperturbable. He merely elevated his +eyebrows at her reappearance. She went instantly to the point. + +"Hecklemeir," she said, "how would you like to have a definite objective +in your explorations?" + +The man looked at her keenly. + +"What do you mean precisely?" he replied. + +"I mean," she continued, "something that would bring one fame and +fortune if one found it." And she added, as a bit of lure, "You remember +the gold plates Hector Bartlett dug up in Syria?" + +He came over closer to her; his little eyes narrowed. + +"What have you got?" he said. + +His facetious manner--that vulgar persons imagine to be +distinguished--was gone out of him. He was direct and simple. + +She replied with no attempt at subterfuge. + +"I've got a map of a route to some sort of treasure--I don't know +what--It's in the Karamajo Mountains in the French Congo; a map to it +and a water color of the thing." + +Hecklemeir did not ask how Lady Muriel came by the thing she claimed; +his profession always avoided such detail. But he knew that she had gone +to Bramwell Winton; and what she had must have come from some scientific +source. The mention of Hector Bartlett was not without its virtue. + +Lady Muriel marked the man's changed manner, and pushed her trade. + +"I want a check for a hundred pounds and a third of the thing when you +bring it out." + +Hecklemeir stood for a moment with the tips of his fingers pressed +against his lips; then replied. + +"If you have anything like the thing you describe, I'll give you a +hundred pounds... let me see it." + +She took the water color out of the bosom of her jacket and gave it to +him. + +He carried it over to the window and studied it a moment. Then he turned +with a sneering oath. + +"The devil take your treasure," he said, "these things are +water-elephants. I don't care a farthing if they stand on the bottom of +every lake in Africa!" + +And he flung the water color toward her. Mechanically the stunned woman +picked it up and smoothed it out in her fingers. + +With the key to the picture she saw it clearly, the shadowy bodies of +the beasts and the tips of their trunks distended on the surface like +a purple flower. And vaguely, as though it were a memory from a +distant life, she recalled hearing the French Ambassador and Baron Rudd +discussing the report of an explorer who pretended to have seen these +supposed fabulous elephants come out of an African forest and go down +under the waters of Lake Leopold. + +She stood there a moment, breaking the thing into pieces with her bare +hands. Then she went out. At the door on the landing she very nearly +stepped against a little cockney. + +"My Lidy," he whined, "I was bringing your gloves; you dropped them on +your way up." + +She took them mechanically and began to draw them on... the cryptic +sign of the cleaner on the wrist hem was now to her indicatory of +her submerged estate. The little cockney hung about a moment as for a +gratuity delayed, then he disappeared down the stair before her. + +She went slowly down, fitting the gloves to her fingers. + +Midway of the flight she paused. The voice of the little cockney, but +without the accent, speaking to a Bobby standing beside the entrance +reached her. + +"It was Sir Henry Marquis who set the Yard to register all laundry marks +in London. Great C. I. D. Chief, Sir Henry!" + +And Lady Muriel remembered that she had removed these gloves in order to +turn the slipping key in Bramwell Winton's safe lock. + + + + +X.-The Last Adventure + + +The talk had run on treasure. + +I could not sleep and my friends had dropped in. I had the big South +room on the second floor of the Hotel de Paris. It looks down on the +Casino and the Mediterranean. Perhaps you know it. + +Queer friends, you'd say. Every man-jack of them a gambler. But when one +begins to sit about all night with his eyes open, the devil's a friend. + +Barclay was standing before the fire. The others had drifted out. He's +a big man pitted with the smallpox. He made a gesture, flinging out his +hand toward the door. + +"That bunch thinks there's a curse on treasure, Sir Henry. That's one of +the oldest notions in the world... it's unlucky." + +"But I know where there's a treasure that's not unlucky. At least it was +not unlucky for poor Charlie Tavor. He did not get it, but there was no +curse on it that reached to him. It helped poor Charlie finish in style. +He died like a lord in a big country house, with a formal garden and a +line of lackeys." + +Barclay paused. + +"Queer chap, Tavor. He was the best all round explorer in the world. I +bar nobody. Charlie Tavor could take a nigger and cross the poisonous +plateau south west of the Libyan desert. I've backed him. I know... but +he had no business sense, anybody could fool him. He found the stock of +bar silver on the west face of the Andes that made old Nute Hardman a +quarter of a million dollars, clear, after the cursed beast had split it +a half dozen ways with a crooked South American government." + +Barclay's teeth set and he jerked up his clinched hand. + +"It was a damned steal, Sir Henry. A piece of low down, dirty robbery; +and it was like taking candy away from a child.... 'Sign here, Mr. +Tavor,' and Charlie would scrawl on his fist.. .. Some people think +there's no hell, but what's God Almighty going to do with Old Nute?" + +He flung out his hand again. + +"Still the thing didn't dent Charlie. He never missed a step. 'Don't +bother, Barclay, old man,' he'd say, 'I'll find something else,' and +then he'd go off into this dream he had of coming back when he'd struck +it, to the old home county in England and laying it over the bunch that +had called him 'no good.' He never talked much, but I gathered from odds +and ends that he was the black sheep in a pretty smart flock. + +"Then, I'd stake him to a cheap outfit--not much, I've said he could +push through the Libyan desert with a nigger--and he'd drop out of +the world. It wasn't charity. I got my money's worth. The clay pots he +brought me from Yucatan would sell any day for more cash than I ever +advanced him." + +Barclay moved a little before the fire. I was listening in a big chair, +my feet extended toward the hearth; a smoking jacket had replaced my +dinner coat. + +"It was five years ago, in London," Barclay went on, "that I fitted +Charlie out for his last adventure. He wanted to land in the gulf of +Pe-chi-li and go into the great desert of the Shamo in Central Mongolia. +You'll find the Shamo all dotted out on the maps; but it's faked dope. +No white man knows anything about the Shamo. + +"It's a trick to lay off these great waste areas and call them elevated +plateaus or sunken plateaus. You can't go by the atlas. Where's Kane's +Open Polar Sea and Morris K. Jessup's Land? Still, Charlie thought the +Shamo might be a low plain, and he thought he might find something in +it. You see the great gold caravans used to cross it, three thousand +years ago... and as Charlie kept saying, 'What's time in the Shamo?' + +"Well, I bought him a kit of stuff, and he took a P. and O. through the +Suez. I got a long letter from Pekin two months later; and then Charlie +Tavor dropped out of the world. I went back to America. No word ever +came from Charlie. I thought he was dead. I suppose a white man's life +is about the cheapest thing there is northwest of the Yellow River; and +Charlie never had an escort. A coolie and an old service pistol would +about foot up his defenses. + +"And there's every ghastly disease in Mongolia.... Still some word +always came from Tavor inside of a year; a tramp around the Horn would +bring in a dirty note, written God knows where, and carried out to the +ship by a naked native swimming with the thing in his teeth; or some +little embassy would send it to me in a big official envelope stamped +with enough red wax to make a saint's candle. + +"But the luck failed this time. A year ran on, then two, then three and +I passed Charlie up. He'd surely 'gone west!'" + +Barclay paused, thrust his hands into the pockets of his dinner jacket +and looked down at me. + +"One night in New York I got a call from the City Hospital. The +telephone message came in about ten o'clock. I was in Albany; I found +the message when I got back the following morning and I went ever to the +hospital. + +"The matron said that they had picked up a man on the North River docks +in an epileptic fit and the only name they could find on him was my New +York address. They thought he was going to die, he was cold and stiff +for hours, and they had undertaken to reach me in order to identify him. +But he did not die. He was up this morning and she would bring him in." + +Barclay paused again. + +"She brought in Charlie Tavor!... And I nearly screamed when I saw the +man. He was dressed in one of those cheap hand-me-downs that the Germans +used to sell in the tropics for a pound, three and six, his eyes looked +as dead as glass and he was as white as plaster. How the man managed to +keep on his feet I don't know. + +"I didn't stop for any explanation. I got Tavor into a taxi, and over to +my apartment." + +Barclay moved in his position before the fire. + +"But on the way over a thing happened that some little god played in +for a joke. There was a block just where Thirty-third crosses into Fifth +Avenue, and our taxi pulled up by a limousine." + +Barclay suddenly thrust out his big pock-marked face. + +"The thing couldn't have happened by itself. Some burlesque angel put +it over when the Old Man wasn't looking. Spread out on the tapestry +cushions of that limousine was Nute Hardman! + +"There they were side by side. Not six feet apart; Old Nute in a +sable-lined coat and Charlie in his hand-me-down, at a pound, three and +six." + +The muscles in Barclay's big jaw tightened. + +"Maybe there is a joker that runs the world, and maybe the devil runs +it. Anyhow it's a queer system. Here was Charlie Tavor, straight as a +string, down and out. And here was Nute Hardman, so crooked that a fly +couldn't light on him and stand level, with everything that money could +buy. + +"I cast it up while the taxi stood there beside the car. Nute was consul +in a South American port that you couldn't spell and couldn't find on +the map. He didn't have two dollars to rub together, until Charlie Tavor +turned up. There he sat, out of the world, forgotten, growing moss and +getting ready to rot; and God Almighty, or the devil, or whatever it is, +steered Charlie Tavor in to him with the bar silver. + +"He picked Charlie to the bone and cut for the States. And this damned +crooked luck went right along with him. He was in a big apartment, now, +up on Fifth Avenue and four-flushing toward every point of the +compass. His last stunt was 'patron of science.' He'd gotten into the +Geographical Society, and he was laying lines for the Royal Society in +London. He had a Harvard don working over in the Metropolitan library, +building him a thesis! + +"The thing made me ugly. I wanted to have a plain talk with the devil. +He wasn't playing fair. Old Nute couldn't have been worth the whole run +of us; I've legged some myself, and I had a right to be heard. The devil +ought to make old Nute split up with Charlie. True, Charlie belonged in +the other camp, but I didn't. And if I wanted a little favor I felt that +the devil ought to come across with it... I put it up to him, or down to +him, as you'd say, while I sat there in that taxi." + +There was a grim energy in Barclay's face. He was no ordinary person. + +"I got Tavor up to my apartment, and a goblet of brandy in him. I never +saw anybody look like Tavor as he sat there propped up in the chair with +a lot of cushions around him. It was winter and cold. He had no clothes +to speak of, but he did not seem to notice either the cold outside or +the heat in the apartment, as though, somehow, he couldn't tell the +difference. + +"And he was the strangest color that any human being ever was in the +world. I've said that he looked like plaster, and he did look like it, +but he looked like a plaster man with a thin coat of tan colored paint +on him." + +Barclay paused. + +"It's hardly a wonder that no message reached me. The devil couldn't +have got word out of the hell land he'd been in. Lost is no name for it. +He'd been all over the Shamo, and the big Sahara's a park to it. He'd +been North to the Kangai where they used to get the gold that the +caravans carried across the Shamo, and he'd followed the old trails +South to the great wall. + +"It's all a Satan's country. I don't know why God Almighty wanted to +make a hell hole like the Shamo!" + +He paused, then he went on. + +"But it wasn't in the Shamo that Tavor got track of the thing he was +after. He said that the age he was trying to get back into was much +more remote than he imagined. It must have been a good many thousands +of years ago. He couldn't tell; long before anything like dependable +history at any rate.... There must have been an immense age of great +oriental splendor in the South of Asia and along the East African coast, +dying out at about the time our knowledge of human history begins." + +Barclay went on, unmoving before the fire. + +"I don't know why we imagine that the legends of a little tribe in Syria +running back to the fifth or sixth century begins the world.... Anyway, +Tavor got the notion, as I have said, of an age in decay at about the +time these legends start in; with a trade moving west. + +"He nosed it all out! God knows how. Of course it was only a +theory--only a notion in fact. He hadn't anything to go on that I could +see. But after two years' drifting about in the Shamo, this is how he +finally figured it: + +"Northern Asia traded gold in the west; the mined product would be +molded into bricks in lower Mongolia. It was then carried over land +to the southwest coast of Arabia. There was some great center of world +commerce low down on the Red Sea about eight hundred miles south of Port +Said. + +"Tavor said that when he began to think about the thing the caravan +route was pretty clear to him. Arabia seemed to have been connected, +in that remote age, with Persia at the Strait of Ormus, so there was +a direct overland route.... That put another notion into Tavor's head; +these treasure caravans must have crossed the immense Sandy Desert of +El-Khali. And this notion developed another; if one were seeking the +wreck of any one of these treasure caravans he would be more likely to +find it in the El-Khali than in the Shamo." + +Barclay moved away from the fire, got a chair and sat down. He was +across the hearth from me. He looked about the room and at the curtained +windows that shut out the blue night. + +"You can't sleep," he went on, "so I might just as well tell you this. +A good deal of it is what the lawyers called dicta... obiter dicta; when +the judge gets to putting in stuff on the side ... but it's a long time +'til daylight." + +He had taken a small chair and he sat straight in it after the manner of +a big man. + +"You see the treasure carried south across the Shamo would be 'gold +wheat' (dust, we'd call it), packed in green skins... you couldn't find +that. But the caravans crossing the El-Khali would carry this gold in +bricks for the great west trade. Now a gold brick is indestructible; +you can't think of anything that would last forever like a gold brick. +Nothing would disturb it, water and sun are alike without effect on +it.... + +"That was Tavor's notion, and he went right after it. Most of us would +have slacked out after two years in the hell hole of Central Mongolia. +But not Charlie Tavor. He got down to Arabia somehow; God knows, I never +asked him,--and he went right on into the Great Sandy Desert of Roba El +Khali. The oldest caravan route known runs straight across the desert +from Muscat to Mecca. It's a thousand miles across--but you can strike +the line of it nearly four hundred miles west in a hundred miles travel +by going due South from the coast between fifty and fifty-five degrees. + +"You'll find this old caravan route drawn on the map, a dead straight +line across the thirty-third parallel. But the man that put it on there +never traveled over it. He doesn't know whether it is a sunken plateau, +or an elevated plateau, or what the devil it is that this old route runs +across. And he doesn't know what the earth's like in the great basin of +the El-Khali; maybe it's sand and maybe it's something else." + +Barclay stopped and looked queerly at me. + +"The Doctor Cooks have put a lot of stuff over on us. The fact is, +there's six million square miles of the earth's surface that nobody +knows anything about." + +He got a package of American cigarettes out of his pocket, selected one +and lighted it with a fragment of the box thrust into the fire. + +"That's where Tavor was the last year. When the ambulance picked him up, +he'd crawled around the Horn in a Siamese tramp." + +He paused. + +"Great people, the English; no fag-out to them. Look how Scott went on +in the Antarctic with his feet frozen... It's in the blood; it was in +Tavor. + +"I sat there that winter night in my room in New York while he told me +all about it. + +"It was morning when he finished--the milk wagons were on the +street,--and then, he added, quite simply, as though it were a matter of +no importance, + +"'But I can't go back, Barclay, old man; my tramping's over. That was no +fit I had on the dock.' + +"He looked at me with his dead eyes in his tan-colored plaster face. +You've heard of the hemp-chewers and the betel-chewers; well, all that's +baby-food to a thing they've got in the Shamo. It's a shredded root, +bitter like cactus, and when you chew it, you don't get tired and you +don't get hot... you go on and you don't know what the temperature +is. Then some day, all at once, you go down, cold all over like a dead +man... that time you don't die, but the next time..." + +Barclay snapped his fingers without adding the word.' + +"And you can calculate when the second one will strike you. It's a +hundred and eighty-one days to the hour." + +Then he added: + +"That was the first one on the dock. Tavor had six months to live." + +The big man broke the cigarette in his fingers and threw the pieces into +the fire. Then he turned abruptly toward me. + +"And I know where he wanted to live for those six months. The old dream +was still with him. He wanted that country house in his native county +in England, with the formal garden and the lackeys. The finish didn't +bother him, but he wanted to round out his life with the dream that he +had carried about with him. + +"I put him to bed and went down into Broadway, and walked about all +night. Tavor couldn't go back and he had to have a bunch of money. + +"It was no good. I couldn't see it. I went back Tavor was up and I sat +him down to a cross examination that would have delighted the soul of a +Philadelphia lawyer." + +Barclay paused. + +"It was all at once that I saw it--like you'd snap your fingers. It +was an accident of Charlie's talk... one of those obiter dicta, that +I mentioned a while ago. But I stopped Charlie and went over to the +Metropolitan Library; there I got me an expert--an astronomer chap, as +it happened, reading calculus in French for fun--I gave him a twenty and +I looked him in the eye. + +"Now, Professor,' I said, 'this dope's got to be straight stuff, I'm +risking money on it; every word you write has got to be the truth, and +every line and figure that you put on your map has got to be correct +with a capital K.'" + +"'Surely,' he said, 'I shall follow Huxley for the text and I shall +check the chart calculations for error.' + +"'And there's another thing, professor. You've got to go dumb on this +job, for which I double the twenty.' He looked puzzled, but when he +finally understood me, he said 'Surely' again, and I went back to my +apartment. + +"'Charlie,' I said, 'how much money would it take for this English +country life business?' + +"His eyes lighted up a little. + +"'Well, Barclay, old man,' he replied, 'I've estimated it pretty +carefully a number of times. I could take Eldon's place for six months +with the right to purchase for two thousand dollars paid down; and +I could manage the servants and the living expenses for another four +thousand. I fear I should not be able to get on with a less sum than six +thousand dollars.' + +"Then," he added--he was a child to the last--"perhaps Mr. Hardman will +now be able to advance it; he promised me 'a further per cent'," those +were his words, when the matter was finally concluded. + +"Then ten thousand would do?" + +"My word,' he said, 'I should go it like a lord on ten thousand. Do you +think Mr. Hardman would consider that sum?' + +"'I'm going to try him,' I said, 'I've got some influence in a quarter +that he depends on.' + +"And I went out. I went down to my bank and got twenty U. S. bonds of +a thousand each. At five o'clock, the professor had his dope ready--the +text and the chart, neatly folded in a big manilla envelope with a +rubber band around it. And that evening I went up to see old Nute." + +Barclay got another cigarette. There was a queer cynicism in his big +pitted face. + +"The church bunch," he said, "have got a strange conception of the +devil; they think he's always ready to lie down on his friends. That's +a fool notion. The devil couldn't do business if he didn't come across +when you needed him. + +"And there's another thing; the old-timers, when they went after their +god for a favor, always began by reciting what they'd done for him.... +That was sound dope! I tried it myself on the way up to old Nute's +apartment on Fifth Avenue. + +"I went over a lot of things. And whenever I made a point, I rapped it +on the pavement with the ferule of my walking stick; as one would say, +'you owe me for that!' + +"You see I was worked up about Tavor. When a man's carried a dream over +all the hell he'd pushed through he ought to have it in the end." + +Barclay paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +"You know the swell apartments on Fifth Avenue; no name, only a number; +every floor a residence, only the elevators connecting them. I found old +Nute in the seventh; and I was bucked the moment I got in. + +"The door from the drawing room to the library was open. The Harvard don +was going out, the one Nute had employed to get up his thesis for the +Royal Society of London--I mentioned him a while ago. And I heard his +final remark, flung back at the door. 'What you require, Sir, is +the example case of some new exploration--one that you have yourself +conducted.' + +"That bucked me; the devil was on the job!" + +Barclay stopped again. He sat for a moment watching the smoke from the +cigarette climb in a blue mist slowly into the beautiful fresco of the +ceiling. + +"I told old Nute precisely what I've told you. How I'd backed Tavor for +his last adventure, and where he'd been; all over Central Mongolia and +finally across the Great Sandy Desert of El-Khali. And I told him what +Charlie was after; the theory he started with and his final conclusion +when he made his last push along the old caravan route west from Muscat. + +"I went into the details, and the big notion that Tavor had slowly +pieced together; how the gold was mined in the ranges south of Siberia, +carried in green skins to lower Mongolia, melted there and taken for +trade Southwest across the El-Khali to an immense Babylon of Commerce of +which the present Mecca is perhaps a decadent residuum. + +"I put it all in; the accessibility of this desert from the coast +on three sides, how the old caravan route parallels the thirty-third +meridian and how Charlie struck it four hundred miles out into the +desert in a hundred miles travel due south in longitude between 50 and +55 degrees; all the details of Tavor's hunt for the wreck of one of +these treasure caravans. + +"Old Nute looked at me with his little hard eyes slipping about. + +"'And he didn't find it?' he said. + +"I didn't answer that. I went ahead and told him how I found Tavor and +the shape he was in, and then I added, 'I'm not an explorer, and Charlie +can't go back.' + +"Old Nute's thick neck shot out at that. + +"'Then he did find it?' he said. + +"'Now look here, Nute,' I said, 'you're not trading with Tavor on this +deal. You're trading with me and I'm just as slick as you are. You'll +get no chance to slip under on this. You forget all I've told you just +as though it had nothing to do with what I'm going to tell you, and I'll +come to the point.' + +"'Forget it?' he said. + +"'Yes,' I said, 'forget it. I'm not going to put you on to what Charlie +knows, with any strings to it, or with any pointers that you can run +down without us. I've told you all about Tavor's big hunt through the +Shamo and the El-Khali for a purpose of my own and not for the purpose +of enabling you to locate the thing that Charlie Tavor knows about.' + +"Hardman's voice went down into a low note. 'What does he know?' he +said. + +"I looked him squarely in the little reptilian eyes. 'He knows where +there is a treasure in gold equal in our money to three hundred thousand +dollars!' + +"Old Nute's little eyes focused into his nose an instant. Then he took a +chance at me. + +"'What's the country like?' + +"I went on as though I didn't see the drift. + +"'Tavor says this area of the earth's surface is a great plain +practically level, sloping gradually on one side and rising gradually on +the other.' + +"'Sand?' said Nute. + +"'No,' I replied, 'Tavor says that contrary to the common notion, this +plain is not covered with sand, it's a kind of chalk deposit.' + +"'Hard to get to?' + +"Old Nute shot the query in with a little quick duck of his head. + +"I went straight on with the answer. + +"'Tavor says it's about a five or six days' journey from a sea coast +town.' + +"'Hard traveling?' + +"'No, Tavor says you can get within two miles of the place without any +difficulty whatever--he says anybody can do it. The only difficulties +are on the last two miles. But up to the last two miles, it's a holiday +journey for a middle-aged woman.' + +"Old Nute grunted. He put his fat hands together over his waistcoat and +twiddled his thumbs. + +"'Well,'; he said, 'what's in your mind about it?' + +"We were now up to the trade and I stated the terms. + +"'It's like this,' I said, 'Tavor's down and out. He's got only six +months to live. Fifth Avenue piled full of gold won't do him any good if +he's got to wait for it. What he wants is a little money quick!' + +"Old Nute's eyes squinted. + +"'How much money?' he said. + +"'Well,' I said, 'Tavor will turn his map over to you for ten thousand +dollars... Death's crowding him.' + +"Old Nute's fat fingers began to drum on his waistcoat. + +"'How do I know the gold's there and the map's straight?' + +"'Did you ever know Tavor to lie?' I said. + +"'No,' he said, 'Tavor's not a liar; but I am a business man, Mr. +Barclay, and in business we do not go on verbal assurances, no matter +how unquestioned.' + +"'That's right,' I replied, 'I'm a business man, too; that's why I came +instead of sending Tavor.... you found out he wasn't a business man in +the first deal.' + +"Then I took my 'shooting irons' out of my pocket and laid them on the +table. + +"There,' I said, 'are twenty, one-thousand United States bonds, not +registered,' and I put my hand on one of the big manilla envelopes; +'and here,' I said, 'is an accurate description of the place where this +treasure lies and a map of the route to it,' and I put my hand on the +other. + +"'Now,' I went on, 'I believe every word of this thing. Charles Tavor is +the best all-round explorer in the world. I've known him a lifetime +and what he says goes with me. We'll put up this bunch of stuff with a +stakeholder for the term of a year, and if the gold isn't there and if +the map showing the route to it isn't correct and if every word I've +said about it isn't precisely the truth, you take down my bonds and keep +them.' + +"Old Nute got up and walked about the room. I knew what he was thinking. +'Here's another one of them--there's all kinds.' + +"But it hooked him. We wrote out the terms and put the stuff up with old +Commodore Harris--the straightest sport in America. Nute had the right +to copy the map, and the text and a year to verify it. And I took the +ten thousand back to Charlie Tavor." + +Barclay got up and went over to the window. He drew back the heavy +tapestry curtains. It was morning; the blue dawn was beginning to +illumine Monaco and the polished arc of the sea. He stood looking down +into it, holding the curtain in his hand. + +"I give the devil his due for that, Sir Henry," he said. "Charlie +Tavor got his dream at the end; he died like a gentleman in his English +country house with the formal garden and the lackeys." + +"And the other man got the treasure?" I said. Barclay replied without +moving. + +"No, he didn't get it." + +"Then you lost your bonds?" + +"No, I didn't lose them; Commodore Harris handed them back to me on the +last day of the year." + +I sat up in my big lounge chair. + +"Didn't Hardman make a fight for them; if he didn't find the +treasure--didn't he squeal?" + +Barclay turned about, drawing the curtain close behind him. + +"And be laughed out of the high-brow bunch that he was trying to get +into?... I said old Nute was a crook, but I didn't say he was a fool." + +I turned around in the chair. + +"I don't understand this thing, Barclay. If the treasure was there, +and you gave Hardman a correct map of the route to it, and it lay on a +practically level plain, and he could get within two miles of it without +difficulty in four or five days' travel from a sea coast town, why +couldn't he get it? Was it all the truth?" + +"It was every word precisely the truth," he said. + +"Then why couldn't he get it?" + +Barclay looked down at me; his big pitted face was illumined with a +cynical smile. + +"Well, Sir Henry," he said, "'the trouble is with those last two miles. +They're water... straight down. The level plain is the bed of the +Atlantic ocean and that gold is in the hold of the Titanic." + + + + +XI.-American Horses + + +The thing began in the colony room of the Empire Club in London. The +colony room is on the second floor and looks out over Piccadilly Circus. +It was at an hour when nobody is in an English club. There was a drift +of dirty fog outside. Such nights come along in October. + +Douglas Hargrave did not see the Baronet until he closed the door behind +him. Sir Henry was seated at a table, leaning over, his face between his +hand, and his elbows resting on the polished mahogany board. There was +a sheet of paper on the table between the Baronet's elbows. There were a +few lines written on the paper and the man's faculties were concentrated +on them. He did not see the jewel dealer until that person was half +across the room, then he called to him. + +"Hello, Hargrave," he said. "Do you know anything about ciphers?" + +"Only the trade one that our firm uses," replied the jewel dealer. "And +that's a modification of the A B C code." + +"Well," he said, "take a look at this." + +The jewel dealer sat down at the other side of the table and the Baronet +handed him the sheet of paper. The man expected to see a lot of queer +signs and figures; but instead he found a simple trade's message, as it +seemed to him. + +P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlow from N. +Y. + +Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up. + +"Well," said the jewel dealer, "somebody's going to ship nine hundred +horses. Where's the mystery?" + +The Baronet shrugged his big shoulders. + +"The mystery," he said, "is everywhere. It's before and after and in the +body of this message. There's hardly anything to it but mystery." + +"Who sent it?" said Hargrave. + +"That's one of the mysteries," replied the Baronet. + +"Ah!" said the jewel dealer. "Who received it?" + +"That's another," he answered. + +"At any rate," continued Hargrave, "you know where you got it." + +"Right," replied the Baronet. "I know where I got it." He took three +newspapers out of the pocket of his big tweed coat. "There it is," he +said, "in the personal column of three newspapers--today's Times printed +in London; the Matin printed in Paris; and a Dutch daily printed in +Amsterdam." + +And there was the message set up in English, in two sentences precisely +word for word, in three newspapers printed on the same day in London, +Paris and Amsterdam. + +"It seems to be a message all right," said Hargrave: "But why do you +imagine it's a cipher?" + +The Baronet looked closely at the American jewel dealer for a moment. + +"Why should it be printed in English in these foreign papers," he said, +"if it were not a cipher?" + +"Perhaps," said Hargrave, "the person for whom it's intended does not +know any other language." + +The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + +"The persons for whom this message is intended," he said, "do not +confine themselves to a single language. It's a pretty well-organized +international concern." + +"Well," said Hargrave, "it doesn't look like a mystery that ought +to puzzle the ingenuity of the Chief of the Criminal Investigation +Department of the metropolitan police." He nodded to Sir Henry. "You +have only to look out for the arrival of nine hundred horses and when +they get in to see who takes them off the boat. The thing looks easy." + +"It's not so easy as it looks," replied the Baronet. "Evidently these +horses might go to France, Holland or England. That's the secret in this +message. That's where the cipher comes in. The name of the port is in +that cipher somewhere." + +"But you can, watch the steamer," said Hargrave, "the Don Carlos." + +The Baronet laughed. + +"There's no such steamer!" He got up and began to walk round the table. +"Nine hundred horses," he said. "This thing has got to stop. They're on +the sea now, on the way over from America: We have got to find out where +they will go ashore." + +He stopped, stooped over and studied the message which he had written +out and which also lay before him in the three newspapers. + +"It's there," he said, "the name of the port of arrival, somewhere in +those two sentences. But I can't get at it. It's no cipher that I have +ever heard of. It's no one of the hundred figure or number ciphers that +the experts in the department know anything about. If we knew the port +of arrival we could pick up the clever gentleman who comes to take away +the horses. But what's the port--English, French or Dutch? There are a +score of ports." He struck the paper with his hand. "It's there, my word +for it, if we could only decode the thing." + +Then he stood up, his face lifted, his fingers linked behind his +back. He crossed the room and stood looking out at the thin yellow fog +drifting over Piccadilly Circus. Finally he came back, gathered up his +papers and put them in the pocket of his big tweed coat. + +"There's one man in Europe," he said, "who can read this thing. That's +the Swiss expert criminologist, old Arnold, of Zurich. He's lecturing at +the Sorbonne in Paris. I'm going to see him." + +Then he went out. + +Now that, as has been said, is how the thing began. It was the first +episode in the series of events that began to go forward on this +extraordinary night. One will say that the purchasing agent for a great +New York jewel house ought to be accustomed to adventures. The writers +of romance have stimulated that fancy. But the fact is that such persons +are practical people. They never do any of the things that the story +writers tell us. They never carry jewels about with them. Of course they +know the police departments of foreign cities. All jewel dealers make a +point of that. Hargrave's father was an old friend of Sir Henry Marquis, +chief of the C. I. D., and the young man always went to see him when he +happened in London. That explains the freedom of his talk to Hargrave on +this night in the Empire Club in Piccadilly. + +The young man went over and sat down by the fire. The big room was +empty. The sounds outside seemed muffled and distant. The incident that +had just passed impressed him. He wondered why people should imagine +that a purchasing agent of a jewel house must be a sort of expert in the +devices of mystery. As has been said, the thing's a notion. Everything +is shipped through reliable transportation companies and insured. There +was much more mystery in a shipload of horses--the nine hundred horses +that were galloping through the head of Sir Henry Marquis--than in all +the five prosaic years during which young Hargrave had succeeded his +father as a jewel buyer. The American was impressed by this mystery of +the nine hundred horses. Sir Henry had said it was a mystery in every +direction. + +Now, as he sat alone before the fire in the colony room of the Empire +Club and thought about it, the thing did seem inexplicable. Why should +the metropolitan police care who imported horses, or in what port a +shipload of them was landed? The war was over. Nobody was concerned +about the importation of horses. Why should Sir Henry be so disturbed +about it? But he was disturbed; and he had rushed off to Paris to see an +expert on ciphers. That seemed a tremendous lot of trouble to take. The +Baronet knew the horses were on the sea coming from America, he said. If +he knew that much, how could he fail to discover the boat on which +they were carried and the port at which they would arrive? Nobody could +conceal nine hundred horses! + +Hargrave was thinking about that, idly, before the glow of the coal +fire, when the second episode in this extraordinary affair arrived. + +A steward entered. + +"Visitor, please," he said, "to see Mr. Hargrave." + +Then he presented his tray with a card. The jewel dealer took the card +with some surprise. Everybody knew that he was at the Empire Club. It is +a colony thing with chambers for foreign guests. A list of arrivals is +always printed. He saw at a glance that it was not a man's card; the +size was too large. Then he turned it over before the light of the fire. +The name was engraved in script, an American fashion at this time. + +The woman's card had surprised him; but the name on it brought him up +in his chair--"Mrs. A. B. Farmingham." It was not a name that he knew +precisely; but he knew its genera, the family or group to which it +belonged. Mr. Jefferson removed titles of nobility in the American +republic, but his efforts did not eliminate caste zones. It only made +the lines of cleavage more pronounced. One knew these zones by the name +formation. Everybody knew "Alfa Baba" Farmingham, as the Sunday Press +was accustomed to translate his enigmatical initials. Some wonderful +Western bonanza was behind the man. Mrs. "Alfa Baba" Farmingham would +be, then, one of the persons that Hargrave's house was concerned to +reach. He looked again at the card. In the corner the engraved address, +"Point View, Newport," was marked out with a pencil and "The Ritz" +written over it. + +He got his coat and hat and followed the steward out of the club. There +was a carriage at the curb. A footman was holding the door open, and a +woman, leaning over in the seat, was looking out. She was precisely what +Hargrave expected to see, one of those dominant, impatient, aggressive +women who force their way to the head of social affairs in America. She +shot a volley of questions at him the moment he was before the door. + +"Are you Douglas Hargrave, the purchasing agent for Bartholdi & Banks?" + +The man said that he was, and at her service, and so forth. But she did +not stop to listen to any reply. + +"You look mighty young, but perhaps you know your business. At any rate, +it's the best I can do. Get in." + +Hargrave got in, the footman closed the door, and the carriage turned +into Piccadilly Circus. The woman did not pay very much attention to +him. She made a laconic explanation, the sort of explanation one would +make to a shopkeeper. + +"I want your opinion on some jewels," she said. "I have a lot to do--no +time to fool away. When I found that I could see the jewels to-night I +concluded to pick you up on my way down. I didn't find out about it in +time to let you know." + +Hargrave told her that he would be very glad to give her the benefit of +his experience. + +"Glad, nonsense!" she said. "I'll pay your fee. Do you know a jewel when +you see it?" + +"I think I do, madam," he replied. + +She moved with energy. + +"It won't do to think," she said. "I have got to know. I don't buy +junk." + +He tried to carry himself up to her level with a laugh. + +"I assure you, madam," he said, "our house is not accustomed to buy +junk. It's a perfectly simple matter to tell a spurious jewel." + +And he began to explain the simple, decisive tests. But she did not +listen to him. + +"I don't care how a vet knows that a hunter's sound. All that I want to +be certain about is that he does know it. I don't want to buy hunters on +my own hook. Neither do I want to buy jewels on what I know about +them. If you know, that's all I care about it. And you must know or old +Bartholdi wouldn't trust you. That's what I'm going on." + +She was a big aggressive woman, full of energy. Hargrave could not see +her very well, but that much was abundantly clear. The carriage turned +out of Piccadilly Circus, crossed Trafalgar Square and stopped before +Blackwell's Hotel. Blackwell's has had a distinct clientele since +the war; a sort of headquarters for Southeastern European visitors to +London. + +When the carriage stopped Mrs. Farmingham opened the door herself, +before the footman could get down, and got out. It was the restless +American impatience always cropping out in this woman. + +"Come along, young man," she said, "and tell me whether this stuff is O. +K. or junk." + +They got in a lift and went up to the top floor of the hotel. Mrs. +Farmingham got out and Hargrave followed her along the hall to a door +at the end of a corridor. He could see her now clearly in the light. She +had gray eyes, a big determined mouth, and a mass of hair dyed as only a +Parisian expert, in the Rue de la Paix, can do it. She went directly to +a door at the end of the corridor, rapped on it with her gloved hand, +and turned the latch before anybody could possibly have responded. + +Hargrave followed her into the room. It was a tiny sitting room, one +of the inexpensive rooms in the hotel. There was a bit of fire in +the grate, and standing by the mantelpiece was, a big old man with +close-cropped hair and a pale, unhealthy face. It was the type of face +that one associates with tribal races in Southeastern Europe. He was +dressed in a uniform that fitted closely to his figure. It was a uniform +of some elevated rank, from the apparent richness of it. There were one +or two decorations on the coat, a star and a heavy bronze medal. The +man looked to be of some importance; but this importance did not impress +Mrs. Farmingham. + +"Major," she said in her direct fashion, "I have brought an expert to +look at the jewels." + +She indicated Hargrave, and the foreign officer bowed courteously. Then +he took two candles from the mantelpiece and placed them on a little +table that stood in the center of the room. + +He put three chairs round this table, sat down in one of them, +unbuttoned the bosom of his coat and took out a big oblong jewel case. +The case was in an Oriental design and of great age. The embroidered +silk cover was falling apart. He opened the case carefully, delicately, +like one handling fragile treasure. Inside, lying each in a little +pocket that exactly fitted the outlines of the stone, were three rows of +sapphires. He emptied the jewels out on the table. + +"Sir," he said, speaking with a queer, hesitating accent, "it saddens +one unspeakably to part with the ancient treasure of one's family." + +Mrs. Farmingham said nothing whatever. Hargrave stooped over the +jewels and spread them out on top of, the table. There were twenty-nine +sapphires of the very finest quality. He had never seen better sapphires +anywhere. He remembered seeing stones that were matched up better; but +he had never seen individual stones that were any finer in anybody's +collection. The foreigner was composed and silent while the American +examined the jewels. But Mrs. Farmingham moved restlessly in her chair. + +"Well," she said, "are they O. K.?" + +"Yes, madam," said Hargrave; "they are first-class stones." + +"Sure?" she asked. + +"Quite sure, madam," replied the American. "There can be no question +about it." + +"Are they worth eighteen thousand dollars?" + +She put the question in such a way that Hargrave understood her +perfectly. + +"Well," he said, "that depends upon a good many conditions. But I'm +willing to say, quite frankly, that if you don't want the jewels I'm +ready to take them for our house at eighteen thousand dollars." + +The big, dominant, aggressive woman made the gesture of one who cracks a +dog whip. + +"That's all right," she said. Then she turned to the foreigner. "Now, +major, when do you want this money?" + +The big old officer shrugged his shoulders and put out his hands. + +"To-morrow, madam; to-morrow as I have said to you; before midday I must +return. I can by no means remain an hour longer; my leave of absence +expires. I must be in Bucharest at sunrise on the morning of the twelfth +of October. I can possibly arrive if I leave London to-morrow at midday, +but not later." + +Mrs. Farmingham began to wag her head in a determined fashion. + +"Nonsense," she said, "I can't get the money by noon. I have telegraphed +to the Credit Lyonnais in Paris. I can get it by the day after +to-morrow, or perhaps to-morrow evening." + +The foreigner looked down on the floor. + +"It is impossible," he said. + +The woman interrupted him. + +"Now, major, that's all nonsense! A day longer can't make any +difference." + +He drew himself up and looked calmly at her. + +"Madam," he said, "it would make all the difference in the world. If I +should remain one day over my time I might just as well remain all the +other days that are to follow it." + +There was finality and conviction in the man's voice. Mrs. Farmingham +got up and began to walk about the room. She seemed to speak to +Hargrave, although he imagined that she was speaking to herself. + +"Now this is a pretty how-de-do," she said "Lady Holbert told me about +this find to-night at dinner. She said Major Mikos wanted the money at +once; but I didn't suppose he wanted it cash on the hour like that. She +brought me right away after dinner to see him. And then I went for you." +She stopped, and again made the gesture as of one who, cracks a dog +whip. "Now what shall I do?" she said. + +The last remark was evidently not addressed to Hargrave. It was not +addressed to anybody. It was merely the reflection of a dominant nature +taking counsel with itself. She took another turn about the room. Then +she pulled up short. + +"See here," she said, "suppose you take these jewels and give the major +his money in the morning. Then I'll buy them of you." + +"Very well, madam," said Hargrave; "but in that event we shall charge +you a ten per cent commission." + +She stormed at that. + +"Eighteen hundred dollars?" she said. "That's absurd, ridiculous! I'm +willing to pay you five hundred dollars." + +The American did not undertake to argue the matter with her. + +"We don't handle any sale for a less commission," he said. + +Then he explained that he could not act as any sort of agent in the +matter; that the only thing he could do would be to buy the jewels +outright and resell them to her. His house would not make any sale for +a less profit than ten per cent. Hargrave did not propose to be involved +in any but a straight-out transaction. He was quite willing to buy +the sapphires for eighteen thousand dollars. There was five thousand +dollars' profit in them on any market. He was perfectly safe either way +about. If Mrs. Farmingham made the repurchase there was a profit of ten +per cent. If not, there was five thousand dollars' profit in the bargain +under any conditions. + +They were Siamese stones, and the cutting was of an old design. They +were not from any stock in Europe. Hargrave knew what Europe held of +sapphires. These were from some Oriental stock. And everybody bought an +Oriental stone wherever he could get it. How the seller got it did not +matter. Nobody undertook to verify the title of a Siamese trader or a +Burma agent. + +Mrs. Farmingham walked about for several minutes, saying over to herself +as she had said before: + +"Now what shall I do?" + +Then like the big, dominant, decisive nature that she was she came to a +conclusion. + +"All right," she said, "bring in the money in the morning and get the +sapphires. I'll take them up in a day or two. Good-by, major; come +along, Mr. Hargrave." And she went out of the room. + +The American stopped at the door to bow to the old Rumanian officer who +was standing up beside the table before the heap of sapphires. They got +into the carriage at the curb before Blackwell's Hotel. Mrs. Farmingham +put Hargrave down at the Empire Club, and the carriage passed on, across +Piccadilly Circus toward the Ritz. + +The following morning Hargrave got the sapphires from Major Mikos, and +paid him eighteen thousand dollars in English sovereigns for them. He +wanted gold to carry back with him for the jewels that he had brought +out of the kingdom of Rumania. He seemed a simple, anxious person. He +wished to carry his treasures with him like a peasant. The sapphires +looked better in the daylight. There ought to have been seven thousand +dollars' profit in them, perhaps more; seven thousand dollars, at any +rate, that very day in the London market. Hargrave took them to the +Empire Club and put them in a sealed envelope in the steward's safe. + +The thin drift of yellow remained in the city; that sulphurous haze +that the blanket of sea fog, moving over London, presses down into her +streets. It was not heavy yet; it was only a mist of saffron; but it +threatened to gather volume as the day advanced. + +At luncheon Hargrave got a note from Mrs. Farmingham, a line scrawled +on her card to say that she would call for him at three o'clock. +Her carriage was before the door on the stroke of the hour, and she +explained that the money to redeem the jewels had arrived. The Credit +Lyonnais had sent it over from Paris. She seemed a bit puzzled about it. +She had telegraphed the Credit Lyonnais yesterday to send her eighteen +thousand dollars. And she had expected that the French banking house +would have arranged for the payment of the money through its English +correspondent. But its telegram directed her to go to the United +Atlantic Express Company and receive the money. + +A few minutes cleared the puzzle. The office of the company is on the +Strand above the Savoy. Mrs. Farmingham went to the manager and showed +him a lot of papers she had in an official-looking envelope. After a +good bit of official pother the porters carried out a big portmanteau, a +sort of heavy leather traveling case, and put it into the carriage. Mrs. +Farmingham came to Hargrave where he stood by the door. + +"Now, what do you think!" she said. "Of all the stupid idiots, give me +a French idiot to be the stupidest; they have actually sent me eighteen +thousand dollars in gold!" + +"Well," said Hargrave, "perhaps you asked them to send you eighteen +thousand dollars in gold." + +She closed her mouth firmly for a moment and looked him vacantly in the +face. + +"What did I do?" she said, in the old manner of addressing an inquiry +to herself. "The major wanted gold and perhaps I said gold. Why, yes, I +must have said I wanted eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Well, at any +rate, here's the money to pay you for the sapphires. I'll telegraph +the Credit Lyonnais to send me your eighteen hundred, and you can come +around to the Ritz for it in the morning." + +She wished Hargrave to see that the telegram was properly worded, so the +stupid French would not undertake to ship another bag of coin to her. +He wrote it out, so there could be no mistake, and sent it from Charing +Cross on the way back to the club. + +Hargrave had to get two porters to carry the leather portmanteau into +his room at the Empire Club. Mrs. Farmingham did not wait to receive the +sapphires. She said he could bring them over to the Ritz after he had +counted the money. She wanted a cup of tea; he could come along in an +hour. + +It took Hargrave the whole of the hour to verify the money. The case had +been shipped, the straps were knotted tight and the lock was sealed. He +had to get a man from the outside to break the lock open. The man said +it was an American lock and he hadn't any implement to turn it. + +There were eighteen thousand dollars in American twenty-dollar gold +pieces packed in sawdust in the bag. The Credit Lyonnais had followed +Mrs. Farmingham's directions to the letter. Such is the custom of the +stupid French! She had asked for eighteen thousand dollars in gold, and +they had sent her eighteen thousand dollars in gold. Hargrave put one of +the pieces into his waistcoat pocket. He wanted to show Mrs. Farmingham +how strangely the stupid French had made the blunder of doing precisely +what she asked. Then he strapped up the portmanteau, pushed it under the +bed, went out and locked the door. He asked the chief steward to put a +man in the corridor to see that no one went into his room while he was +out. Then he got the sapphires out of the safe and went over to the +Ritz. + +He met Mrs. Farmingham in the corridor coming out to her carriage. + +"Ah, Mr. Hargrave," she said, "here you are. I just told the clerk to +call you up and tell you to bring the sapphires over in the morning when +you came for the draft. I promised Lady Holbert last night to come out +to tea at five. Forgot it until a moment ago." + +She took Hargrave along out to the carriage and he gave her the +envelope. She tore off the corner, emptied the sapphires into her hand, +glanced at them, and dropped them loose into the pocket of her coat. + +"Was the money all right?" she said. + +"Precisely all right," replied the American. "The Credit Lyonnais, +with amazing stupidity, sent you precisely what you asked for in your +telegram." And he showed her the twenty-dollar gold piece. + +"Well, well, the stupid darlings!" Then she laughed in her big, +energetic manner. "I'm not always a fool. Come in the morning at nine. +Good-night, Mr. Hargrave." + +And the carriage rolled across Piccadilly into Bond Street in the +direction of Grosvenor Square and Lady Holbert's. + +The fog was settling down over London. Moving objects were beginning to +take on the loom of gigantic figures. It was getting difficult to see. + +It must have taken Hargrave half an hour to reach the club. The first +man he saw when he went in was Sir Henry, his hands in the pockets of +his tweed coat and his figure blocking the passage. + +"Hello, Hargrave!" he cried. "What have you got in your room that old +Ponsford won't let me go up?" + +"Not nine hundred horses!" replied the American. + +The Baronet laughed. Then he spoke in a lower voice: + +"It's extraordinary lucky that I ran over to the Sorbonne. Come along up +to your room and I'll tell you. This place is filling up with a lot of +thirsty swine. We can't talk in any public room of it." + +They went up the great stairway, lined with paintings of famous +colonials celebrated in the English wars, and into the room. Hargrave +turned on the light and poked up the fire. Sir Henry sat down by the +table. He took out his three newspapers and laid them down before him. + +"My word, Hargrave," he said, "old Arnold is a clever beggar! He cleared +the thing up clean as rain." The Baronet spread the newspapers out +before him. + +"We knew here at the Criminal Investigation Department that this thing +was a cipher of some sort, because we knew about these horses. We had +caught up with this business of importing horses. We knew the shipment +was on the way as I explained to you. But we didn't know the port that +it would come into." + +"Well," said the American, "did you find out?" + +"My word," he cried, "old Arnold laughed in my face. 'Ach, monsieur,' +he cried, mixing up several languages, 'it is Heidel's cipher! It is +explained in the seventeenth Criminal Archive at Gratz. Attend and I +will explain it, monsieur. It is always written in two paragraphs. The +first paragraph contains the secret message, and the second paragraph +contains the key to it. Voila! This message is in two paragraphs: + +"'"P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlos from +N. Y. + +"'"Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up." + +"'The hidden message is made up of certain words and capital letters +contained in the first paragraph, while the presence of the letter t in +the second paragraph indicates the words or capital letters that count +in the first. One has only to note the numerical position of the letter +t in the second paragraph in order to know what capital letter or word +counts in the first paragraph.'" + +The Baronet took out a pencil and underscored the words in the second +paragraph of the printed cipher: "Have the bill of lading handed over to +our agent to check up." + +"You will observe that the second, the eighth and the eleventh words +in this paragraph begin with the letter t. Therefore, the second, the +eighth and the eleventh capital letters or words in the first paragraph +make up the hidden message." + +And again with his pencil he underscored the letters of the first +paragraph of the cipher: "P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight +steamer Don Carlos from N. Y." + +"So we get L, on, Don." + +"London!" cried Hargrave. "The nine-hundred horses are to come into +London!" + +And in his excitement he took the gold piece out of his pocket and +pitched it up. He had been stooping over the table. The fog was creeping +into the room. And in the uncertain light about the ceiling he missed +the gold piece and it fell on the table before Sir Henry. The gold piece +did not ring, it fell dull and heavy, and the big Baronet looked at it +openmouthed as though it had suddenly materialized out of the yellow fog +entering the room. + +"My word!" he cried. "One of the nine hundred horses!" + +Hargrave stopped motionless like a man stricken by some sorcery. + +"One of the nine hundred horses!" he echoed. + +The Baronet was digging at the gold piece with the blade of his knife. + +"Precisely! In the criminal argot a counterfeit American twenty-dollar +gold piece is called a 'horse.' + +"Look," he said, and he dug into the coin with his knife, "it's white +inside, made of Babbit metal, milled with a file and gold-plated. Where +did you get it?" + +The American stammered. + +"Where could I have gotten it?" he murmured. + +"Well," the Baronet said, "you might have got it from a big, old, +pasty-faced Alsatian; that would be 'Dago' Mulehaus. Or you might have +got it from an energetic, middle-aged, American woman posing as a social +leader in the States; that would be 'Hustling' Anne; both bad crooks, at +the head of an international gang of counterfeiters." + + + + +XII. The Spread Rails + + +It was after dinner, in the great house of Sir Henry Marquis in St. +James's Square. + +The talk had run on the value of women in criminal investigation; +their skill as detective agents... the suitability of the feminine +intelligence to the hard, accurate labor of concrete deductions. + +It was the American Ambassadress, Lisa Lewis, who told the story. + + +It was a fairy night, and the thing was a fairy story. + +The sun had merely gone behind a colored window. The whole vault of the +heaven was white with stars. The road was like a ribbon winding through +the hills. In little whispers, in the dark places, Marion told me it. +We sat together in the tonneau of the motor. It was past midnight, of +a heavenly September. We were coming in from a stately dinner at the +Fanshaws'. + +A fairy story is a nice, comfortable human affair. It's about a hero, +and a thing no man could do, and a princess and a dragon. It tells +how the hero found the task that was too big for other men, how he +accomplished it, circumvented the dragon and won the princess. + +The Arabian formula fitted snugly to the facts. + +The great Dominion railroad, extending from Montreal into New York, was +having a run of terrible luck; one frightful wreck followed another. +Nobody could get the thing straightened out. Old Crewe, the railroad +commissioner of New York, was relentless in pressing hard conditions +on the road. Then out of the West, had come young Clinton Howard, big, +tawny, virile, like the race of heroes. He had cleaned out the tangles, +set the thing going, restored order and method; and the confidence of +Canada was flowing back. Then Howard had made love to Marion in +his persistent dominating fashion.... and here, with her whispered +confession, was the fairy story ended. + +Marion pointed her finger out north, where, far across the valley, a +great country-house sat on the summit of a wooded hill. + +"Clinton has discovered the Commissioner's secret, Sarah," she said. +"The safety of the public isn't the only thing moving old Crewe to +hammer the railroad. He pretends it is. But in fact he wishes to get +control of the road in a bankrupt court." + +She paused. + +"Crewe is a Nietzsche creature. Victory is the only thing with him. +Nothing else counts. The way the road was going he would have got it +in the bankrupt court by now. He's howling 'safety first' all over the +country. 'Negligence' is the big word in every report he issues. It +won't do for Clinton to have an accident now that any degree of human +foresight could have prevented." + +"Well," I said, "the dragon will give the hero no further trouble. Dr. +Martin told mother to-day that Mr. Crewe's mind had broken down, and +they had brought him out from New York. He got up in a directors' +meeting and tried to kill the president of the Pacific Trust Company, +with a chair. He went suddenly mad, Dr. Martin said." + +Marion put out her hands in an unconscious gesture. + +"I am not surprised," she said. "That sort of temperament in the strain +of a great struggle is apt to break down and attempt to gain its end by +some act of direct violence." + +Then she added: + +"My grandfather says in his work on evidence that the human mind if +dominated by a single idea will finally break out in some bizarre act. +And he cites the case of the minister who, having maneuvered in vain +to compass the death of the king by some sort of accident, finally +undertook to kill him with an andiron." + +She reflected a moment. + +"I am afraid," she continued, "that the harm is already done. Crewe has +set the whole country on the watch. Clinton says there simply must not +be a slip anywhere now. The road must be safe; he must make it safe." +She repeated her expression. + +"An accident now that any sort of human foresight could prevent would +ruin him." + +"Oh, dear, it's an awful strain on us... on him," she corrected. "He +simply can't be everywhere to see that everything is right and everybody +careful. And besides, there's the finances of the road to keep in shape. +He had to go to Montreal to-day to see about that." + +She leaned over toward me in her eager interest. + +"I don't see how he can sleep with the thing on him. The big trains must +go through on time, and every workman and every piece of machinery must +be right as a clock. I get in a panic. I asked him to-day if he thought +he could run a railroad like that, like a machine, everything in place +on the second, and he said, 'Sure, Mike!'" + +I laughed. + +"'Sure, Mike,"' I said, "is the spirit in which the world is conquered." + +And then the strange attraction of these two persons for one another +arose before me; this big, crude, virile, direct son of the hustling +West, and this delicate, refined, intellectual daughter of New England. +The ancestors of the man had been the fighting and the building pioneer. +And those of the girl, reflective people, ministers of the gospel and +counselors at law. Marion's grandfather had been a writer on the law. +Warfield on Evidence, had been the leading authority in this country. +And this ambitious girl had taken a special course in college to fit +her to revise her grandfather's great work. There was no grandson to +undertake this labor, and she had gone about the task herself. She would +not trust the great book to outside hands. A Warfield had written it, +and a Warfield should keep the edition up. Her revision was now in the +hands of a publisher in Boston, and it was sound and comprehensive, the +critics said; the ablest textbook on circumstantial evidence in America. +I looked in a sort of wonder at this girl, carried off her feet by a +tawny barbarian! + +Marion was absorbed in the thing; and I understood her anxiety. But the +most pressing danger, she did not seem to realize. + +It lay, I thought, in the revenge of a discharged workman. Clinton +Howard had to drop any number of incompetent persons, and they wrote him +all sorts of threatening letters, I had been told. With all the awful +things that happen over the country some of these angry people might do +anything. There are always some half-mad people. + +She went on. + +"But Clinton says the public is as just as Daniel. If he has an accident +in the ordinary course of affairs the public will hold him for it. But +if anything should happen that he could not help, the public will not +hold him responsible." + +I realized the force of that. What reasonable human care could prevent +he must answer for, but the outrage of a criminal would not be taken in +the public mind against him. On the contrary, the sympathy of the public +would flow in. When the people feel that a man is making every effort +for their welfare, the criminal act of an outsider brings them over +wholly to his support. Profound interest carried Marion off her feet. + +"I was in a panic the other day, and Clinton said, 'Don't let rotten +luck get your goat. I'm done if an engineer runs by a block, but nothing +else can put it over on me'!" + +She laughed with me at the direct, virile idiom of young America in +action. + +An event interrupted the discourse. The motor took a sharp curve and a +young man running across the road suddenly flung himself face down in +the grass beyond the curb. + +"Is he hurt?" said Marion to the chauffeur. + +"No, Miss, he's hiding, Miss," said the man, and we swept out of sight. + +I thought it more likely that the creature was in liquor. In spite +of the great country-houses, it was not good hunting-ground for the +criminal class, during the season when everybody was about. The very +number of servants, when a place is open, in a rather effective way, +police it. Besides the young man looked like a sort of workman. One gets +such impressions at a glance. + +The motor descended the long hill toward the river and the flat valley. +It hummed into the curves and hollows, through the pockets of chill air, +and out again into the soft September night. + +Then finally it swept out into the flat valley, and stopped with a grind +of the emergency brake that caused the wheels to skid, ripping up +the dust and gravel. For a moment in the jar and confusion we did not +realize what had happened, then we saw a great locomotive lying on its +side, and a line of Pullmans, sunk to the axles in the soft earth. + +The whole "Montreal Express" was derailed, here in the flat land at the +grade crossing. The thing had been done some time. The fire had been +drawn from the engine; there was only a sputtering of steam. The +passengers had been removed. A wrecking-car had come up from down the +line. A telegrapher was setting up a little instrument on a box by the +roadside. A lineman was climbing a pole to connect his wire. A track +boss with a torch and a crew of men were coming up from an examination +of the line littered with its wreck. + +I hardly know what happened in the next few minutes. We were out of the +motor and among the men almost before the car stopped. + +No one had been hurt. The passenger-coaches were not turned over, and +the engineer and fireman had jumped as the cab toppled. By the greatest +good fortune the train had gone off the track in this low flat land +almost level with the grade. Several things joined to avoid a terrible +disaster; the flat ground that enabled the whole train to plow along +upright until it stopped, the track lying flush with the highway where +the engine went off, and the fact that trains must slow up for this +grade crossing. Had there been an embankment, or a big ditch, or the +train under its usual headway the wreck would have been a horror, for +every wheel, from the engine to the last coach, had left the rails. + +We were an excited group around the train's crew, when the trackman +came up with his torch. Everybody asked the same question as the man +approached. + +"What caused the accident?" + +"Spread rails," he said. "These big brutes," he pointed to the mammoth +engine sprawling like a child's top on its side, the gigantic wheels +in the air, "and these new steel coaches, are awful heavy. There's an +upgrade here. When they struck it, they just spread out the rails." + +And he pushed his closed hands out before him, slowly apart, in +illustration. + +The man knew Marion, for he spoke directly to her in reply to our +concerted query. Then he added "If you step down the track, Miss +Warfield, I'll show you exactly how it happened." + +We followed the big workman with his torch. Marion walked beside him, +and I a few steps behind. The girl had been plunged, on the instant, +headlong into the horror she feared, into the ruin that she had lain +awake over--and yet she met it with no sign, except that grim stiffening +of the figure that disaster brings to persons of courage. She gave no +attention to her exquisite gown. It was torn to pieces that night; my +own was a ruin. The crushing effect of this disaster swept out every +trivial thing. + +In a moment we saw how the accident happened, the workman lighting the +sweep of track with his torch. Here were the plow marks on the wooden +cross ties, where the wheels had run after they left the rails. One saw +instantly that the thing happened precisely as the workman explained +it. When the heavy engine struck the up-grade, the rails had spread, +the wheels had gone down on the cross-ties, and the whole train was +derailed. + +I saw it with a sickening realization of the fact. + +Marion took the workman's torch and went over the short piece of track +on which the thing had happened. All the evidences of the accident were +within a short distance. The track was not torn up when the thing began. +There was only the displaced rail pushed away, and the plow marks of the +wheels on the ties. The spread rails had merely switched the train off +the track onto the level of the highway roadbed into the flat field. + +Marion and the workman had gone a little way down the track. I was quite +alone at the point of accident, when suddenly some one caught my hand. + +I was so startled that I very nearly screamed. The thing happened so +swiftly, with no word. + +There behind me was a woman, an old foreign woman, a peasant from some +land of southern Europe. She had my hand huddled up to her mouth. + +And she began to speak, bending her aged body, and with every expression +of respect. + +"Ah, Contessa, he is not do it, my Umberto. He is run away in fear to +hide in the Barrington quarry. It is accident. It is the doing of the +good God. Ah, Contessa," and her old lips dabbed against my hand. "I +beg him to not go, but he is discharge; an' he make the threat like the +great fool. Ah, Contessa, Contessa," and she went over the words with +absurd repetition, "believe it is by chance, believe it is the doing +of the good God, I pray you." And so she ran on in her quaint old-world +words. + +Instantly I remembered the man lying by the roadside, and the threats of +discharged workmen. + +I told her the thing was a clean accident, and tried to show her how it +came about. She was effusive in gratitude for my belief. But she seemed +concerned about Marion and the others. She did not go away; she went +over and sat down beside the track. + +Presently the others returned. They were so engrossed that they did not +notice my adventure or the aged woman seated on the ground. + +Marion was putting questions to the workman. + +"There was no obstruction on the track?" + +"No, Miss." + +"The engineer was watching?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield, he had to slow up and be careful about the +crossing. There is no curve on this grade, he could see every foot of +the way. The track was clear and in place, and he was watching it. There +was nothing on it.--The rails simply spread under the weight of the +engine." + +And he began to comment on the excessive size and weight of the huge +modern passenger engine. + +"The brute drove the rails apart," he said, "that's all there is to it." + +"Was the track in repair?" said Marion. + +"It was patrolled to-day, Miss, and it was all in shape." + +Then he repeated: + +"The big engine just pushed the rails out." + +"But the road is built for this type of engine," said Marion. + +"Yes, Miss Warfield," replied the man, "it's supposed to be, but every +roadbed gets a spread rail sometimes." + +Then he added: + +"It has to be mighty solid to hold these hundred ton engines on the +rails at sixty miles an hour." + +"It does hold them," said Marion. + +"Yes, Miss Warfield, usually," said the man. + +"Then why should it fail here?" + +The man's big grimy face wrinkled into a sort of smile. + +"Now, Miss Warfield," he said, "if we knew why an accident was likely to +happen at one place more than another we wouldn't have any wrecks." + +"Precisely," replied Marion, "but isn't it peculiar that the track +should spread at the synclinal of this grade with the train running at +a reduced speed, when it holds on the synclinal of other grades with the +train running at full speed?" + +The man's big face continued to smile. + +"All accidents are peculiar, Miss Warfield; that's what makes them +accidents." + +"But," said Marion, "is not the aspect of these peculiarities indicatory +of either a natural event or one designed by a human intelligence?" + +The man fingered his torch. + +"Mighty strange things happen, Miss Warfield. I've seen a train go +over into a canal and one coach lodge against a tree that was standing +exactly in the right place to save it. And I've seen a passenger engine +run by a signal and through a block and knock a single car out of a +passing freight-train, at a crossing, and that car be the very one that +the freight train's brakeman had just reached on his way to the caboose; +just like somebody had timed it all, to the second, to kill him. And +I've seen a whole wreck piled up, as high as a house, on top of a man, +and the man not scratched." + +"I do not mean the coincidence of accident," said Marion, "that is +a mystery beyond us; what I mean is that there must be an organic +difference in the indicatory signs of a thing as it happens in the +course of nature, and as it happens by human arrangement." + +The trackman was a person accustomed to the reality and not the theory +of things. + +"I don't see how the accident would have been any different," he said, +"if somebody had put that tree in the right spot to catch the coach; or +timed the minute with a stop-watch to kill that brakeman; or piled that +wreck on the man so it wouldn't hurt him. The result would have been +just the same." + +"The result would have been the same," replied Marion, "but the +arrangement of events would have been different." + +"Just what way different, Miss Warfield?" said the man. + +"We cannot formulate an iron rule about that," replied Marion, "but as +a general thing catastrophes in nature seem to lack a motive, and their +contributing events are not forced." + +The big trackman was a person of sound practical sense. He knew what +Marion was after, but he was confused by the unfamiliar terms in which +the idea was stated. + +"It's mighty hard to figure out," he said. "Of course, when you find an +obstruction on the track or a crowbar under a rail, or some plain thing, +you know." + +Then he added: + +"You've got to figure out a wreck from what seems likely." + +"There you have it exactly," said Marion. "You must begin your +investigation from what your common experience indicates is likely +to happen. Now, your experience indicates that the rails of a track +sometimes spread under these heavy engines." + +"Yes, Miss Warfield." + +"And your experience indicates that this is more likely to happen at +the first rise of the synclinal on a grade than anywhere on a straight +track." + +"Yes, Miss Warfield." + +"Good!" said Marion, "so far. But does not your experience also indicate +that such an accident usually happens when the train is running at a +high rate of speed?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield," said the man. "It's far more likely to happen +then, because the engine strikes the rails at the first rise of the +grade with more force. Naturally a thing hits harder when it's going... +But it might happen with a slow train." + +Marion made a gesture as of one rejecting the man's final sentence. + +"When you turn that way," she said, "you at once leave the lines of +greatest probability. Why should you follow the preponderance of common +experience on two features here, and turn aside from it on the third +feature?" + +"Because the thing happened," replied the man, with the directness of +those practical persons who drive through to the fact. + +"That is to say an unlikely thing happened!" Marion made a decisive +gesture with her clenched fingers. "Thus, the inquiry, beginning with +two consistent elements, now comes up against one that is inconsistent." + +"But not impossible," said the man. + +"Possible," said Marion, "but not likely. Not to be expected, not in +line with the preponderance of common experience; therefore, not to +be passed. We have got to stop here and try to find out why this track +spread under a slow train." + +"But we see it spread, Miss Warfield," said the trackman with a +conclusive gesture. + +"True," replied Marion, "we see that it did spread, under this +condition, but why?" + +The old woman sitting beside the track seemed to realize what was +under way; for she rose and came over to where I stood. "Contessa," she +whispered, in those quaint, old world words, "do not reveal, what I have +tol'. I pray you!" + +And she followed me across the few steps to where the others stood. + +I did not answer. I stood like one in some Hellenic drama, between +two tragic figures. The love of woman lay in the solution of this +problem--in the beginning and at the end of life. + +Marion and the big track boss continued with this woman looking on. + +I feared to speak or move; the thing was like a sort of trap, set with +ghastly cunning, by some evil Fate. The ruin of a woman it would have. +And perhaps on the vast level plain where it evilly dwelt, through +its hard all-seeing eyes, the ruin and the sorrow either way would be +precisely equal. How could I, then, lay a finger on the scale. + +"Now," said Marion, "when the engine reached this point on the track, +one of the rails gave way first." + +The big workman looked steadily at her. + +"How do you know that, Miss Warfield?" he said. + +"Because," replied Marion, "the marks of the wheels of the locomotive +on the ties are found, in the beginning, only on one side of the track, +showing that the rail on that side gave way, when the engine struck it, +and the other rail for some distance bore the weight of the train." + +She illustrated with her hands. + +"When the one rail was pushed out, the wheels on that side went down and +continued on the ties, while the wheels on the other side went ahead on +the firm rail." + +The workman saw it. + +"That's true, Miss Warfield," he said, "one rail sometimes spreads and +the other holds solid." + +Marion was absorbed in the problem. + +"But why should the one rail give way like this and its companion hold?" + +"One of the rails might not be as solid as the other," said the man. + +"But it should have been nearly as solid," replied Marion. "This piece +of track, you tell me, was examined to-day; the ties are equally +sound on both sides, the rail is the same weight. We have the right to +conclude then that each of these rails was about in the same condition. +I do not say precisely in the same condition. Now, it is true that +under these conditions one of the rails might have been pushed out of +alignment before the other. We can grant a certain factor of difference, +a certain reasonable factor of difference. But not a great factor of +difference. We have a right to conclude that one rail would give way +before the other. But not that one would very readily give way before +the other. For some reason this particular rail did give way, much more +readily than it ought to have done." + +The trackman was listening with the greatest interest. + +"Just how do you know that, Miss Warfield?" he said. + +"Why," replied Marion, "don't you see, from the mark on the ties, that +the engine wheels left the rail almost at the moment they struck it. The +marks of the wheels commence on the second tie ahead of the beginning of +the rail. Therefore, this rail, for some reason, was more easily pushed +out of alignment than it should have been. What was the reason?" + +The track boss reflected. + +"You see, Miss Warfield, this place is the beginning of an up-grade, the +engine was coming down a long grade toward it, so when this train struck +the first rails of the up-grade it struck it just like you'd drive in +a wedge, and the hundred-ton brute of an engine jammed this rail out of +alignment. That's all there is to it. When the rail sprung the wheels +went down on the ties on that side and the train was ditched." + +"It was a clean accident, then, you think?" said Marion. + +"Sure, Miss Warfield," replied the man. "If anybody had tried to move +that rail out of alignment, he would have to disconnect it at the other +end, that is, take off the plate that joins it to the next rail. That +would leave the end of the rail clean, with no broken plate. But the end +of the rail is bent and the plate is twisted off. We looked at that the +first thing. Nobody could twist that plate off. The engine did it when +it left the track. + +"You see, Miss Warfield, the weight of the engine, like a wedge, simply +forced one of these rails out of alignment. Don't you understand how a +hundred ton wedge driven against the track, at the start of an upgrade, +could do it?" + +The old peasant woman stood behind the track boss. The thing was a sort +of awful game. She did not speak, but the vicissitudes of the inquiry +advanced her, or retired her, with the effect of points, won or lost. + +"I understand perfectly," replied Marion, "how the impact of the heavy +engine might drive both rails out of alignment, if they offered an equal +resistance, or one of them out if it offered a less resistance. This is +straight track. The wedge would go in even. It should have spread +the rails equally. That's the probable thing. But instead it did the +improbable thing; it spread one. I hold the improbable thing always in +question. Human knowledge is built up on that postulate. + +"True, a certain factor of difference in conditions must be allowed, as +I have said, but an excessive factor cannot be allowed. We have got +to find it, or discard human reason as an implement for getting at the +truth." + +Again the big track boss smashed through the niceties of logic. + +"These things happen all the time, Miss Warfield. You can't figure it +out." + +"One ought to be able to determine it,"' replied the girl. + +The track boss shook his head. + +"We can't tell what made that rail give." + +"Of course, we can tell," said Marion. "It gave because it was +weakened." + +"But what weakened it?" replied the man. "You can't tell that? The +rail's sound." + +"There could be only two causes," said Marion. "It was either weakened +by a natural agency or a human agency." + +The track boss made an annoyed gesture, like a practical person vexed +with the refinements of a theorist. + +"But how are you going to tell?" + +"Now," said Marion, "there is always a point as you follow a thing down, +where the human design in it must appear, if there is a human design in +it. The human mind can falsify events within a limited area. But if one +keeps moving out, as from a center, he will find somewhere this point at +which intelligence is no longer able to imitate the aspect of the result +of natural forces... I think we have reached it." + +She paused and drove her query at the track boss. + +"The spikes on the outside of this rail held it in place, did they not?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield." + +"Did the impact of the engine force these spikes out of the ties?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield, it forced them out." + +"How do you know it forced them out?" + +"Well, Miss Warfield," said the man, pointing to the rail and the +denuded cross-ties, don't you see they're out?" + +"I see that they are out," replied Marion, "but I do not yet see that +they have been forced out." + +She moved a step closer to the track boss and her voice hardened. "If +these spikes were forced out by the impact of the engine, we ought to +find torn spike holes inclining toward the end of the crossties.... +Look!" + +The big practical workman suddenly realized what the girl meant. + +He stooped over and began to flash his torch along the end of the ties. +We crowded against him. Every one of the spike holes, for the entire +length of the rail, was straight and clean. The man seized one of the +spikes and scrutinized it under his torch. + +Then he stood up. For a moment he did not speak. He merely looked at +Marion. "It's the holy truth!" he said. "Somebody pulled these spikes +with a clawbar. That weakened the rail, and she bowed out when the +engine struck her." + +Then he turned around, and shouted down the track to his crew. "Hey, +boys! Spread out along the right of way and see if you can't find +a claw-bar. The devils that do these tricks always throw away their +tools." + +We stood together in a little tragic group. The old peasant woman came +over to where I stood, she walked with a dead, wooden step. "Contessa," +she whispered, her old lips against my hand. "You will save him?" + +And suddenly with a wild human resentment, I longed to cut a way out of +the trap of this Fatality; to force its ruthless decree into a sort of +equity, if I could do it. + +"Yes," I said, "I will save him!" + +It was an impulse with no plan behind it. But the dabbing of the +withered mouth on my fingers was like actual physical contact with a +human heart. + +For a moment she looked at me as one among the damned might look at +Michael. Then she went slowly away, down through the wooded copse of the +meadow. And I turned about to meet Marion. I knew that she was now after +the identity of the wrecker, and I faced her to foul her lines. + +"This is not the work of one with murder in his heart," she said "A +criminal agent set on a ruthless destruction of property and life would +have drawn these spikes on a trestle or an embankment, at a point where +the train would be running at high speed." + +She paused for a moment, then she went on speaking to me as though she +merely uttered her mental comment to herself. + +"These spikes are drawn at a point where the train slows down for a +crossing and precisely where the engine would go off onto the hard +road-bed of the highway into a level meadow. That means some one planned +this wreck to result in the least destruction of life and property +possible. Now, what class of persons could be after the effect of a +wreck, exclusive of a loss of life?" + +I saw where her relentless deductions would presently lead. This was +precisely the result that a discharged foreign workman would seek in his +reprisal. This man would have hot blood, the southern Europe instinct +for revenge, but with such a mother, no mere lust to kill. I tried to +divert her from the fugitive. + +"Train robbers," I said. "I wonder what was in the express-car?" + +She very nearly laughed. "This is New York," she said, "not Arizona. And +besides there was no express-car. This thing was done by somebody who +wanted the effect of a wreck, and nothing else, and it was done by some +one who knew about railroads. + +"Now, what class of persons who know about railroads could be moved by +that motive?" + +She was driving straight now at the boy I stood to cover. At another +step she would name the class. Discharged workmen would know about +railroads; they would be interested to show how less efficient the +road was without them; and a desperate one might plan such a wreck as +a demonstration. If so, he would wish only the effect of the wreck, +and not loss of life. Marion was going dead ahead on the right line, +in another moment she would remember the man we passed, and the "black +band" letters. I made a final desperate effort to divert her. + +"Come along!" I called, "the first thing to do now is to talk with +Clinton Howard. The nearest telephone will be at Crewe's house on the +hill." + +And it won. + +"Lisa!" she cried, "you're right I We must tell him at once." + +We hurried down the track to the motor-car. I had gained a little time. +But how could I keep my promise. And the next moment the problem became +more difficult. The track boss came up with a short iron bar that his +men had found in the weeds along the right of way. + +"There's the claw-bar, that the devil done it with," he said. + +"You can tell it's just been handled by the way the rust's rubbed off." + +It was conclusive evidence. Everybody could see how the workman's hands, +as he labored with the claw-bar to draw the spikes, had cleaned off the +rust. + +I hurried the motor away. We raced up the long winding road to Crewe's +country-house, sitting like a feudal castle on the summit. And I +wondered, at every moment, how I could keep my promise. The boy was a +criminal, deserving to be hanged, no doubt, but the naked mother's heart +that had dabbed against my fingers overwhelmed me. + +Almost in a flash, I thought, we were in the grounds and before Crewe's +house. Then I noticed lights and a confusion of voices. No one came to +meet us. And we got out of the motor and went in through the open door. +We found a group of excited servants. An old butler began to stammer to +Marion. + +"It was his heart, Miss... the doctor warned the attendants. But he +got away to-night. It was overexertion, Miss. He fell just now as the +attendants brought him in." And he flung open the library door. + +On a leather couch illumined by the brilliant light, Crewe lay; his +massive relentless face with the great bowed nose, like the iron cast +of what Marion had called a Nietzsche creature, motionless in death; his +arms straight beside him with the great gloved hands open. + +And all at once, at the sight, with a heavenly inspiration, I kept my +promise. + +"Look!" I cried. "Oh, everybody, how the palms of his gloves are covered +with rust!" + + + + +XIII. The Pumpkin Coach + + +The story of the American Ambassadress was not the only one related on +this night. + +Sir Henry Marquis himself added another, in support of the contention of +his guest... and from her own country. + + +The lawyer walked about the room. The restraint which he had assumed was +now quite abandoned. + +"That's all there is to it," he said. "I'm not trying this case for +amusement. You have the money to pay me and you must bring it up here +now, tonight." + +The woman sat in a chair beyond the table. She was young, but she looked +worn and faded. Misery and the long strain of the trial had worn her +out. Her hands moved nervously in the frayed coat-cuffs. + +"But we haven't any more money," she said. "The hundred dollars I paid +you in the beginning is all we have." + +The man laughed without disturbing the muscles of his face. "You +can take your choice," he said. "Either bring the money up here now, +to-night, or I withdraw from the case when court opens in the morning." + +"But where am I to get any more money?" the woman said. + +The lawyer was a big man. His hair, black and thin, was brushed close to +his head as though wet with oil; his nose was thick and flattened at +the base. The office contained only a table, some chairs and a file for +legal papers. Night was beginning to descend. Lights were appearing in +the city. The two persons had come in from the Criminal Court after the +session for the day had ended. + +The woman seemed bewildered. She looked at the man with the curious +expression of a child that does not comprehend and is afraid to ask for +an explanation. + +"If we had any more money," she said, "I would bring it to you, but the +hundred dollars was all we had." + +Then she began to explain, reiterating minute details. When the tragedy +occurred and her husband was arrested by the police they had a small +sum painfully saved up. It was now wholly gone. Like persons in profound +misery, she repeated. The man halted the recital with a brutal gesture. + +"I'll not discuss it," he said. "You can bring the money in here before +the court convenes in the morning, or I withdraw from the case." + +He went over to the file, took out a packet of legal papers and threw +them on the table. + +"All right, my lady!" he said, "perhaps you think your husband can get +along without a lawyer. Perhaps you think the devil will save him, or +heaven, or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!" There was biting irony in the +bitter words. + +A sudden comprehension began to appear in the woman's face. She realized +now what the man was driving at. The expression in her face deepened +into a sort of wonder, a sort of horror. + +"You think he's guilty!" she said. "You think we got the money and we're +trying to keep it, to hide it." + +The lawyer turned about, put both hands on the table and leaned across +it. He looked the woman in the face. + +"Never mind what I believe; you heard what I said!" + +For a moment the woman did not move. Then she got up slowly and went +out. In the street she seemed lost. She remained for some time before +the entrance of the building. Night had now arrived. Crowds of people +were passing, intent on their affairs, unconcerned. No one seemed to see +the figure motionless in the shadow of the great doorway. + +Presently the woman began to walk along the street in the crowd without +giving any attention to the people about her or to the direction she was +taking. She was in that state of mental coma which attends persons in +despair. She neither felt nor appreciated anything and she continued to +walk in the direction in which the crowd was moving. + +Some block in the traffic checked the crowd and the woman stopped. The +block cleared and the human tide drifted on, but the woman remained. The +crowd edged her over to the wall and she stood there before the +shutter of a shop-window. After a time the crowd passed, thinned and +disappeared, but the woman remained as though thrown out there by the +human eddy. + +The woman remained for a long time unmoving against the shutter of the +shop-window. Finally she was awakened into life by a voice speaking to +her. It was a soft, foreign voice that lisped the liquid accents of the +occasional English words: + +"Ma pauvre femme!" it said; "come with me. Vous etes malade!" + +The woman followed mechanically in a sort of wonder. The person who had +spoken to her was young and beautifully dressed in furs that covered her +to her feet. She had gotten down from a motorcar that stood beside the +curb--one of those modern vehicles, fitted with splendid trappings. + +Beyond the shop-window was a great cafe. The girl entered and the woman +followed. The attendants came forward to welcome the splendid visitor as +one whose arrival at this precise hour of the evening had become a sort +of custom. She gave some directions in a language which the woman did +not understand, and they were seated at a table. + +The waiters brought a silver dish filled with a clear, steaming soup and +served it. The girl threw back her fur coat and the dazed woman realized +how beautiful she was. Her hair was yellow like ripe corn and there were +masses of it banked and clustered about her head; her eyes were blue, +and her voice, soft and alluring, was like a friendly arm put around the +heart. + +The miserable woman was so confused by this transformation--by the +sudden swing of the door in the wall that had admitted her into this +new, unfamiliar world--that she was never afterward able to remember +precisely by what introductory words her story was drawn out. She found +herself taken up, comforted and made to tell it. + +Her husband had been a butler in the service of a Mr. Marsh, an +eccentric man who lived in one of the old downtown houses of the +city. He was a retired banker with no family. The man lived alone. He +permitted no servants in the house except the butler. Meals were sent +in on order from a neighboring hotel and served by the butler as the man +directed. He received few visitors in the house and no tradespeople were +permitted to come in. There seemed no reason for this seclusion except +the eccentricities of the man that had grown more pronounced with +advancing years. + +It was the custom of the butler to leave the house at eight o'clock in +the evening and return in the morning at seven. On the morning of +the third of February, when the butler entered the house, as he was +accustomed to do at eight o'clock in the morning, he found his master +dead. + +The woman continued with her narrative, speaking slowly. Every detail +was vividly impressed upon her memory and she gave it accurately, +precisely. + +There was a narrow passage or hall, not more than three feet in width, +leading from the butler's pantry into a little dining-room. This +dining-room the old man had fitted up as a sort of library. It was +farther than any other room from the noises of the city. His library +table was placed with one end against the left wall of the room and he +sat with his back toward the passage into the butler's pantry. On the +morning of the third of February he was found dead in his chair. He had +been stabbed in the back, on the left side, where the neck joins to +the shoulder. A carving-knife had been used and a single blow had +accomplished the murder. + +It was known that on the evening before the old banker had taken from a +safety-deposit vault the sum of $20,000, which it was his intention +to invest in some securities. This money, in bills of very large +denominations, was in the top drawer on the right side of the desk. The +dead man had apparently not been touched after the crime, but the drawer +had been pried open and the money taken. An ice-pick from the butler's +pantry had been used to force it. The assassin had left no marks, +finger-prints or tell-tale stains. The victim had been instantly killed +with the blow of the knife which lay on the floor beside him. + +The butler had been arrested, charged with the crime, and his trial was +now going on in the Criminal Court. Circumstantial evidence was strong +against him. The woman spoke as though she echoed the current comment of +the courtroom without realizing how it affected her. She had done what +she could. She had employed an attorney at the recommendation of a +person who had come to interview her. She did not know who the person +was nor why she should have employed this attorney at his suggestion, +except that some one must be had to defend her husband, and uncertain +what to do, she had gone to the first name suggested. + +The girl listened, putting now and then a query. She spoke slowly, +careful to use only English words. And while the woman talked she made +a little drawing on the blank back of a menu card. Now she began to +question the woman minutely about the details of the room and the +position of the furniture where the tragedy had occurred, the desk, +the attitude of the dead man, the location of the wound, and exact +distances. And as the woman repeated the evidence of the police officers +and the experts, the girl filled out her drawing with nice mathematical +exactness like one accustomed to such a labor. + +This was the whole story, and now the woman added the final interview +with the attorney. She made a sort of hopeless gesture. + +"Nobody believes us," she said. "My husband did not kill him. He was at +home with me. He knew nothing about it until he found his master dead +at the table in the morning. But there is only our word against all the +lawyers and detectives and experts that Mr. Thompson has brought against +us." + +"Who is Mr. Thompson?" said the girl. She was deep in a study of her +little drawing. + +"He's Mr. Marsh's nephew, Mr. Percy Thompson." + +The girl, absorbed in the study of her drawing, now put an unexpected +question. + +"Has your husband lost an arm?" + +"No," she said, "he never had any sort of accident." + +A great light came into the girl's face. "Then I believe you," she said. +"I believe every word.... I think your husband is innocent." + +The girl was aglow with an enthusiastic purpose. It was all there in her +fine, expressive face. + +"Now," she said, "tell me about this nephew, this Mr. Percy Thompson. +Could we by any chance see him?" + +"It won't do any good to see him," replied the woman. "He is determined +to convict my husband. Nothing can change him." + +The girl went on without paying any attention to the comment. "Where +does he live--you must have heard?" + +"He lives at the Markheim Hotel," she said. + +"The Markheim Hotel," repeated the girl. "Where is it?" + +The woman gave the street and number. The girl rose. "That's on my way; +we'll stop." + +The two-went out of the cafe to the motor. The whole thing, incredible +at any other hour, seemed to the woman like events happening in a dream +or in some topsy-turvy country which she had mysteriously entered. + +She sat back in the tonneau of the motor, huddled into the corner, a rug +around her shoulders. The flashing lights seemed those of some distant, +unknown city, as though she were transported into the scene of an +Arabian tale. + +The motor stopped before a little shabby hotel in a neighboring +cross-street, and the footman, in livery beside the driver, got down at +a direction of the girl and went up the steps. In a few moments a man +came out and descended to the motor standing by the curb. He was +about middle age. He looked as though Nature had intended him, in the +beginning, for a person of some distinction, but he had the dissipated +face of one at middle age who had devoted his years to a life of +pleasure. There were hard lines about his mouth and a purple network of +veins showing about the base of his nose. + +As he approached the girl, leaning out of the open window of the +tonneau, dropped her glove as by inadvertence. The man stooped, +recovered it and returned it to her. The girl started with a perceptible +gesture. Then she cried out in her charming voice, + +"Merci, monsieur. I stopped a moment to thank you for the flowers you +sent me last night. It was lovely of you!" and she indicated the bunch +of roses pinned to her corsage. + +The man seemed astonished. For a moment he hesitated as though about +to make some explanation, but the girl went on without regarding his +visible embarrassment. + +"You shall not escape with a denial," she said. "There was no card and +you did not do me the honor to wait at the door, but I know you sent +them--an usher saw you; you shall not escape my appreciation. You did +send them?" she said. + +The man laughed. "Sure," he said, "if you insist." He was willing to +profit by this unexpected error, and the girl went on: + +"I have worn the roses to-day," she said, "for you. Will you wear one of +them to-morrow for me?" + +She detached a bud and leaned out of the door of the motor. She pinned +the bud to the lapel of the man's coat. She did it slowly, deliberately, +like one who makes the touch of the fingers do the service of a caress. + +Then she spoke to the driver and the motor went on, leaving the amazed +man on the curb before the shabby Markheim Hotel with the rosebud pinned +to his coat--astonished at the incredible fortune of this favor from an +inaccessible idol about whom the city raved. + +The woman accepted the enigma of this interview as she had accepted the +wonder of the girl's sudden appearance and the other, incidents of this +extraordinary night. She did not undertake to imagine what the drawing +on the menu meant, the words about the one-armed man, the glove dropped +for Thompson to pick up, the rose pinned on his coat; it was all of a +piece with the mystery that she had stumbled into. + +When the motor stopped and she was taken through a little door by an +attendant into a theater box, she accepted that as another of these +things into which she could not inquire; things that happened to her +outside of her volition and directed by authorities which she could not +control. + +The staging of the opera refined and extended the illusion that she had +been transported out of the world by some occult agency. The wonderful +creature that had taken her up out of her abandoned misery before the +sordid shop-shutter appeared now in a fairy costume glittering with +jewels. And the gnomes, the monsters and goblins appearing about her +were all fabulous creatures, as the girl herself seemed a fabulous +creature. + +She sighed like one who must awaken from the splendor of a dream to +realities of which the sleeper is vaguely conscious. Only the girl's +voice seemed real. It seemed some great, heavenly reality like the +sunlight or the sweep of the sea. It filled the packed places of the +theater. She sang and one believed again in the benevolence of heaven; +in immortal love. To the distressed woman effacing herself in the corner +of the empty box it was all a sort of inconceivable witch-work. + +And it was witch-work, as potent if not as amply fitted with dramatic +properties as the witchwork of ancient legend. + +The daughter of an obscure juge d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud, +singing in a Swiss meadow, had been taken up by a wealthy American, +traveling in Switzerland on an April morning-old, enervated with the sun +of the Riviera, and displeased with life. And this rich old woman, her +rheumatic fingers loaded with jewels, had transformed the daughter of +the juge d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud into a singing wonder that +made every human creature see again the dreams of his youth before him +leading into the Elysian Fields. + +And to the girl herself this transformation also seemed the wonder +of witch-work. Her early life lay so far below in a world remote and +detached; a little house in a village of the Canton of Vaud with +the genteel poverty that attended the slender salary of a juge +d'instruction, and the weight of duties that accumulated on her +shoulders. Her father's life was given over to the labors of criminal +investigation, but it was a field that returned nothing in the way of +material gain. Honorable mention, a medal, the distinction of having his +reports copied into the official archives, were the fruits of the man's +life. She remembered the minutely exhaustive details of those reports +which she used to copy painfully at night by the light of a candle. +The old man, absorbed by his deductions, with his trained habits of +observation and his prodigious memory, never seemed to realize the +drudgery imposed upon the girl by his endless dictation. + +"To-morrow," the heavenly creature had said softly, like a caress, in +the woman's ear when an attendant had taken her through the little +door into the empty box. But the to-morrow broke with every illusion +vanished. + +The woman sat beside her husband in the dismal court-room when the court +convened. The judge, old and tired, was on the bench. A sulphurous, +depressing fog entered from the city. The court-room smelled of a +cleaner's mop. The jury entered; and a few spectators, who looked as +though they might have spent the night on the benches of the park out, +side, drifted in. The attorneys and the officials of the court were +present and the trial resumed. + +Every detail of the departed, evening was, to the woman, a mirage except +the brutal threat of the attorney, uttered before she had gone down into +the street. This threat, with that power of reality which evil things +seem always to possess, now materialized. After the court had opened, +but before the trial could proceed, the attorney for the defendant rose +and addressed the court. + +He spoke for some moments, handling his innuendoes with skill. His +intent was to withdraw from the case. He realized that this was an +unusual procedure and that the course must be justified upon a high +ethical plane. He was a person of acumen and of no inconsiderable skill +and he succeeded. Without making any direct charge, and disclaiming any +intent to prejudice the prisoner and his defense, or to deprive him of +any safeguard of the law, he was able to convey the impression that +he had been misled in undertaking the defense of the case; that +his confidence in the innocence of the accused had been removed by +unquestionable evidence which he had been led to believe did not exist. + +He made this explanation with profound regret. But he felt that, having +been induced to undertake the defense by representations not justified +in fact, and by an impression of the nature of the case which +developments in the court-room had not confirmed, he had the right to +step aside out of an equivocal position. He wished to do this without +injury to the prisoner and while there was yet an opportunity for him to +obtain other counsel. The whole tenor of the speech was the right to be +relieved from the obligation of an error; an error that had involved him +unwittingly by reason of assurances which the developments of the case +had now set aside. And through it all there was the manifest wish to do +the prisoner no vestige of injury. + +After this speech of his attorney the conviction of the man was +inevitable. He sat stooped over, his back bent, his head down, his +thin hands aimlessly in his lap like one who has come to the end of +all things; like one who no longer makes any effort against a destiny +determined on his ruin. + +The thing had the overpowering vitality which evil things seem always +to possess, and the woman felt helpless against it; so utterly, so +completely helpless that it was useless to protest by any word or +gesture. She could have gotten up and explained the true motive behind +this man's speech; she could have repeated the dialogue in his office; +she could have asserted his unspeakable treachery; but she saw with an +unerring instinct that against the skill of the man her effort would be +wholly useless. With his resources and his dominating cunning he would +not only make her words appear obviously false, but he would make them +fasten upon her a malicious intent to injure the man who had undertaken +her husband's defense; and somehow he would be able, she felt, to divert +the obliquity and cause it to react upon herself. + +This was all clear to her, and like some little trapped creature of +the wood that finds escape closed on every side and no longer makes any +effort, she remained motionless. + +The judge was an honorable man, concerned to accomplish justice and not +always misled by an obvious intent. The proceeding did not please him, +but he knew that no benefit, rather a continued injury, would result to +the prisoner by forcing the attorney to go on with a case which it +was evident that he no longer cared to make any effort to support. He +permitted the man to withdraw. Then he spoke to the prisoner. + +"Have you any other counsel?" he asked. + +The prisoner did not look up. He replied in a low, almost inaudible +voice. + +"No, Your Honor," he said. + +"Then I shall appoint some one to go on with the case," and he looked up +over the docket before him and out at the few attorneys sitting within +the rail. + +It was at this moment that the woman, crying silently, without a sound +and without moving in her chair, heard behind her the voice which she +had heard the evening before, when, as now, at the bottom of the pit, +she stood before the shutter of the shop-window. + +"Will it be necessary, monsieur le judge?" + +It was the same wonderful, moving, heavenly voice. Every sound in the +court-room suddenly ceased. All eyes were lifted. And Thompson, sitting +beside the district-attorney, saw, standing before the rail in the +court-room, the splendid, alluring creature that had called him out +of the sordid lobby of the Hotel Markheim and entranced him with an +evidence of her favor. Unconsciously he put up his hand to feel for +the bud in the lapel of his coat. It had remained there--not, as it +happened, from her wish, but because he dare not lay the coat aside. + +In the interval of intense interest arising at the withdrawal of the +attorney from the case the girl had come in unnoticed. She might have +appeared out of the floor. Her voice was the first indication of her +presence. + +The judge turned swiftly. "What do you mean?" he said. + +"I mean, monsieur," she answered, "that if a man is innocent of a crime, +he cannot require a lawyer to defend him." + +The judge was astonished, but he was an old man and had seen many +strange events happen along the way of a criminal trial. + +"But why do you say this man is innocent," he said. + +"I will show you, monsieur," and she came around the railing into the +pit of the court before his bench. She carried in her hand the menu +upon which, at the table in the cafe the night before, she had made a +drawing of the scene of the homicide. + +The extraordinary event had happened so swiftly that the attorney for +the prosecution had not been able to interpose an objection. Now the +nephew of the dead man spoke hurriedly, in whispers, and the attorney +arose. + +"I object to this irregular proceeding," he said. "If this person is a +witness, let her be sworn in the usual manner and let her take her place +in the witness-chair where she may be examined by the attorney whom the +court may see fit to appoint for the defense." + +It was evident that Mr. Thompson, urging the prosecutor, was alarmed. +The folds of his obese neck lying above the collar of his coat took on +a deeper color, and his mouth visibly sagged as with some unexpected +emotion. He felt that he was becoming entangled in some vast, invisible +net spread about him by this girl who had appeared as if by magic before +the Hotel Markheim. + +The judge looked down at the attorney. "I will have the witness sworn," +he said, "but I shall not at present appoint anybody to conduct an +examination. When a prisoner before me has no counsel, I sometimes look +after his case myself." + +He spoke to the girl. "Will you hold up your hand?" he said. + +"Why, yes, monsieur," she said, "if you will also ask Mr. Thompson to +hold up his hand." + +"Do you wish him sworn as a witness?" said the judge. + +The girl hesitated. "Yes, monsieur," she said, "if that is the way to +have him hold up his hand." + +Again Thompson was disturbed. Again he spoke to the prosecutor and again +that attorney objected. + +"We have not asked to have Mr. Thompson testify in this case," he said. +"It is true Mr. Thompson is concerned about the result of this trial. He +is the nephew of the decedent and his heir. It is only natural that he +should properly concern himself to see that the assassin is brought to +justice." + +He spoke to the girl. "Do you wish to make Mr. Thompson your witness?" +he said. + +And again she replied with the hesitating formula: + +"Why, yes, monsieur, if that is the way to cause him to hold up his +hand." + +The judge turned to the clerk. "Will you administer the oath to these +two persons?" he said. + +Thompson rose. His face was disconcerted and slack. He hesitated, but +the prosecutor spoke to him. Then he faced the judge and put up his +hand. Immediately the girl cried out: + +"Look, monsieur," she said. "It is his left hand he is holding up!" + +Immediately Thompson raised the other hand. "I beg your pardon, Your +Honor," he muttered. "I am left-handed; I sometimes make that mistake." + +And again the girl cried out: "You see... you notice it... it is true, +then... he is left-handed." + +"I see he is left-handed," said the judge, "but what has that to do with +the case?" + +"Oh, monsieur," she said, "it has everything to do with it. I will show +you." + +She moved up on the step before the judge's bench and laid the menu +before him. The attorney for the prosecution also arose. He wished to +prevent this proceeding, to object to it, but he feared to disturb the +judge and he remained silent. + +"Monsieur," she said, "I have made a little drawing... I know how such +things are done.... My father was juge d'instruction of the Canton +of Vaud. He always made little drawings of places where crimes were +committed.... Here you will see," and she put her finger on the +card, "the narrow passage leading from the butler's pantry into the +dining-room used for a library. You will notice, monsieur, that the +writing-table stood with one end against the wall, the left wall of the +room, as one enters from the butler's pantry. It is a queer table. One +side of it has a row of drawers coming to the floor and the other side +is open so one may sit with one's knees under it. On the night of the +tragedy this table was sitting at right angles to the left wall, that +is to say, monsieur, with this end open for the writer's knees close up +against the left wall of the room. That meant, monsieur, that on this +night Mr. Marsh was sitting at the table with his back to the passage +from the butler's pantry, close up against the left wall of the room. + +"Therefore, monsieur," the girl went on, "the man who assassinated Mr. +Marsh entered from the butler's pantry. He slipped into the room along +the left wall close up behind his victim.... Did it not occur so." + +This was the evidence of the police officials and the experts. It was +clear from the position of the desk in the room and from the details of +the evidence. + +"And, monsieur," she said, "will you tell me, is it true that the stab +wound which killed Mr. Marsh was in the shoulder on the side next to the +wall?" + +"Yes," said the judge, "that is true." + +The prosecutor, urged by Thompson, now made a verbal objection. The +case was practically completed. The incident going on in the court-room +followed no definite legal procedure and could not be permitted to +proceed. The judge stopped him. + +"Sit down," he said. He did not offer any explanation or comment. He +merely silenced the man and returned to the girl standing eagerly on the +step before the bench. + +"The wound was in the base of the man's neck at the top of the left +shoulder on the side next to the wall," he said. "But what has this fact +to do with the case?" + +"Oh, monsieur," she cried, "it has everything to do with it. If the +assassin who slipped along the wall had carried the knife in his right +hand, the wound would have been on the right side of the dead man's +neck. But if, monsieur, the assassin carried the knife in his left hand, +then the wound would be where it is, on the left side. That made me +believe, at first, that the assassin had only one arm--had lost +his right arm--and must use the other; then, a little later, I +understood.... Oh, monsieur, don't you understand; don't you see that +the assassin who stabbed Mr. Marsh was left-handed?" + +In a moment it was all clear to everybody. Only a left-handed man could +have committed the crime, for only a left-handed man standing close +against the left side of a room above one sitting at a desk against +that wall could have struck straight down into the left shoulder of the +murdered man. A right-handed assassin would have struck straight down +into the right shoulder, he would not have risked a doubtful blow, +delivered awkwardly across his body, into the left shoulder of his +victim. + +The girl indicated Thompson with her hand. "He did it; he's left-handed. +I found out by dropping my glove." + +Panic enveloped the cornered man. He began to shake as with an ague. +Sweat like a thin oil spread over his debauched face and the folds of +his obese neck. With his fatal left hand he began to finger the lapel +of his coat where the faded rosebud hung pinned into the buttonhole. And +the girl's voice broke the profound silence of the court-room. + +"He has the money, too," she said. "I felt a bulky packet when I gave +him the flower out of my bouquet last night." + +The big, thin-haired lawyer, leaving the courtroom after his withdrawal +from the case, stopped at a window arrested by the amazing scene: The +police taking the stolen money out of Thompson's pocket; the woman in +the girl's arms, and the transfigured prisoner standing up as in the +presence of a heavenly angel. This before him... and the splendid motor +below under the sweep of the window, waiting before the courthouse door, +brought back the memory of his biting, sarcastic words: + +"... or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!" + +And there occurred to him a doubt of the exclusive dominance of life by +the gods he served. + + + + +XIV. The Yellow Flower + + +The girl sat in a great chair before the fire, huddled, staring into the +glow of the smoldering logs. + +Her dark hair clouded her face. The evening gown was twisted and +crumpled about her. There was no ornament on her; her arms, her +shoulders, the exquisite column of her throat were bare. + +She sat with her eyes wide, unmoving, in a profound reflection. + +The library was softly lighted; richly furnished, a little beyond +the permission of good taste. On a table at the girl's elbow were two +objects; a ruby necklace, and a dried flower. The flower, fragile with +age, seemed a sort of scrub poppy of a delicate yellow; the flower of +some dwarfed bush, prickly like a cactus. + +The necklace made a great heap of jewels on the buhl top of the table, +above the intricate arabesque of silver and tortoise-shell. + +It was nearly midnight. Outside, the dull rumble of London seemed a +sound, continuous, unvarying, as though it were the distant roar of a +world turning in some stellar space. + +It was a great old house in Park Lane, heavy and of that gloomy +architecture with which the feeling of the English people, at an earlier +time, had been so strangely in accord. It stood before St. James's Park +oppressive and monumental, and now in the midst of yellow fog its heavy +front was like a mausoleum. + +But within, the house had been treated to a modern re-casting, not +entirely independent of the vanity of wealth. + +After the dinner at the Ritz, the girl felt that she could not go on; +and Lady Mary's party, on its way to the dancing, put her down at the +door. She gave the excuse of a crippling headache. But it was a deeper, +more profound aching that disturbed her. She was before the tragic hour, +appearing in the lives of many women, when suddenly, as by the opening +of a door, one realizes the irrevocable aspect of a marriage of which +the details are beginning to be arranged. That hour in which a woman +must consider, finally, the clipping of all threads, except the single +one that shall cord her to a mate for life. + +Until to-night, in spite of preparations on the way, the girl had not +felt this marriage as inevitable. Her aunt had pressed for it, subtly, +invisibly, as an older woman is able to do. + +Her situation was always, clearly before her. She was alone in the +world; with very little, almost nothing. The estate her father inherited +he had finally spent in making great explorations. There was no unknown +taste of the world that he had not undertaken to enter. The final +driblets of his fortune had gone into his last adventure in the Great +Gobi Desert from which he had never returned. + +The girl had been taken by this aunt in London, incredibly rich, but on +the fringes of the fashionable society of England, which she longed to +enter. Even to the young girl, her aunt's plan was visible. With a great +settlement, such as this ambitious woman could manage, the girl could be +a duchess. + +The marriage to Lord Eckhart in the diplomatic service, who would one +day be a peer of England, had been a lure dangled unavailingly before +her, until that night, when, on his return from India, he had carried +her off her feet with his amazing incredible sacrifice. It was the +immense idealism, the immense romance of it that had swept her into this +irrevocable thing. + +She got up now, swiftly, as though she would again realize how the thing +had happened and stooped over the table above the heap of jewels. They +were great pigeon-blood rubies, twenty-seven of them, fastened together +with ancient crude gold work. She lifted the long necklace until it hung +with the last jewel on the table. + +The thing was a treasure, an immense, incredible treasure. And it was +for this--for the privilege of putting this into her hands, that the +man had sold everything he had in England--and endured what the gossips +said--endured it during the five years in India--kept silent and was +now silent. She remembered every detail the rumor of a wild life, a +dissolute reckless life, the gradual, piece by piece sale of +everything that could be turned into money. London could not think of a +ne'er-do-well to equal him in the memory of its oldest gossips--and +all the time with every penny, he was putting together this immense +treasure--for her. A dreamer writing a romance might imagine a thing +like this, but had it any equal in the realities of life? + +She looked down at the chain of great jewels, and the fragment of +prickly shrub with its poppy-shaped yellow flower. They were symbols, +each, of an immense idealism, an immense conception of sacrifice that +lifted the actors in their dramas into gigantic figures illumined with +the halos of romance. + +Until to-night it had been this ideal figure of Lord Eckhart that the +girl considered in this marriage. And to-night, suddenly, the actual +physical man had replaced it. And, alarmed, she had drawn back. Perhaps +it was the Teutonic blood in him--a grandmother of a German house. And, +yet, who could say, perhaps this piece of consuming idealism was from +that ancient extinct Germany of Beethoven. + +But the man and the ideal seemed distinct things having no relation. +She drew back from the one, and she stood on tip-toe, with arms extended +longingly toward the other. + +What should she do? + +Had the example of her father thrown on Lord Eckhart a golden shadow? +She moved the bit of flower, gently as in a caress. He had given up the +income of a leading profession and gone to his death. His fortune and +his life had gone in the same high careless manner for the thing he +sought. For the treasure that he believed lay in the Gobi Desert--not +for himself, but for every man to be born into the world. He was the +great dreamer, the great idealist, a vague shining figure before the +girl like the cloud in the Hebraic Myth. + +The girl stood up and linked her fingers together behind her back. If +her father were only here--for an hour, for a moment! Or if, in the +world beyond sight and hearing, he could somehow get a message to her! + +At this moment a bell, somewhere in the deeps of the house, jangled, and +she heard the old butler moving through the hall to the door. The +other servants had been dismissed for the night, and her aunt on the +preliminaries of this marriage was in Paris. + +A moment later the butler appeared with a card on his tray. It was +a card newly engraved in some English shop and bore the name "Dr. +Tsan-Sgam." The girl stood for a moment puzzled at the queer name, and +then the memory of the strange outlandish human creatures, from the ends +of the world, who used sometimes to visit her father, in the old time, +returned, and with it there came a sudden upward sweep of the heart--was +there an answer to her longing, somehow, incredibly on the way! + +She gave a direction for the visitor to be brought in. He was a big +old man. His body looked long and muscular like that of some type +of Englishmen, but his head and his features were Mongolian. He was +entirely bald, as bald as the palm of a hand, as though bald from +his mother he had so remained to this incredible age. And age was the +impression that he profoundly presented. But it was age that a tough +vitality in the man resisted; as though the assault of time wore it down +slowly and with almost an imperceptible detritus. The great naked head +and the wide Mongolian face were unshrunken; they presented, rather, the +aspect of some old child. He was dressed with extreme care, in the very +best evening clothes that one could buy in a London shop. + +He bowed, oddly, with a slow doubling of the body, and when he spoke +the girl felt that he was translating his words through more than one +language; as though one were to put one's sentences into French or +Italian and from that, as a sort of intermediary, into English--as +though the way were long, and unfamiliar from the medium in which the +man thought to the one in which he was undertaking to express it. But at +the end of this involved mental process his English sentences appeared +correctly, and with an accurate selection in the words. + +"You must pardon the hour, Miss Carstair," he said, in his slow, precise +articulation, "but I am required to see you and it is the only time I +have." + +Then his eyes caught the necklace on the table, and advancing with two +steps he stooped over it. + +For a moment everything else seemed removed, from about the man. His +angular body, in its unfamiliar dress, was doubled like a finger; his +great head with its wide Mongolian face was close down over the buhl top +of the table and his finger moved the heap of rubies. + +The girl had a sudden inspiration. + +"Lord Eckhart got these jewels from you?" + +The man paused, he seemed to be moving the girl's words backward through +the intervening languages. + +Then he replied. + +"Yes," he said, "from us." + +The girl's inspiration was now illumined by a further light. + +"And you have not been paid for them?" + +The man stood up now. And again this involved process of moving the +words back through various translations was visible--and the answer up. + +"Yes--" he said, "we have been paid." + +Then he added, in explanation of his act. + +"These rubies have no equal in the world--and the gold-work attaching +them together is extremely old. I am always curious to admire it." + +He looked down at the girl, at the necklace, at the space about them, as +though he were deeply, profoundly puzzled. + +"We had a fear," he said, "--it was wrong!" + +Then he put his hand swiftly into the bosom pocket of his evening coat, +took out a thin packet wrapped in a piece of vellum and handed it to the +girl. + +"It became necessary to treat with the English Government about the +removal of records from Lhassa and I was sent--I was directed to get +this packet to you from London. To-night, at dinner with Sir Henry +Marquis in St. James's Square, I learned that you were here. I had then +only this hour to come, as my boat leaves in the morning." He spoke with +the extreme care of one putting together a delicate mosaic. + +The girl stood staring at the thin packet. A single thought alone +consumed her. + +"It is a message from--my--father." + +She spoke almost in a whisper. + +The big Oriental replied immediately. + +"No," he said, "your father is beyond sight and hearing." + +The girl had no hope; only the will to hope. The reply was confirmation +of what she already knew. She removed the thin vellum wrapper from the +packet. Within she found a drawing on a plate of ivory. It represented +a shaft of some white stone standing on the slight elevation of what +seemed to be a barren plateau. And below on the plate, in fine English +characters like an engraving, was the legend, "Erected to the memory of +Major Judson Carstair by the monastery at the Head." + +The man added a word of explanation. + +"The Brotherhood thought that you would wish to know that your father's +body had been recovered, and that it had received Christian burial, as +nearly as we were able to interpret the forms. The stone is a sort of +granite." + +The girl wished to ask a thousand questions: How did her father meet his +death, and where? What did they know? What had they recovered with his +body? + +The girl spoke impulsively, her words crowding one another. And the +Oriental seemed able only to disengage the last query from the others. + +"Unfortunately," he said, "some band of the desert people had passed +before our expedition arrived, nothing was recovered but the body. It +was not mutilated." + +They had been standing. The girl now indicated the big library chair in +which she had been huddled and got another for herself. Then she wished +to know what they had learned about her father's death. + +The Oriental sat down. He sat awkwardly, his big body, in a kind of +squat posture, the broad Mongolian face emerging, as in a sort of +deformity, from the collar of his evening coat. Then he began to speak, +with that conscious effect of bringing his words through various mediums +from a distance. + +"We endeavored to discourage Major Carstair from undertaking this +adventure. We were greatly concerned about his safety. The sunken +plateau of the Gobi Desert, north of the Shan States, is exceedingly +dangerous for an European, not so much on account of murderous attacks +from the desert people, for this peril we could prevent; but there is a +chill in this sunken plain after sunset that the native people only can +resist. No white man has ever crossed the low land of the Gobi." + +He paused. + +"And there is in fact no reason why any one should wish to cross it. It +is absolutely barren. We pointed out all this very carefully to Major +Carstair when we learned what he had in plan, for as I have said his +welfare was very pressingly on our conscience. We were profoundly +puzzled about what he was seeking in the Gobi. He was not, evidently, +intending to plot the region or to survey any route, or to acquire any +scientific data. His equipment lacked all the implements for such work. +It was a long time before we understood the impulse that was moving +Major Carstair to enter this waste region of the Gobi to the north." + +The man stopped, and sat for some moments quite motionless. + +"Your father," he went on, "was a distinguished man in one of the +departments of human endeavor which the East has always neglected; and +in it he had what seemed to us incredible skill--with ease he was able +to do things which we considered impossible. And for this reason the +impulse taking him into the Gobi seemed entirely incredible to us; it +seemed entirely inconsistent with this special ability which we knew the +man to possess; and for a long time we rejected it, believing ourselves +to be somehow misled." + +The girl sat straight and silent, in her chair near the brass fender +to the right of the buhl table; the drawing, showing the white granite +shaft, held idly in her fingers; the illuminated vellum wrapper fallen +to the floor. + +The man continued speaking slowly. + +"When, finally, it was borne in upon us that Major Carstair was seeking +a treasure somewhere on the barren plateau of the Gobi, we took every +measure, consistent with a proper courtesy, to show him how fantastic +this notion was. We had, in fact, to exercise a certain care lest +the very absurdity of the conception appear too conspicuously in our +discourse." + +He looked across the table at the girl. + +The man's great bald head seemed to sink a little into his shoulders, as +in some relaxation. + +"We brought out our maps of the region and showed him the old routes +and trails veining the whole of it. We explained the topography of this +desert plateau; the exact physical character of its relief. There was +hardly a square mile of it that we did not know in some degree, and +of which we did not possess some fairly accurate data. It was entirely +inconceivable that any object of value could exist in this region +without our knowledge of it." + +The man was speaking like one engaged in some extremely delicate +mechanical affair, requiring an accuracy almost painful in its +exactness. + +"Then, profoundly puzzled, we endeavored to discover what data Major +Carstair possessed that could in any way encourage him in this fantastic +idea. It was a difficult thing to do, for we held him in the highest +esteem and, outside of this bizarre notion, we had before us, beyond any +question, the evidence of his especial knowledge; and, as I have said, +his, to us, incredible skill." + +He paused, as though the careful structure of the long sentence had +fatigued him. + +"Major Carstair's explanations were always in the imagery of romance. +He sought 'a treasure--a treasure that would destroy a Kingdom.' And his +indicatory data seemed to be the dried blossom of our desert poppy." + +Again the Oriental paused. He put up his hand and passed his fingers +over his face. The gaunt hand contrasted with the full contour. + +"I confess that we did not know what to do. We realized that we had +to deal with a nature possessing in one direction the exact accurate +knowledge of a man of science, and in another the wonder extravagances +of a child. The Dalai Lama was not yet able to be consulted, and it +seemed to us a better plan to say no more about the impossible treasure, +and address our endeavors to the practical side of Major Carstair's +intelligence instead. We now pointed out the physical dangers of the +region. The deadly chill in it coming on at sunset could not fail to +inflame the lungs of a European, accustomed to an equable temperature, +fever would follow; and within a few days the unfortunate victim would +find his whole breathing space fatally congested." + +The man removed his hand. The care in his articulation was marked. + +"Major Carstair was not turned aside by these facts, and we permitted +him to go on." + +Again he paused as though troubled by a memory. + +"In this course," he continued, "the Dalai Lama considered us to have +acted at the extreme of folly. But it is to be remembered, in our +behalf, that somewhat of the wonder at Major Carstair's knowledge of +Western science dealing with the human body was on us, and we felt +that perhaps the climatic peril of the Gobi might present no difficult +problem to him. + +"We were fatally misled." + +Then he added. + +"We were careful to direct him along the highest route of the plateau, +and to have his expedition followed. But chance intervened. Major +Carstair turned out of the route and our patrol went on, supposing him +to be ahead on the course which we had indicated to him. When the error +was at last discovered, our patrol was entering the Sirke range. No one +could say at what point on the route Major Carstair had turned out, and +our search of the vast waste of the Gobi desert began. The high wind on +the plateau removes every trace of human travel. The whole of the region +from the Sirke, south, had to be gone over. It took a long time." + +The man stopped like one who has finished a story. The girl had not +moved; her face was strained and white. The fog outside had thickened; +the sounds of the city seemed distant. The girl had listened without a +word, without a gesture. Now she spoke. + +"But why were you so concerned about my father?" + +The big Oriental turned about in the chair. He looked steadily at the +girl, he seemed to be treating the query to his involved method of +translation; and Miss Carstair felt that the man, because of this +tedious mental process, might have difficulty to understand precisely +what she meant. + +What he wished to say, he could control and, therefore, could accurately +present--but what was said to him began in the distant language. + +"What Major Carstair did," he said, "it has not been made clear to you?" + +"No," she replied, "I do not understand." + +The man seemed puzzled. + +"You have not understood!" + +He repeated the sentence; his face reflective, his great bare head +settling into the collar of his evening coat as though the man's neck +were removed. + +He remained for a moment thus puzzled and reflective. Then he began +to speak as one would set in motion some delicate involved machinery +running away into the hidden spaces of a workshop. + +"The Dalai Lama had fallen--he was alone in the Image Room. His head +striking the sharp edge of a table was cut. He had lost a great deal of +blood when we found him and was close to death. Major Carstair was at +this time approaching the monastery from the south; his description +sent to us from Lhassa contained the statement that he was an American +surgeon. We sent at once asking him to visit the Dalai Lama, for the +skill of Western people in this department of human knowledge is known +to us." + +The Oriental went on, slowly, with extreme care. + +"Major Carstair did not at once impress us. 'What this man needs,' he +said, 'is blood.' That was clear to everybody. One of our, how shall I +say it in your language, Cardinals, replied with some bitterness, that +the Dalai Lama could hardly be imagined to lack anything else. Major +Carstair paid no attention to the irony. 'This man must have a supply +of blood,' he added. The Cardinal, very old, and given to imagery in his +discourse answered, that blood could be poured out but it could not be +gathered up... and that man could spill it but only God could make. + +"We interrupted then, for Major Carstair was our guest and entitled to +every courtesy, and inquired how it would be possible to restore blood +to the Dalai Lama; it was not conceivable that the lost blood could be +gathered up. + +"He explained then that he would transfer it from the veins of a healthy +man into the unconscious body." + +The Oriental hesitated; then he went on. + +"The thing seemed to us fantastic. But our text treating the life of +the Dalai Lama admits of no doubt upon one point--'no measure presenting +itself in extremity can be withheld.' He was in clear extremity and this +measure, even though of foreign origin, had presented itself, and we +felt after a brief reflection that we were bound to permit it." + +He added. + +"The result was a miracle to us. In a short time the Dalai Lama had +recovered. But in the meantime Major Carstair had gone on into the Gobi +seeking the fantastic treasure." + +The girl turned toward the man, a wide-eyed, eager, lighted face. + +"Do you realize," she said, "the sort of treasure that my father +sacrificed his life to search for?" + +The Oriental spoke slowly. + +"It was to destroy a Kingdom," he said. + +"To destroy the Kingdom of Pain!" She replied, "My father was seeking +an anesthetic more powerful than the derivatives of domestic opium. He +searched the world for it. In the little, wild desert flower lay, he +thought, the essence of this treasure. And he would seek it at any cost. +Fortune was nothing; life was nothing. Is it any wonder that you could +not stop him? A flaming sword moving at the entrance to the Gobi could +not have barred him out!" + +The big Oriental made a vague gesture as of one removing something +clinging to his face. + +"Wherefore this blindness?" he said. + +The girl had turned away in an effort to control the emotion that +possessed her. But the task was greater than her strength; when she +came back to the table tears welled up in her eyes and trickled down her +face. Emotion seemed now to overcome her. + +"If my father were only here," her voice was broken, "if he were only +here!" + +The big Oriental moved his whole body, as by one motion, toward her. The +house was very still; there was only the faint crackling of the logs on +the fire. + +"We had a fear," he said. "It remains!" + +The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the brass +fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime she was silent. +Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in a low voice. + +"You know Lord Eckhart?" + +A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face. + +"Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our monastery on +the edge of the Gobi--the English sovereignty extends to the Kahn line. +Lord Eckhart was the political agent of the English government in the +province nearest to us." + +When the girl got up, the Oriental also rose. He stood awkwardly, his +body stooped; his hand as for support resting on the corner of the +table. The girl spoke again, in the same posture. Her face toward the +fire. + +"How do you feel about Lord Eckhart?" + +"Feel!" The man repeated the word. + +He hesitated a little. + +"We trusted Lord Eckhart. We have found all English honorable." + +"Lord Eckhart is partly German," the girl went on. + +The man's voice in reply was like a foot-note to a discourse. + +"Ah!" He drawled the expletive as though it were some Oriental word. + +The girl continued. "You have perhaps heard that a marriage is arranged +between us." + +Her voice was steady, low, without emotion. + +For a long time there was utter silence in the room. + +Then, finally, when the Oriental spoke his voice had changed. It was +gentle, and packed with sympathy. It was like a voice within the gate of +a confessional. + +"Do you love him?" it said. + +"I do not know." + +The vast sympathy in the voice continued. "You do not know?--it is +impossible! Love is or it is not. It is the longing of elements torn +asunder, at the beginning of things, to be rejoined." + +The girl turned swiftly, her body erect, her face lifted. + +"But this great act," she cried. "My father, I, all of our blood, are +moved by romance--by the romance of sacrifice. Look how my father died +seeking an antidote for the pain of the world. How shall I meet this +sacrifice of Lord Eckhart?" + +Something strange began to dawn in the wide Mongolian face. + +"What sacrifice?" + +The girl came over swiftly to the table. She scattered the mass of +jewels with a swift gesture. + +"Did he not give everything he possessed, everything piece by piece, for +this?" + +She took the necklace up and twisted it around her fingers. Her hands +appeared to be a mass of rubies. + +A great light came into the Oriental's face. + +"The necklace," he said, "is a present to you from the Dalai Lama. It +was entrusted to Lord Eckhart to deliver." + + + + +XV. Satire of the Sea + +"What was the mystery about St. Alban?" I asked. + +The Baronet did not at once reply. He looked out over the English +country through the ancient oak-trees, above the sweep of meadow across +the dark, creeping river, to the white shaft rising beyond the wooded +hills into the sky. + +The war was over. I was a guest of Sir Henry Marquis for a week-end at +his country-house. The man fascinated me. He seemed a sort of bottomless +Stygian vat of mysteries. He had been the secret hand of England for +many years in India. Then he was made a Baronet and put at the head of +England's Secret Service at Scotland Yard. + +A servant brought out the tea and we were alone on the grass terrace +before the great oak-trees. He remained for some moments in reflection, +then he replied: + +"Do you mean the mystery of his death?" + +"Was there any other mystery?" I said. + +He looked at me narrowly across the table. + +"There was hardly any mystery about his death," he said. "The man shot +himself with an old dueling pistol that hung above the mantel in his +library. The family, when they found him, put the pistol back on the +nail and fitted the affair with the stock properties of a mysterious +assassin. + +"The explanation was at once accepted. The man's life, in the public +mind, called for an end like that. St. Alban after his career, should by +every canon of the tragic muse, go that way." + +He made a careless gesture with his fingers. + +"I saw the disturbed dust on the wall where the pistol had been moved, +the bits of split cap under the hammer, and the powder marks on the +muzzle. + +"But I let the thing go. It seemed in keeping with the destiny of the +man. And it completed the sardonic picture. It was all fated, as the +Gaelic people say.... I saw no reason to disturb it." + +"Then there was some other mystery?" I ventured. + +He nodded his big head slowly. + +"There is an ancient belief," he said, "that the hunted thing always +turns on us. Well, if there was ever a man in this world on whom the +hunted thing awfully turned, it was St. Alban." + +He put out his hand. + +"Look at the shaft yonder," he said, "lifted to his memory, towering +over the whole of this English country, and cut on its base with his +services to England and the brave words he said on that fatal morning on +the Channel boat. Every schoolboy knows the words: + +"'Don't threaten, fire if you like!' + +"First-class words for the English people to remember. No bravado, just +the thing any decent chap would say. But the words are persistent. They +remain in the memory. And it was a thrilling scene they fitted into. +One must never forge that: The little hospital transport lying in the +Channel in a choppy sea that ran streaks of foam; the grim turret and +the long whaleback of a U-boat in the foam scruff; and the sun lying on +the scrubbed deck of the jumping transport. + +"Everybody was crowded about. St. Alban was in the center of the human +pack, in a pace or two of clear deck, his injured arm in a sling; his +split sleeve open around it; his shoulders thrown back; his head lifted; +and before him, the Hun commander with his big automatic pistol. + +"It's a wonderful, spirited picture, and it thrilled England. It was in +accord with her legends. England has little favor of either the gods of +the hills or the gods of the valleys. But always, in all her wars, the +gods of the seas back her." + +The big Baronet paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it and set +it down on the table. + +"That's a fine monument," he said, indicating the white shaft that shot +up into the cloudless evening sky. "The road makes a sharp turn by it. +You have got to slow up, no matter how you travel. The road rises there. +It's built that way; to make the passer go slow enough to read the +legends on the base of the monument. It's a clever piece of business. +Everybody is bound to give his tribute of attention to the conspicuous +memorial. + +"There are two faces to the monument that you must look at if you go +that road. One recounts the man's services to England, and the other +face bears his memorable words: + +"'Don't threaten, fire if you like!'" + +The Baronet fingered the handle of his teacup. + +"The words are precisely suited to the English people," he said. "No +heroics, no pretension, that's the whole spirit of England. It's the +English policy in a line: We don't threaten, and we don't wish to be +threatened by another. Let them fire if they like,--that's all in the +game. But don't swing a gun on us with a threat. St. Alban was lucky +to say it. He got the reserve, the restraint, the commonplace +understatement that England affects, into the sentence. It was a piece +of good fortune to catch the thing like that. + +"The monument is tremendous. One can't avoid it. It's always before the +eye here, like the White Horse of Alfred on the chalk hill in Berkshire. +All the roads pass it through this countryside. But every mortal thing +that travels, motor and cart, must slow up around the monument." + +He stopped for a moment and looked at the white needle shimmering in the +evening sun. + +"But St. Alban's greatest monument," he said, "was the lucky sentence. +It stuck in the English memory and it will never go out of it. One +wouldn't give a half-penny for a monument if one could get a phrase +fastened in a people's memory like that." + +Sir Henry moved in his chair. + +"I often wonder," he said, "whether the thing was an inspiration of St. +Alban's that morning on the deck of the hospital transport, or had he +thought about it at some other time? Was the sentence stored in +the man's memory, or did it come with the first gleam of returning +consciousness from a soul laid open by disaster? I think racial words, +simple and unpretentious, may lies in any man close to the bone like +that to be rived out with a mortal hurt. That's what keeps me wondering +about the words he used. And he did use them. + +"I don't doubt that a lot of our hero stuff has been edited after the +fact. But this sentence wasn't edited. That's what he said, precisely. +A hundred wounded soldiers on the hospital transport heard it. They were +crowding round him. And they told the story when they got ashore. The +story varied in trifling details as one would expect among so many +witnesses to a tragic event like that. But it didn't vary about what +the man said when the Hun commander was swinging his automatic pistol on +him. + +"There was no opportunity to edit a brave sentence to fit the affair. +St. Alban said it. And he didn't think it up as he climbed out of the +cabin of the transport. If he had been in a condition to think, he +had enough of the devil's business to think about just then; a brave +sentence would hardly have concerned him, as I said awhile ago. + +"Besides, we have his word that, after what happened in the cabin, +everything else that occurred that morning on the transport was a blank +to the man; was walled off from his consciousness, and these words were +the first impulse of one returning to a realization of events." + +Sir Henry Marquis reflected. + +"I think they were," he continued. "They have the mark of spontaneity; +of the first disgust of one grasping the fact that he was being +threatened." + +The Baronet paused. + +"The event had a great effect on England," he said. "And it helped to +restore our shattered respect for a desperate enemy. The Hun commander +didn't sink the transport, and he didn't shoot St. Alban. It's true +there was a sort of gentleman's agreement among the enemies that +hospital transports should not be sunk. + +"But anything was likely to happen just then. The Hun had failed to +subjugate the world, and he was a barbarous, mad creature. England +believed that something noble in St. Alban worked the miracle. + +"'You're a brave man!' + +"Some persons on the transport testified to such a comment from the +submarine commander. At any rate, he went back to his U-boat and the +undersea. + +"That's the last they saw of him. The transport came on into Dover. + +"England thought the affair was one of the adventures of the sea. +A chance thing, that happened by accident. But there was one man in +England who knew better." + +"You?" I said. + +The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + +"St. Alban," he answered. + +He got up and began to walk about the terrace. I sat with the cup of +tea cooling before me. The big man walked slowly with his fingers linked +behind him. Finally he stopped. His voice was deep and reflective. + +"'Man is altogether the sport of fortune!'... I read that in Herodotus, +in a form at Rugby. I never thought about it again. But it's God's +truth. St. Alban was at Rugby. I often wonder if he remembered it. My +word, he lived to verify it! Herodotus couldn't cite a case to equal +him. And the old Greek wasn't hemmed in by the truth. I maintain that +the man's case has no parallel. + +"To have all the painstaking labor of years negatived by one enveloping, +vicious misfortune; to be beaten out of life by it, and at the same time +to gain that monument out yonder and one's niche as hero by the grim +device of an enemy's satire; by the acting of a scene that one +would never have taken part in if one had realized it, is beyond any +complication of tragedy known to the Greek. + +"Look at the three strange phases of it: To be a mediocre Englishman +with no special talent; to die in horrible despair; and to leave behind +a glorious legend. And for all these three things to contradict one +another in the same life is unequaled in the legends of any people." + +The Baronet went on in a deep level voice. + +"There was a vicious vitality behind the whole desperate business. Every +visible impression of the thing was wrong. Every conception of it held +today by the English people is wrong! + +"The German submarine didn't overhaul the hospital transport in the +Channel by accident. The Hun commander didn't fail to sink the transport +out of any humane motives. He didn't fail to shoot St. Alban because he +was moved by the heroism of the man. It was all grim calculation! + +"He thought it was safe to let St. Alban go ahead. And he would have +been right if St. Alban had been the great egotist that he was. + +"The commander of that submarine was Plutonburg of Prussia. He was the +right-hand man of old Von Tirpitz. He was the one man in the German navy +who never ceased to urge its Admiralty to sink everything. He loathed +every fiber of the English people. We had all sorts of testimony to +that. The trawlers and freightboat captains brought it in. He staged +his piracies to a theatrical frightfulness. 'Old England!' he would say, +when he climbed up out of the sea onto the deck of a British ship and +looked about him at the sailors, 'Old, is right, old and rotten!' Then +he would smite his big chest and quote the diatribes of Treitschke. +'But in a world that the Prussian inhabits a nation, old and rotten, may +endure for a time, but it shall not endure forever!' + +"Plutonburg didn't let St. Alban and the transport go ahead out of the +promptings of a noble nature. He did it because he hated England, and +he wanted St. Alban to live on in the hell he had trapped him into. He +counted on his keeping silent. But the Hun made a mistake. + +"St. Alban didn't measure up to the standard of Prussian egoism by which +Plutonburg estimated him." + +Sir Henry continued in the same even voice. The levels of emotion in his +narrative did not move him. + +"Did you ever see the picture of Plutonburg, in Munich? He had a face +like Chemosh. And he dressed the part. Other under-boat commanders wore +the conventional naval cap, but Plutonburg always wore a steel helmet +with a corrugated earpiece. Some artist under the frightfulness dogma +must have designed it for him. It framed his face down to the jaw. The +face looked like it was set in iron, and it was a thick-lidded, heavy, +menacing face; the sort of face that a broad-line cartoonist gives to a +threatening war-joss. At any rate, that's how the picture presents him. +One thinks of Attila under his ox head. You can hardly imagine anything +human in it, except a cruel satanic humor. + +"He must have looked like Beelzebub that morning, on the transport, when +he let St. Alban go on." + +The Baronet looked down at me. + +"Now, that's the truth about the fine conduct of Plutonburg that England +applauded as an act of chivalry. It was a piece of sheer, hellish +malignity, if there ever was an instance." + +Sir Henry took a turn across the terrace, for a moment silent. Then he +went on: + +"And in fact, everything in the heroic event on the deck of the +transport was a pretense. The Hun didn't intend to shoot St. Alban. As I +have said, Plutonburg had him in just the sort of hell he wanted him in, +and he didn't propose to let him out with a bullet. And St. Alban ought +to have known it, unless, as he afterwards said, the whole thing +from the first awful moment in the cabin was simply walled out of his +consciousness, until he began dimly to realize up there in the sun, in +the crowd, that he was being threatened and blurted out his words from a +sort of awful disgust." + +Again he paused. + +"Plutonburg was right about having St. Alban in the crater of the pit. +But he was wrong to measure him by his Prussian standard. St. Alban came +on to London. He got the heads of the War Office together and told +them. I was there. It was the devil's own muddle of a contrast. Outside, +London was ringing with the man's striking act of personal heroism. +And inside of the Foreign Office three or, four amazed persons were +listening to the bitter truth." + +The Baronet spread out his hands with a sudden gesture. + +"I shall always remember the man's strange, livid face; his fingers that +jumped about the cuff of his coat sleeve; and his shaking jaw." + +Sir Henry went over and sat down at the table. For a good while he was +silent. The sun filtering through the limbs of the great oak-trees made +mottled spots on his face. He seemed to turn away from the thing he had +been concerned with, and to see something else, something wholly apart +and at a distance from St. Alban's affairs. + +"You must have wondered like everybody else," he said, "why the Allied +drive on the Somme accomplished so little at first. Both England and +France had made elaborate preparations for it over a long period of +time. Every detail had been carefully, worked out. Every move had been +estimated with mathematical exactness. + +"The French divisions had been equipped and strategically grouped. +England had put a million of fresh troops into France. And the line of +the drive had been mapped. The advance, when it was opened on the first +day of July, ought to have gone forward irresistibly from cog to cog +like a wheel of a machine on the indentations of a track. But the thing +didn't happen that way. The drive sagged and stuck." + +The big Englishman pressed the table with his clinched hand. + +"My word!" he said, "is it any wonder that the devil, Plutonburg, +grinned when he put up his automatic pistol? Why shoot the Englishman? +He would do it himself soon enough. He was right about that. If he had +only been right about his measure of St. Alban, the drive on the Somme +would have been a ghastly catastrophe for the Allied armies." + +I hesitated to interrupt Sir Henry. But he had got my interest +desperately worked up about what seemed to me great unjointed segments +of this affair, that one couldn't understand till they were put +together. I ventured a query. + +"How did St. Alban come to be on the hospital transport?" I said. "Was +he in the English army in France?" + +"Oh, no," he said. "When the war opened St. Alban was in the Home +Office, and, he set out to make England spy-proof. He organized the +Confidential Department, and he went to work to take every precaution. +He wasn't a great man in any direction, but he was a careful, thorough +man. And with tireless, never-ceasing, persistent effort, he very nearly +swept England clean of German espionage." + +Sir Henry spoke with vigor and decision. + +"Now, that's what St. Alban did in England--not because he was a man of +any marked ability, but because he was a persistent person dominated by +a single consuming idea. He started out to rid England of every form of +espionage. And when he had accomplished that, as the cases of Ernest, +Lody, and Schultz eloquently attest, he determined to see that every +move of the English expeditionary force on the Continent should be +guarded from German espionage." + +Sir Henry paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it. It was cold, +and he put the cup down on the table. + +"That's how St. Alban came to be in France," he said. "The great drive +on the Somme had been planned at a meeting of military leaders in Paris. +The French were confident that they could keep their plans secret from +German espionage. They admitted frankly that signals were wirelessed out +of France. But they had taken such precautions that only the briefest +signals could go out. + +"The Government radio stations were always alert. And they at once +negatived any unauthorized wireless so that German spies could only snap +out a signal or two at any time. They could do this, however. + +"They had a wireless apparatus inside a factory chimney at Auteuil. It +wasn't located until the war was nearly over. + +"The French didn't undertake to say that they could make their country +spy-proof. They knew that there were German agents in France that nobody +could tell from innocent French people. But they did undertake to say +that nothing could be carried over into the German lines. And they +justified that promise. They did see that nothing was carried out of +France." The Baronet looked at me across the table. + +"Now, that's what took St. Alban across the Channel," he said. "The +English authorities wanted to be certain that there was no German +espionage. And there was no man in England able to be certain of that +except St. Alban. He went over to make sure. If the plans for the Somme +drive should get out of France, they should not get out through any +English avenue." + +The Baronet paused. + +"St. Alban went about the thing in his thorough, persistent manner. He +didn't trust to subordinates. He went himself. That's what took him out +on the English line. And that's how he came to be wounded in the elbow. + +"It wasn't very much of a wound--a piece of shrapnel nearly spent when +it hit him. But the French hospital service was very much concerned. It +gave him every attention. + +"The man came into Paris when he had finished. The French authorities +put him up at the Hotel Meurice. You know the Hotel Meurice. It's on +the Rue de la Rivoli. It looks out over the garden of the Tuileries. St. +Alban was satisfied with the condition of affairs in France, and he was +anxious to go back to London. Arrangements had been made for him to go +on the hospital transport. + +"He was in his room at the Meurice waiting for the train to Calais. He +was, in fact, fatigued with the attention the French authorities had +given him. Everything that one could think of had been anticipated, he +said. He thought there could be nothing more. Then there was a timid +knock, and a nurse came in to say that she had been sent to see that the +dressing on his arm was all right. He said that he had found it easier +to submit to the French attentions than to undertake to explain that he +didn't need them. + +"He was busy with some final orders, so he put out his arm and allowed +the nurse to take the pins out of the split sleeve and adjust the +dressing. She put on some bandages, made a little timid curtsey and went +out. + +"St. Alban didn't think of it again until the German U-boat stopped the +transport the next morning in the Channel. He wasn't disturbed when the +submarine commander came into his cabin. He knew enough not to carry +any papers about with him. But Plutonburg didn't bother himself about +luggage. He'd had his signal from the factory chimney at Auteuil. +He stood there grinning in the cabin before St. Alban; that Satanic, +Chemosh grin that the artist got in the Munich picture. + +"'I used to be something of a surgeon,' he said, 'Doctor Ulrich von +Plutonburg, if you will remember. I'll take a look at your arm.' + +But, Alban said he thought the man might be moved by some humane +consideration, so he put out his arm. + +"Plutonburg took the pins out of the sleeve and removed the bandage that +the nurse had put on in the Hotel Meurice. Then he held it up. The +long, cotton bandage was lined with glazed cambric, and on it, in minute +detail, was the exact position of all the Allied forces along the whole +front in the region of the Somme, precisely as they had been massed for +the drive on July first!" + +I cried out in astonishment. "So that's what you meant," I said, "by the +trailed thing turning on him!" + +"Precisely," replied the Baronet. "The very thing that St. Alban labored +to prevent another from doing, he did awfully himself!" + +The big Englishman's fingers drummed on the table. + +"It was a great moment for Plutonburg," he said. "No living man but that +Prussian could have put the Satanic humor into the rest of the affair." + +He paused as under the pressure of the memory. + +"St. Alban always maintained that from the moment he saw the long map on +the bandage everything blurred around him, and began to clear only when +he spoke on the deck. He used to curse this blur. It made him a national +figure and immortal, but it prevented him, he said, from striking the +Prussian in the face." + + + + +XVI. The House by the Loch + + +There was a snapping fire in the chimney. I was cold through and I was +glad to stand close beside it on the stone hearth. My greatcoat had kept +out the rain, but it had not kept out the chill of the West Highland +night. I shivered before the fire, my hands held out to the flame. + +It was a long, low room. There was an ancient guncase on one side, +but the racks were empty except for a service pistol hanging by its +trigger-guard from the hook. There were some shelves of books on the +other side. But the conspicuous thing in the room was an image of Buddha +in a glass box on the mantelpiece. + +It was about four inches high, cast in silver and, I thought, of immense +age. + +I had to wait for my uncle to come in. But I had enough to think about. +Every event connected with this visit seemed to touch on some mystery. +There was his strange letter to me in reply to my note that I was in +England and coming up to Scotland. Surely no man ever wrote a queerer +letter to a nephew coming on a visit to him. + +It dwelt on the length of the journey and the remoteness of the place. I +was to be discouraged in every sentence. I was to carry his affectionate +regards to the family in America and say that he was in health. + +It stood out plainly that I was not wanted. + +This was strange in itself, but it was not the strangest thing about +this letter. The strangest thing was a word written in a shaky cramped +hand on the back of the sheet: the letters huddled together: "Come!" + +I would have believed my uncle justified in his note. It was a long +journey. I had great difficulty to find anyone to take me out from the +railway station. There were idle men enough, but they shook their heads +when I named the house. Finally, for a double wage, I got an old gillie +with a cart to bring me as far on the way as the highroad ran. But he +would not turn into the unkept road that led over the moor to the house. +I could neither bribe nor persuade him. There was no alternative but to +set out through the mist with my bag on my shoulder. + +Night was coming on. The moor was a vast wilderness of gorse. The house +loomed at the foot of it and beyond the loch that made a sort of estuary +for the open sea. Nor was this the only thing. I got the impression as I +tramped along that I was not alone on the moor. I don't know out of what +evidences the impression was built up. I felt that someone was in the +gorse beyond the road. + +The house was closed up like a sleeping eye when I got before it. It was +a big, old, rambling stone house with a tangle of vines half torn away +by the winds: I hammered on the door and finally an aged man-servant +holding a candle high above his head let me in. + +This was the manner of my coming to Saint Conan's Landing. + +I had some supper of cold meat brought in by this aged servant. He was a +shrunken derelict of a human figure. He was disturbed at my arrival +and ill at ease. But I thought there was relief and welcome in his +expression. The master would be in directly; he would light a fire in +the drawing-room and prepare a bedchamber for me. + +One would hardly find outside of England such faithful creatures +clinging to the fortunes of descending men. He was at the end of life +and in some fearful perplexity, but one felt there was something stanch +and sound in him. + +I had no doubt that there, under my eye, was the hand that had added the +cramped word to my uncle's letter. + +I stood now before the fire in the long, low room. The flames and a tall +candle at either end of the mantelpiece lit it up. I was looking at the +Buddha in the glass box. I could not imagine a thing more out of note. +Surely of all corners of the world this wild moor of the West Highlands +was the least suited to an Oriental cult. The elements seemed under no +control of Nature. The land was windswept, and the sea came crying into +the loch. + +I suppose it was the mood of my queer experiences that set me at this +speculation. + +One would expect to find some evidences of India in my uncle's house. +He had been a long time in Asia, on the fringes of the English service. +Toward the end he had been the Resident at the court of an obscure Rajah +in one of the Northwest Provinces. It was on the edge of the Empire +where it touches the little-known Mongolian states south of the Gobi. + +The Home Office was only intermittently in touch with him. But +something, never explained, finally drew its attention and he was put +out of India. No one knew anything about it; "permitted to retire," was +the text of the brief official notice. + +And he had retired to the most remote place he could find in the British +islands. There was no other house on that corner of the coast. The man +was as alone as he would have been in the Gobi. + +If he had planned to be alone one would have believed he had succeeded +in that intention. And yet from the moment I got down from the gillie's +cart I seemed drawn under a persisting surveillance. I felt now that +some one was looking at me. I turned quickly. There was a door at the +end of the room opening onto a bit of garden facing the sea. A man +stood, now, just inside this door, his hand on the latch. His head and +shoulders were stooped as though he had been there some moments, as +though he had let himself noiselessly in, and remained there watching me +before the fire. + +But if so, he was prepared against my turning. He snapped the latch and +came down the room to where I stood. + +He was a big stoop-shouldered Englishman with a pale, pasty face +beginning to sag at the jowls. There was a queer immobility about the +features as though the man were always in some fear. His eyes were a +pale tallow color and seemed too small for their immense sockets. One +could see that the man had been a gentleman. I write it in the past, +because at the moment I felt it as in the past. I felt that something +had dispossessed him. + +"This will be Robin," he said. "My dear fellow, it was fine of you to +travel all this way to see me." + +He had a nervous cold hand with hardly any pressure in the grasp of it. +His thin black hair was brushed across the top of his bald head, and the +distended, apprehensive expression on his face did not change. + +He made me sit down by the fire and asked me about the family +in America. But there was, I thought, no real interest in this +interrogation until he came to a reflective comment. + +"I should like to go to America," he said; "there must be great wastes +of country where one would be out of the world." + +The sincerity of this expression stood out in the trivial talk. It +indicated something that disturbed the man. He was as isolated as he +could get in England, but that was not enough. + +He sat for a moment silent, the fingers of his nervous hand moving on +his knee. When he glanced up, with a sudden jerk of his head, he +caught me looking at the little image of Buddha in its glass box on the +mantelpiece. + +Was this longing for solitude the influence of this mysterious religion? + +Remote, lonely isolation was a cult of Buddha. The devotees of that cult +sought the waste places of the earth for their meditations. To be out +of the world, in its physical contact, was a prime postulate in the +practice of this creed. + +"Ah, Robin," he cried, as though he were in a jovial mood and careless +of the subject, "do you have a hobby?" + +I answered that I had not felt the need of one. The inquiry was a +surprise and I could think of nothing better to reply with. + +"Then, my boy," he went on, "what will you do when you are old? One must +have something to occupy the mind." + +He got up and turned the glass box a little on the mantelpiece. + +"This is a very rare image," he said; "one does not find this image +anywhere in India. It came from Tibet. The expression and the pose of +the figure differ from the conventional Buddha. You might not see that, +but to any one familiar with this religion these differences are +marked. This is a monastery image, and you will see that it is cast, not +graven." + +He beckoned me to come closer, and I rose and stood beside him. He went +on as with a lecture: + +"The reason given by the natives why this image is not found in Southern +Asia is that it cannot be cast anywhere but in the Tibetan monasteries. +A certain ritual at the time of casting is necessary to produce a +perfect figure. This ritual is a secret of the Khan monasteries. +Castings of this form of image made without the ritual are always +defective; so I was told in India." + +He moved the glass box a little closer to the edge of the mantelpiece. + +"Naturally," he went on, "I considered this story, to be a mere piece of +religious pretension. It amused me to make some experiments, and to +my surprise the castings were always defective. I brought the image to +England." + +He shrugged his shoulders as with a careless gesture. + +"In my idle time here I tried it again. And incredibly the result was +always the same; some portion of the figure showed a flaw. My interest +in the thing was permanently aroused. I continued to experiment." + +He laughed in a queer high cackle. + +"And presently I found myself desperately astride a hobby. I got all the +Babbitt metal that I could buy up in England and put in the days and +not a few of the nights in trying to cast a perfect figure of this +confounded Buddha. But I have never been able to do it." + +He opened a drawer of the gun-case and brought over to the fire half a +dozen castings of the Buddha in various sizes. + +Not one among the number was perfect. Some portion of the figure was in +every case wanting. A hand would be missing, a portion of a shoulder, a +bit of the squat body or there would be a flaw where the running metal +had not filled the mold. + +"I'm hanged," he cried, "if the beggars are not right about it. The +thing can't be done! I've tried it in all sorts of dimensions. You will +see some of the big figures in the garden. I've used a ton of metal and +every sort of mold." + +Then he flung his hand out toward the bookcase. + +"I've studied the art of molding in soft metal. I have all the books +on it, and I've turned the boathouse into a sort of shop. I've spent a +hundred pounds--and I can't do it!" + +He paused, his big face relaxed. + +"The country thinks I'm mad, working with such outlandish deviltry. But, +curse the thing, I have set out to do it and I am not going to throw it +up." + +And suddenly with an unexpected heat he damned the Buddha, shaking his +clenched hand before the box. + +"Your pardon, Robin," he cried, the moment after. "But the thing's +ridiculous, you know. The ritual story would be sheer rubbish. The +beggars could not affect a metal casting with a form of words." + +I have tried to set down here precisely what my uncle said. It was +the last talk I ever had with the man in this world, and it profoundly +impressed me. He was in fear, and his jovial manner was a ghastly +pretence. I left him sitting by the fire drinking neat whisky from a +tumbler. + +The old man-servant took me up to my room. It was a big room in a wing +of the house looking out on the garden and the sea. I saw that it had +been cleaned and made ready against my coming; clearly the old man +expected me. + +He put the candle on the table and laid back the covers of the bed. And +suddenly I determined to have the matter out with him. + +"Andrew," I said, "why did you add that significant word to my uncle's +letter?" + +He turned sharply with a little whimpering cry. + +"The master, sir!" he said, and then he stopped as though uncertain +in what manner to go on. He made a hopeless sort of gesture with his +extended hands. + +"I thought your coming might interrupt the thing.... You are of his +family and would be silent." + +"What threatens my uncle?" I cried, "What is the thing?" + +He hesitated, his eyes moving about the floor. + +"Oh, sir," he said, "the master is in some wicked and dangerous +business. You heard his talk, sir; that would not be the talk of a man +at peace.... He has strange visitors, sir, and the place is watched. I +cannot tell you any more than that, except that something is going to +happen and I am shaken with the fear of it." + +I looked out through the musty curtains before I went to bed. But +the whole world was dark, packed down in the thick mist. Once, in the +direction of the open sea, I thought I saw the flicker of a light. + +I was tired and I slept profoundly, but somewhere in the sleep I saw my +uncle and a priest of Tibet gibbering over a ladle of molten silver. + +It was nearly midday when I awoke. The whole world had changed as under +some enchantment; there was brilliant sun and afresh stimulating air +with the salt breath of the sea in it. Old Andrew gave me some breakfast +and a message. + +His manner like everything else seemed to have undergone some +transformation. He was silent and, I thought, evasive. He repeated the +message without comment, as though he had committed it to memory from an +unfamiliar language: + +"The master directed me to say that he must make a journey to Oban. It +is urgent business and will not be laid over." + +"When does my uncle return," I said. + +The old man shifted his weight from one foot to the other; he looked +out through the open window onto the strip of meadow extending into the +loch. Finally he replied: + +"The master did not name the hour of his return." + +I did not press the interrogation. I felt that there was something here +that the old man was keeping back; but I had an impression of equal +force that he ought to be allowed the run of his discretion with it. +Besides, the brilliant morning had swept out my sinister impressions. + +I got my cap and stick from the rack by the door and went out. The house +was within a hundred paces of the loch, in a place of wild beauty on +a bit of moor, yellow with gorse, extending from the great barren +mountains behind it right down into the water. Immense banners of mist +lay along the tops of these mountain peaks, and streams of water like +skeins of silk marked the deep gorges in dazzling whiteness. + +The loch was a crooked finger of the sea hooked into the land. It was +clear as glass in the bright morning. The open sea was directly beyond +the crook of the finger, barred out by a nest of needlepointed rocks. On +this morning, with the sea motionless, they stood up like the teeth of a +harrow, but in heavy weather I imagined that the waves covered them. To +the eye they were not the height of a man above the level water; they +glistened in the brilliant sun like a sheaf of black pikes. + +This was Saint Conan's Landing, and it occurred to me that if the holy +man came in rough weather from the Irish coast he required, in truth, +all the perspicacity of a saint to get his boat in without having it +impaled on these devil's needles. + +There was no garden to speak of about the house. It was grown up like +the moor. Two or three images of Buddhas stood about in it; one of them +was quite large--three feet in height I should say at a guess. They +were on rough stone pedestals. I examined them carefully. They were all +defective; the large one had an immense flaw in the shoulder. The gorse +nearly covered them; the unkept hedge let the moor in and there were no +longer any paths, except one running to the boathouse. + +I did not follow the path. But I looked down at the boathouse with some +interest. This was the building that my uncle had turned into a sort of +foundry for his weird experiments. There was a big lock on the door and +a coal-blacked chimney standing above the roof. + +It was afternoon. The whole coast about me was like an undiscovered +country. I hardly knew in what direction to set out on my exploration. +I stood in the path digging my stick into the gravel and undecided. +Finally I determined to cross the bit of moor to the high ground +overlooking the loch. It was the sloping base of one of the great peaks +and purple with heather. It looked the best point for a full sweep of +the sea and the coast. + +I jumped the hedge and set out across the moor to the high ground. + +There was no path through the gorse, but when I reached the heather +where the foot of the mountain peak descended into the loch there was +a sort of newly broken trail. The heather was high and dense and I +followed the trail onto the high ground overlooking the sweep of the +coast. + +The loch was dappled with sun. The air was like wine. The mountains +above the moor and the heather were colored like an Oriental carpet. +I was full of the joy of life and swung into an immense stride, when +suddenly a voice stopped me. + +"My lad," it said, "which one of the Ten Commandments is it the most +dangerous to break?" + +Before me, at the end of the trail, seated on the ground, was a big +Highlander. He was knitting a woolen stocking and his needles were +clicking like an instrument. I was taken off my feet, but I tried to +meet him on his ground. + +"Well," I answered, "I suppose it would be the one against murder, the +sixth." + +"You suppose wrong," he replied. "It will be the first. You will read +in the Book how Jehovah set aside the sixth. Aye, my lad, He ordered it +broken when it pleased Him. But did you ever read that He set aside the +first or that any man escaped who broke it?" + +He spoke with the deep rich burr of his race and with a structure of +speech that I cannot reproduce here. + +"Did you observe," he added, "the graven images that your uncle has set +up?... Where is the man the noo?" + +"He is gone to Oban," I said. + +He sprang up and thrust the stocking and needles into his sporran. + +"To Oban!" He stood a moment in some deep reflection. "There will be +ships out of Oban." Then he put another question to me: + +"What did auld Andrew say about it?" + +"That my uncle was gone to Oban," I answered, "and had set no time for +his return." + +He looked at me queerly for a moment, towering above me in the deep +heather. + +"Do you think, my lad, that your uncle could be setting out for heathen +parts to learn the witch words for his hell business in the boathouse?" + +The suggestion startled me. The thing was not beyond all possibility. + +But I felt that I had come to the end of this examination. I was not +going to be questioned further like a small boy overtaken on the road I +had answered a good many questions and I determined to ask one. + +"Who are you?" I said. "And what have you got to do with my uncle's +affairs?" + +He cocked his eye at me, looking down as one looks down at a child. + +"The first of your questions," he said, "you will find out if you +can, and the second you cannot find out if you will." And he was gone, +striding past me in the deep heather. + +"I have some business with your uncle, of a pressing nature," he called +back. "I will just take a look through Oban, the night and the morn's +morn." + +I was utterly at sea about the big Highlander. He might be a friend +or an enemy of my uncle. But clearly he knew all about the man and the +mysterious experiment in which he was engaged. He was keeping the place +well within his eye; that was also evident. From his seat in the heather +the whole place was spread out below him. + +And his queer speech fitted with old Andrew's fear. Surely the Buddha +was a heathen image and my uncle had set it up. The stern Scotch +conscience would be outraged and see the Decalogue violated in its +injunctions. This would explain the dread with which my uncle's house +was regarded and the reason I could find no man to help me on the way to +it. But it would not explain my uncle's apprehension. + +But my adventure on this afternoon did not end with the big Highlander. +I found out something more. + +I returned along the edge of the loch and approached the boathouse from +the waterside. + +Here the path passed directly along the whole wall of the building. The +path was padded with damp sod, and as it happened I made no sound on it. +It was late afternoon, the shadows were beginning to extend, there was +no wind and the whole world was intensely quiet. Midway of the wall I +stopped to listen. + +The house was not empty. There was some one in it. I could hear him +moving about. + +It was of no use to try to look in through the wall; every joint and +crack of the stones was plastered. I went on. + +Old Andrew was about setting me some supper. He came over and stood a +moment by the window looking at the shadows on the loch. And I tried to +take him unaware with a sudden question: + +"Has my uncle returned from Oban?" + +But I had no profit of the venture. + +"The master," he said, "is where he went this morning." + +The strange elements in this affair seemed on the point of converging +upon some common center. The thing was in the air. Old Andrew voiced it +when he went out with his candle. + +"Ah, sir," he said, "it was the fool work of an old man to bring you +into this affair. The master will have his way and he must meet what +waits for him at the end of it." + +I saw how he hoped that my visit might interrupt some plan that my uncle +was about to put into effect, but realized that it was useless. + +Clearly my uncle had not left the place; he had been at work all day in +the boathouse. The journey was to account to me for his disappearance. I +had passed the lie along to the queer sentinel that sat watching in the +heather and I wondered whether I had sent a friend or an enemy into Oban +on an empty mission, and whether I had fouled or forwarded my uncle's +enterprise. + +I put out the candle and sat down by the window to keep watch, for the +boathouse, the loch and the open sea were under the sweep of it. But, +alas, Nature overreaches our resolves when we are young. It was far into +the night when I awoke. + +A wind was coming up and I think it was the rattle of the window that +aroused me. There was no moon, but under the open stars the world was +filled with a thin, ghostly light, and the scene below the window was +blurred a little like an impalpable picture. + +A low-masted sailing ship lay in the open sea; there was a boat at the +edge of the loch, and human figures were coming out of the boathouse +with burdens which they were loading into the boat. Almost immediately +the boat, manned with rowers, turned about and silently traversed the +crook of the loch on its way to the ship. But certain of the human +figures remained. They continued between the boathouse and the beach. + +And I realized that I had opened my eyes on the loading of a ship. The +boat was taking off a cargo. + +Something stored in the boathouse was being transferred to the hold of +the sailing ship. The scene was inconceivably unreal. There was no +sound but the intermittent puffs of the wind, and the figures were like +phantoms in a sort of lighted mist. Directly as I looked two figures +came out of the boathouse and along the path to the drawing-room door +under my window. I took off my shoes and crept carefully out of the room +and down the stairway. The door from the hall into the long, low room +was ajar. I stood behind it, and looked in through the crack. + +My uncle was burning letters and papers in the fireplace with a candle, +and in the chair beyond him sat the strangest human creature that I had +ever seen in the world. + +He was a big Oriental with a sodden, brutal face fixed as by some +sorcery into an expression of eternal calm. He wore the uniform of an +English skipper. It was dirty and sea-stained as though picked up at +some sailor's auction. He was speaking to my uncle and his careful +precise sentences in the English tongue, coming from the creature, +seemed thereby to take on added menace. + +"Is it wise, Sahib," he said, "to leave any man behind us in this +house?" + +"We can do nothing else," replied my uncle. + +The Oriental continued with the same carefully selected words: + +"Easily we can do something else, Sahib," he said, "with a bar of pig +securely lashed to the ankles, the sea would receive them." + +"No, no," replied my uncle, busy with his letters and the candle. The +big Oriental did not move. + +"Reflect, Sahib," he went on. "We are entering an immense peril. The +thing that will be hunting us has innumerable agencies everywhere in +its service. If it shall discover that we have falsified its symbols, +it will search the earth for us. And what are we, Sahib, against this +thing? It does not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary." + +"The lad knows nothing," replied my uncle, "and old Andrew will keep +silent." + +"Without trouble, Sahib," the creature continued, "I can put the young +one beyond all knowledge and the old one beyond all speech. Is it +permitted?" + +My uncle got up from the fireplace, for he had finished with his work. + +"No," he said, "let there be an end of it." + +He turned about, and under the glimmer of the candle I could see that +the man had changed; his big pale face was grim with some determined +purpose, and there was about him the courage and the authority of one +who, after long wavering, at last hazards a desperate venture. He broke +the glass box and put the Buddha into his pocket. + +"It is good silver," he said, "and it has served its purpose." + +The Oriental got softly onto his feet like a great toy of cotton wood. +His face remained in its expression of equanimity, and he added no +further word of gesture to his argument. + +My uncle held the door open for him to pass out, and after that he +extinguished the candle and followed, closing the door noiselessly +behind him. + +The thing was like a scene acted in a playhouse. But it accomplished +what the playhouse fails in. It put the fear of death into one who +watched it. To me in the dark hall, looking through the crack of the +door, the placid Oriental in his English uniform, and with his precise +words like an Oxford don, was surely the most devilish agency that ever +urged the murder of innocent men on an accomplice. + +The wind was continuing to rise and the mist now covered the loch and +the open sea. It was of no use to stand before the window, for the world +was blotted out. I was cold and I lay down on the bed and wrapped the +covers around me. It seemed only a moment later when old Andrew's hand +was on me, and his thin voice crying in the room. + +"Will you sleep, sir, and God's creatures going to their death!" + +He ran, whimpering in his thin old voice, down the stair, and I followed +him out of the house into the garden. + +It was midmorning. A man was standing before the door, his hands behind +him, looking out at the sea. In his long trousers and bowler hat I +did not at once recognize him for the Highlander of my yesterday's +adventure. + +The coast was in the tail of a storm. The wind boomed, as though puffed +by a bellows, driving in gusts of mist. + +The ship I had seen in the night was hanging in the sea just beyond the +crook of the loch. It fluttered like a snared bird. One could see +the crew trying every device of sail and tacking, but with all their +desperate ingenuities the ship merely hung there shivering like a +stricken creature. + +It was a fearful thing to look at. Now the mist covered everything and +then for a moment the wind swept it out, and all the time, the silent, +deadly struggle went on between the trapped ship and the sea running in +among the needles of the loch. I don't think any of us spoke except the +Highlander once in comment to himself. + +"It's Ram Chad's tramp.... So that's the craft the man was depending +on!" + +Then the mist shut down. When it lifted, the doom of the ship was +written. It was moving slowly into the deadly maw of the loch. + +Again the mist shut down and, when again the wind swept it out, the ship +had vanished. + +There was the open sea and the long swells and the murderous current +boiling around the sharp points of the needles; but there was no ship +nor any human soul of the crew. Old Andrew screamed like a woman at the +sight. + +"The ship!" he cried. "Where is the ship and the master?" + +The thing was so swift and awful that I spoke myself. + +"My God!" I said. "How quickly the thing they feared destroyed them!" + +The big Highlander came over where I stood. The burr of his speech and +its sacred imagery were gone with his change of dress. + +"No," he said, "they escaped the thing they feared.... What do you think +it was?" + +"I don't know," I answered. "The creature in the English uniform said +that it did not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary." + +"Ram Chad was right," replied the Highlander. "The British government +neither dies, ages, nor tires out. Do you realize what your uncle was +doing here?" + +"Molding images of Buddha," I said. + +"Molding Indian rupees," he retorted. + +"The Buddha business was a blind.... I'm Sir Henry Marquis, Chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard. ... We got track of +him in India." + +Then he added: + +"There's a hundred thousand sterling in false coin at the bottom of the +loch yonder!" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by +Melville Davisson Post + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SLEUTH OF ST. JAMES'S SQUARE *** + +***** This file should be named 2861.txt or 2861.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/2861/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg 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. 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THE CAMBERED FOOT + +V. THE MAN IN THE GREEN HAT + +VI. THE WRONG SIGN + +VII. THE FORTUNE TELLER + +VIII. THE HOLE IN THE MAHOGANY PANEL + +IX. THE END OF THE ROAD + +X. THE LAST ADVENTURE + +XI. AMERICAN HORSES + +XII. THE SPREAD RAILS + +XIII. THE PUMPKIN COACH + +XIV. THE YELLOW FLOWER + +XV. A SATIRE OF THE SEA + +XVI. THE HOUSE BY THE LOCH + + + + + +The SLEUTH of St. JAMES'S SQUARE + + + +I. The Thing on the Hearth + + + +"THE first confirmatory evidence of the thing, Excellency, was +the print of a woman's bare foot." + +He was an immense creature. He sat in an upright chair that +seemed to have been provided especially for him. The great bulk +of him flowed out and filled the chair. It did not seem to be +fat that enveloped him. It seemed rather to be some soft, tough +fiber, like the pudgy mass making up the body of a deep-sea +thing. One got an impression of strength. + +The country was before the open window; the clusters of +cultivated shrub on the sweep of velvet lawn extending to the +great wall that inclosed the place, then the bend of the river +and beyond the distant mountains, blue and mysterious, blending +indiscernibly into the sky. A soft sun, clouded with the haze of +autumn, shone over it. + +"You know how the faint moisture in the bare foot will make an +impression." + +He paused as though there was some compelling force in the +reflection. It was impossible to say, with accuracy, to what +race the man belonged. He came from some queer blend of Eastern +peoples. His body and the cast of his features were Mongolian. +But one got always, before him, a feeling of the hot East lying +low down against the stagnant Suez. One felt that he had risen +slowly into our world of hard air and sun out of the vast +sweltering ooze of it. + +He spoke English with a certain care in the selection of the +words, but with ease and an absence of effort, as though +languages were instinctive to him - as though he could speak any +language. And he impressed one with this same effortless +facility in all the things he did. + +It is necessary to try to understand this, because it explains +the conception everybody got of the creature, when they saw him +in charge of Rodman. I am using precisely the descriptive words; +he was exclusively in charge of Rodman, as a jinn in an Arabian +tale might have been in charge of a king's son. + +The creature was servile - with almost a groveling servility. +But one felt that this servility resulted from something potent +and secret. One looked to see Rodman take Solomon's ring out of +his waistcoat pocket. + +I suppose there is no longer any doubt about the fact that Rodman +was one of those gigantic human intelligences who sometimes +appear in the world, and by their immense conceptions dwarf all +human knowledge - a sort of mental monster that we feel nature +has no right to produce. Lord Bayless Truxley said that Rodman +was some generations in advance of the time; and Lord Bayless +Truxley was, beyond question, the greatest authority on synthetic +chemistry in the world. + +Rodman was rich and, everybody supposed, indolent; no one ever +thought very much about him until he published his brochure on +the scientific manufacture of precious stones. Then instantly +everybody with any pretension to a knowledge of synthetic +chemistry turned toward him. + +The brochure startled the world. + +It proposed to adapt the luster and beauty of jewels to commercial +uses. We were being content with crude imitation colors in our +commercial glass, when we could quite as easily have the actual +structure and the actual luster of the jewel in it. We were +painfully hunting over the earth, and in its bowels, for a few +crystals and prettily colored stones which we hoarded and +treasured, when in a manufacturing laboratory we could easily +produce them, more perfect than nature, and in unlimited +quantity. + +Now, if you want to understand what I am printing here about +Rodman, you must think about this thing as a scientific +possibility and not as a fantastic notion. Take, for example, +Rodman's address before the Sorbonne, or his report to the +International Congress of Science in Edinburgh, and you will +begin to see what I mean. The Marchese Giovanni, who was a +delegate to that congress, and Pastreaux, said that the something +in the way of an actual practical realization of what Rodman +outlined was the formulae. If Rodman could work out the +formulae, jewel-stuff could be produced as cheaply as glass, and +in any quantity - by the carload. Imagine it; sheet ruby, sheet +emerald, all the beauty and luster of jewels in the windows of +the corner drugstore! + +And there is another thing that I want you to think about. Think +about the immense destruction of value - not to us, so greatly, +for our stocks of precious stones are not large; but the thing +meant, practically, wiping out all the assembled wealth of Asia +except the actual earth and its structures. + +The destruction of value was incredible. + +Put the thing some other way and consider it. Suppose we should +suddenly discover that pure gold could be produced by treating +common yellow clay with sulphuric acid, or that some genius +should set up a machine on the border of the Sahara that received +sand at one end and turned out sacked wheat at the other! What, +then, would our hoarded gold be worth, or the wheat-lands of +Australia, Canada or our Northwest? + +The illustrations are fantastic. But the thing Rodman was after +was a practical fact. He had it on the way. Giovanni and Lord +Bayless Truxley were convinced that the man would work out the +formulae. They tried, over their signatures, to prepare the world +for it. + +The whole of Asia was appalled. The rajahs of the native states +in India prepared a memorial and sent it to the British +Government. + +The thing came out after the mysterious, incredible tragedy. I +should not have written that final sentence. I want you to +think, just now, about the great hulk of a man that sat in his +big chair beyond me at the window. + +It was like Rodman to turn up with an outlandish human creature +attending him hand and foot. How the thing came about reads like +a lie; it reads like a lie; the wildest lie that anybody ever put +forward to explain a big yellow Oriental following one about. + +But it was no lie. You could not think up a lie to equal the +actual things that happened to Rodman. Take the way he died!.... + +The thing began in India. Rodman had gone there to consult with +the Marchese Giovanni concerning some molecular theory that was +involved in his formulas. Giovanni was digging up a buried +temple on the northern border of the Punjab. One night, in the +explorer's tent, near the excavations, this inscrutable creature +walked in on Rodman. No one knew how he got into the tent or +where he came from. + +Giovanni told about it. The tent-flap simply opened, and the big +Oriental appeared. He had something under his arm rolled up in a +prayer-carpet. He gave no attention to Giovanni, but he salaamed +like a coolie to the little American. + +"Master," he said, "you were hard to find. I have looked over +the world for you." + +And he squatted down on the dirty floor by Rodman's camp stool. + +Now, that's precisely the truth. I suppose any ordinary person +would have started no end of fuss. But not Rodman, and not, I +think, Giovanni. There's the attitude that we can't understand +in a genius - did you ever know a man with an inventive mind who +doubted a miracle? A thing like that did not seem unreasonable +to Rodman. + +The two men spent the remainder of the night looking at the +present that the creature brought Rodman in his prayer-carpet. +They wanted to know where the Oriental got it, and that's how his +story came out. + +He was something - searcher, seems our nearest English word to it +- in the great Shan Monastery on the southeastern plateau of the +Gobi. He was looking for Rodman because he had the light - here +was another word that the two men could find no term in any +modern language to translate; a little flame, was the literal +meaning. + +The present was from the treasure-room of the monastery; the very +carpet around it, Giovanni said, was worth twenty thousand lire. +There was another thing that came out in the talk that Giovanni +afterward recalled. Rodman was to accept the present and the man +who brought it to him. The Oriental would protect him, in every +way, in every direction, from things visible and invisible. He +made quite a speech about it. But, there was one thing from +which he could not protect him. + +The Oriental used a lot of his ancient words to explain, and he +did not get it very clear. He seemed to mean that the creative +Forces of the spirit would not tolerate a division of worship +with the creative forces of the body - the celibate notion in the +monastic idea. + +Giovanni thought Rodman did not understand it; he thought he +himself understood it better. The monk was pledging Rodman to a +high virtue, in the lapse of which something awful was sure to +happen. + +Giovanni wrote a letter to the State Department when he learned +what had happened to Rodman. The State Department turned it over +to the court at the trial. I think it was one of the things that +influenced the judge in his decision. Still, at the time, there +seemed no other reasonable decision to make. The testimony must +have appeared incredible; it must have appeared fantastic. No +man reading the record could have come to any other conclusion +about it. Yet it seemed impossible - at least, it seemed +impossible for me - to consider this great vital bulk of a man as +a monk of one of the oldest religious orders in the world. Every +common, academic conception of such a monk he distinctly +negatived. He impressed me, instead, as possessing the ultimate +qualities of clever diplomacy - the subtle ambassador of some new +Oriental power, shrewd, suave, accomplished. + +When one read the yellow-backed court-record, the sense of old, +obscure, mysterious agencies moving in sinister menace, +invisibly, around Rodman could not be escaped from. You believed +it. Against your reason, against all modern experience of life, +you believed it. + +And yet it could not be true! One had to find that verdict or +topple over all human knowledge - that is, all human knowledge as +we understand it. The judge, cutting short the criminal trial, +took the only way out of the thing. + +There was one man in the world that everybody wished could have +been present at the time. That was Sir Henry Marquis. Marquis +was chief of the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland +Yard. He had been in charge of the English secret service on the +frontier of the Shan states, and at the time he was in Asia. + +As soon as Scotland Yard could release Sir Henry, it sent him. +Rodman's genius was the common property of the world. The +American Government could not, even with the verdict of a trial +court, let Rodman's death go by under the smoke-screen of such a +weird, inscrutable mystery. + +I was to meet Sir Henry and come here with him. But my train +into New England was delayed, and when I arrived at the station, +I found that Marquis had gone down to have a look at Rodman's +country-house, where the thing had happened. + +It was on an isolated forest ridge of the Berkshires, no human +soul within a dozen miles of it - a comfortable stone house in +the English fashion. There was a big drawing-room across one end +of it, with an immense fireplace framed in black marble under a +great white panel to the ceiling. It had a wide black-marble +hearth. There is an excellent photograph of it in the record, +showing the single andiron, that mysterious andiron upon which +the whole tragedy seemed to turn as on a hinge. + +Rodman used this drawing-room for a workshop. He kept it +close-shuttered and locked. Not even this big, yellow, servile +creature who took exclusive care of him in the house was allowed +to enter, except under Rodman's eye. What he saw in the final +scenes of the tragedy, he saw looking in through a crack under +the door. The earlier things he noticed when he put logs on the +fire at dark. + +Time is hardly a measure for the activities of the mind. These +reflections winged by in a scarcely perceptible interval of it. +They have taken me some time to write out here, but they crowded +past while the big Oriental was speaking - in the pause between +his words. + +"The print," he continued, "was the first confirmation of +evidence, but it was not the first indicatory sign. I doubt if +the Master himself noticed the thing at the beginning. The +seductions of this disaster could not have come quickly; and +besides that, Excellency, the agencies behind the material world +get a footing in it only with continuous pressure. Do not +receive a wrong impression, Excellency; to the eye a thing will +suddenly appear, but the invisible pressure will have been for +some time behind that materialization." + +He paused. + +"The Master was sunk in his labor, and while that enveloped him, +the first advances of the lure would have gone by unnoticed - and +the tension of the pressure. But the day was at hand when the +Master was receptive. He had got his work completed; the +formula, penciled out, were on his table. I knew by the +relaxation. Of all periods this is the one most dangerous to the +human spirit." + +He sat silent for a moment, his big fingers moving on the arms of +the chair. + +"I knew," he added. Then he went on: "But it was the one thing +against which I could not protect him. The test was to be +permitted." + +He made a vague gesture. + +"The Master was indicated - but the peril antecedent to his +elevation remained . . . . It was to be permitted, and at its +leisure and in its choice of time." + +He turned sharply toward me, the folds of his face unsteady. + +"Excellency!" he cried. "I would have saved the Master, I would +have saved him with my soul's damnation, but it was not +permitted. On that first night in the Italian's tent I said all +I could." + +His voice went into a higher note. + +"Twice, for the Master, I have been checked and reduced in merit. +For that bias I was myself encircled. I was in an agony of +spirit when I knew that the thing was beginning to advance, but +my very will to aid was at the time environed." + +His voice descended. + +He sat motionless, as though the whole bulk of him were +devitalized, and maintained its outline only by the inclosing +frame of the chair. + +"It began, Excellency, on an August night. There is a chill in +these mountains at sunset. I had put wood into the fireplace, +and lighted it, and was about the house. The Master, as I have +said, had worked out his formulae. He was at leisure. I could +not see him, for the door was closed, but the odor of his cigar +escaped from the room. It was very silent. I was placing the +Master's bed-candle on the table in the hall, when I heard his +voice. . . . You have read it, Excellency, as the scriveners +wrote it down before the judge." + +He paused. + +"It was an exclamation of surprise, of astonishment. Then I +heard the Master get up softly and go over to the fireplace. . . +Presently he returned. He got a new cigar, Excellency, clipped +it and lighted it. I could hear the blade of the knife on the +fiber of the tobacco, and of course, clearly the rasp of the +match. A moment later I knew that he was in the chair again. +The odor of ignited tobacco returned. It was some time before +there was another sound in the room; then suddenly I heard the +Master swear. His voice was sharp and astonished. This time, +Excellency, he got up swiftly and crossed the room to the +fireplace. . . I could hear him distinctly. There was the sound +of one tapping on metal, thumping it, as with the fingers." + +He stopped again, for a brief moment, as in reflection. + +"It was then that the Master unlocked the door and asked for the +liquor." He indicated the court record in my pocket. "I brought +it, a goblet of brandy, with some carbonated water. He drank it +all without putting down the glass . . . . His face was strange, +Excellency . . . . Then he looked at me. + +"`Put a log on the fire,' he said. + +"I went in and added wood to the fire and came out. + +"The Master remained in the doorway; he reentered when I came +out, and closed the door behind him . . . . There was a long +silence after that; them I heard the voice, permitted to the +devocation thin, metallic, offering the barter to the Master. It +began and ceased because the Master was on his feet and before +the fireplace. I heard him swear again, and presently return to +his place by the table." + +The big Oriental lifted his face and looked out at the sweep of +country before the window. + +"The thing went on, Excellency, the voice offering its lure, and +presenting it in brief flashes of materialization, and the Master +endeavoring to seize and detain the visitations, which ceased +instantly at his approach to the hearth." + +The man paused. + +"I knew the Master contended in vain against the thing; if he +would acquire possession of what it offered, he must destroy what +the creative forces of the spirit had released to him." + +Again he paused. + +"Toward morning he went out of the house. I could hear him +walking on the gravel before the door. He would walk the full +length of the house and return. The night was clear; there was a +chill in it, and every sound was audible. + +"That was all, Excellency. The Master returned a little later +and ascended to his bedroom as usual." + +Then he added: + +"It was when I went in to put wood on the fire that I saw the +footprint on the hearth." + +There was a force, compelling and vivid, in these meager details, +the severe suppression of things, big and tragic. No elaboration +could have equaled, in effect, the virtue of this restraint. + +The man was going on, directly, with the story. + +"The following night, Excellency, the thing happened. The Master +had passed the day in the open. He dined with a good appetite, +like a man in health. And there was a change in his demeanor. +He had the aspect of men who are determined to have a thing out +at any hazard. + +"After his dinner the Master went into the drawing-room and +closed the door behind him. He had not entered the room on this +day. It had stood locked and close-shuttered!" + +The big Oriental paused and made a gesture outward with his +fingers, as of one dismissing an absurdity. + +"No living human being could have been concealed in that room. +There is only the bare floor, the Master's table and the +fireplace. The great wood shutters were bolted in, as they had +stood since the Master took the room for a workshop and removed +the furniture. The door was always locked with that special +thief-proof lock that the American smiths had made for it. No +one could have entered." + +It was the report of the experts at the trial. They showed by +the casing of rust on the bolts that the shutters had not been +moved; the walls, ceiling and floor were undisturbed; the throat +of the chimney was coated evenly with old soot. Only the door +was possible as an entry, and this was always locked except when +Rodman was himself in the room. And at such times the big +Oriental never left his post in the hall before it. That seemed +a condition of his mysterious overcare of Rodman. + +Everybody thought the trial court went to an excessive care. It +scrutinized in minute detail every avenue that could possibly +lead to a solution of the mystery. The whole country and every +resident was inquisitioned. The conclusion was inevitable. +There was no human creature on that forest crest of the +Berkshires but Rodman and his servant. + +But one can see why the trial judge kept at the thing; he was +seeking an explanation consistent with the common experience of +mankind. And when he could not find it, he did the only thing he +could do. He was wrong, as we now know. But he had a hold in +the dark on the truth - not the whole truth by any means; he +never had a glimmer of that. He never had the faintest +conception of the big, amazing truth. But as I have said, he had +his fingers on one essential fact. + +The man was going on with a slow, precise articulation as though +he would thereby make a difficult matter clear. + +"The night had fallen swiftly. It was incredibly silent. There +was no sound in the Master's room, and no light except the +flicker of the logs smoldering in the fireplace. The thin line +of it appeared faintly along the sill of the door." + +He paused. + +"The fireplace, Excellency, is at the end of the great room, +directly opposite this door into the hall, before which I always +sat when the Master was within. The fireplace is of black marble +with an immense black-marble hearth. And the gift which I had +brought the Master stands on one side of the fire, on this marble +hearth, as though it were a single andiron." + +The man turned back into the heart of his story. + +"I knew by the vague sense of pressure that the devocations of +the thing were again on the way. And I began to suffer in the +spirit for the Master's safety. Interference, both by act and by +the will, were denied me. But there is an anxiety of spirit, +Excellency, that the uncertainty of an issue makes intolerable." + +The man paused. + +"The pressure continued - and the silence. It was nearly +midnight. I could not distinguish any act or motion of the +Master, and in fear I crept over to the door and looked in +through the crevice along the threshold. + +"The Master sat by his table; he was straining forward, his hands +gripping the arms of his chair. His eyes and every tense +instinct of the man were concentrated on the fireplace. The red +light of the embers was in the room. I could see him clearly, +and the table beyond him with the calculations; but the fireplace +seemed strangely out of perspective - it extended above me. + +"My gift to the Master, not more than four handbreaths in length, +including the base, stood now like an immense bronze on an +extended marble slab beside a gigantic fireplace. This effect of +extension put the top of the fireplace and the enlarged andiron, +above its pedestal, out of my line of vision. Everything else in +the chamber, holding its normal dimensions, was visible to me. + +"The Master's face was a little lifted. He was looking at the +elevated portions of the andiron which were invisible to me. He +did not move. The steady light threw half of his face into +shadow. But in the other half every feature stood out sharply as +in a delicate etching. It had that refined sharpness and +distinction which intense moments of stress stamp on the human +face. He did not move, and there was no sound. + +"I have said, Excellency, that my angle of vision along the +crevice of the doorsill was sharply cut midway of this now +enlarged fireplace. From the direction and lift of the Master's +face, he was watching something above this line and directly over +the pedestal of the andiron. I watched, also, flattening my face +against the sill, for the thing to appear. + +"And it did appear. + +"A naked foot became slowly visible, as though some one were +descending with extreme care from the elevation of the andiron to +the great marble hearth, under this strange enlargement, now some +distance below." + +The big Oriental paused, and looked down at me. + +"I knew then, Excellency, that the Master was lost! The creative +energies of the Spirit suffer no division of worship; those of +the body must be wholly denied. I had warned the Master. And in +travail, Excellency, I turned over with my face to the floor. + +"But there is always hope, hope over the certainties of +experience, over the certainties of knowledge. Perhaps the +Master, even now, sustained in the spirit, would put away the +devocation . . . . No, Excellency, I was not misled. I knew the +Master was beyond hope! But the will to hope moved me, and I +turned back to the crevice at the doorsill." + +He paused. + +"There was now a delicate odor, everywhere, faintly, like the +blossom of the little bitter apple here in your country. The red +embers in the fireplace gave out a steady light; and in the glow +of it, on the marble hearth, stood the one who had descended from +the elevation of the andiron." + +Again the man hesitated, as for an accurate method of expression. + +"In the flesh, Excellency, there was color that would not appear +in the image. The hair was yellow, and the eyes were blue; and +against the black marble of the fireplace the body was +conspicuously white. But in every other aspect of her, +Excellency, the woman was on the hearth in the flesh as she is in +the clutch of the savage male figure in the image. + +"There is no dress or ornament, as you will recall, Excellency. +Not even an ear-jewel or an anklet, as though the graver of the +image felt that the inherent beauty of his figure could take +nothing from these ostentations. The woman's heavy yellow hair +was wound around her head, as in the image. She shivered a +little, faintly, like a naked child in an unaccustomed draught of +air, although she stood on the warm marble hearth and within the +red glow of the fire. + +"The voice from the male figure of the image, which I had brought +the Master, and which stood as the andiron, now so immensely +enlarged, was beginning again to speak. The thin metallic sounds +seemed to splinter against the dense silence, as it went forward +in the ritual prescribed. + +"But the Master had already decided; he stood now on the great +marble hearth with his papers crushed together. And as I looked +on, through the crevice under the doorsill, he put out his free +hand and with his finger touched the woman gently. The flesh +under his finger yielded, and stooping over, he put the formulas +into the fire." + +Like one who has come to the end of his story, the huge Oriental +stopped. He remained for some moments silent. Then he continued +in an even, monotonous voice + +"I got up from the floor then, and purified myself with water. +And after that I went into an upper chamber, opened the window to +the east, and sat down to write my report to the brotherhood. +For the thing which I had been sent to do was finished." + +He put his hand somewhere into the loose folds of his Oriental +garment and brought out a roll of thin vellum like onion-skin, +painted in Chinese characters. It was of immense length, but on +account of the thinness of the vellum, the roll wound on a tiny +cylinder of wood was not above two inches in thickness. + +"Excellency," he said, "I have carefully concealed this report +through the misfortunes that have attended me. It is not certain +that I shall be able to deliver it. Will you give it for me to +the jewel merchant Vanderdick, in Amsterdam? He will send it to +Mahadal in Bombay, and it will go north with the caravans." + +His voice changed into a note of solicitation. + +"You will not fail me, Excellency - already for my bias to the +Master I am reduced in merit." + +I put the scroll into my pocket and went out, for a motorcar had +come into the park, and I knew that Marquis had arrived. + +I met Sir Henry and the superintendent in the long corridor; they +had been looking in at my interview through the elevated grating. + +"Marquis," I cried, "the judge was right to cut short the +criminal trial and issue a lunacy warrant. This creature is the +maddest lunatic in this whole asylum. The human mind is capable +of any absurdity." + +Sir Henry looked at me with a queer ironical smile. + +"The judge was wrong," he said. "The creature, as you call him, +is as sane as any of us." + +"Then you believe this amazing story?" I said. + +"I believe Rodman was found at daylight dead on the hearth, with +practically every bone in his body crushed," he replied. + +"Certainly," I said. "We all know that is true. But why was he +killed?' + +Again Sir Henry regarded me with his ironical smile. + +"Perhaps," he drawled, "there is some explanation in the report +in your pocket, to the Monastic Head. It's only a theory, you +know." + +He smiled, showing his white, even teeth. + +We went into the superintendent's room, and sat down by a +smoldering fire of coals in the gate. I handed Marquis the roll +of vellum. It was in one of the Shan dialects. He read it +aloud. With the addition of certain formal expressions, it +contained precisely the Oriental's testimony before the court, +and no more. + +"Ah!" he said in his curiously inflected Oxford voice. + +And he held the scroll out to the heat of the fire. The vellum +baked slowly, and as it baked, the black Chinese characters faded +out and faint blue ones began to appear. + +Marquis read the secret message in his emotionless drawl: + +"`The American is destroyed, and his accursed work is destroyed +with him. Send the news to Bangkok and west to Burma. The +treasures of India are saved."' + +I cried out in astonishment. + +"An assassin! The creature was an assassin! He killed Rodman +simply by crushing him in his arms!" + +Sir Henry's drawl lengthened. + +"It's Lal Gupta," he said, "the cleverest Oriental in the whole of +Asia. The jewel-traders sent him to watch Rodman, and to kill +him if he was ever able to get his formulae worked out. They +must have paid him an incredible sum." + +"And that is why the creature attached himself to Rodman!" I +said. + +"Surely," replied Sir Henry. "He brought that bronze Romulus +carrying off the Sabine woman and staged the supernatural to work +out his plan and to save his life. I knew the bronze as soon as +I got my eye on it - old Franz Josef gave it as a present to +Mahadal in Bombay for matching up some rubies." + +I swore bitterly. + +"And we took him for a lunatic!" + +"Ah, yes!" replied Sir Henry. "What was it you said as I came +in? `The human mind is capable of any absurdity!'" + + + + +II. The Reward + + +I was before one of those difficult positions unavoidable to a +visitor in a foreign country. + +I had to meet the obligations of professional courtesy. Captain +Walker had asked me to go over the manuscript of his memoirs; and +now he had called at the house in which I was a guest, for my +opinion. We had long been friends; associated in innumerable +cases, and I wished to suggest the difficulty rather than to +express it. It was the twilight of an early Washington winter. +The lights in the great library, softened with delicate shades, +had been turned on. Outside, Sheridan Circle was almost a thing +of beauty in its vague outlines; even the squat, ridiculous +bronze horse had a certain dignity in the blue shadow. + +If one had been speculating on the man, from his physical aspect +one would have taken Walker for an engineer of some sort, rather +than the head of the United States Secret Service. His lean face +and his angular manner gaffe that impression. Even now, +motionless in the big chair beyond the table, he seemed - how +shall I say it? - mechanical. + +And that was the very defect in his memoir. He had cut the great +cases into a dry recital. There was no longer in them any +pressure of a human impulse. The glow of inspired detail had +been dissected out. Everything startling and wonderful had been +devitalized. + +The memoir was a report. + +The bulky typewritten manuscript lay on the table beside the +electric lamp, and I stood about uncertain how to tell him. + +"Walker," I said, "did nothing wonderful ever happen to you in +the adventure of these cases?" + +"What precisely do you mean, Sir Henry?" he replied. + +The practical nature of the man tempted me to extravagance. + +"Well," I said, "for example, were you never kissed in a lonely +street by a mysterious woman and the flash of your dark lantern +reveal a face of startling beauty?" + +"No," he said, as though he were answering a sensible question, +"that never happened to me." + +"Then," I continued, "perhaps you have found a prince of the +church, pale as alabaster, sitting in his red robe, who put +together the indicatory evidence of the crime that baffled you +with such uncanny acumen that you stood aghast at his +perspicacity?" + +"No," he said; and then his face lighted. "But I'll tell you +what I did find. I found a drunken hobo at Atlantic City who was +the best detective I ever saw." + +I sat down and tapped the manuscript with my fingers. + +"It's not here," I said. "Why did you leave it out?" + +He took a big gold watch out of his pocket and turned it about in +his hand. The case was covered with an inscription. + +"Well, Sir Henry," he said, "the boys in the department think a +good deal of me. I shouldn't like them to know how a dirty tramp +faked me at Atlantic City. I don't mind telling you, but I +couldn't print it in a memoir." + +He went directly ahead with the story and I was careful not to +interrupt him: + +"I was sitting in a rolling chair out there on the Boardwalk +before the Traymore. I was nearly all in, and I had taken a run +to Atlantic for a day or two of the sea air. The fact is the +whole department was down and out. You may remember what we were +up against; it finally got into the newspapers. + +"The government plates of the Third Liberty Bond issue had +disappeared. We knew how they had gotten out, and we thought we +knew the man at the head of the thing. It was a Mulehaus job, as +we figured it. + +"It was too big a thing for a little crook. With the government +plates they could print Liberty Bonds just as the Treasury would. +And they could sow the world with them." + +He paused and moved his gold-rimmed spectacles a little closer in +on his nose. + +"You see these war bonds are scattered all over the country. +They are held by everybody. It's not what it used to be, a +banker's business that we could round up. Nobody could round up +the holders of these bonds. + +"A big crook like Mulehaus could slip a hundred million of them +into the country and never raise a ripple." + +He paused and drew his fingers across his bony protruding chin. + +"I'll say this for Mulehaus: He's the hardest man to identify in +the whole kingdom of crooks. Scotland Yard, the Service de la +Surete, everybody, says that. I don't mean dime-novel disguises +- false whiskers and a limp. I mean the ability to be the +character he pretends - the thing that used to make Joe +Jefferson, Rip Van Winkle - and not an actor made up to look like +him. That's the reason nobody could keep track of Mulehaus, +especially in South American cities. He was a French banker in +the Egypt business and a Swiss banker in the Argentine." + +He turned back from the digression: + +"And it was a clean job. They had got away with the plates. We +didn't have a clew. We thought, naturally, that they'd make for +Mexico or some South American country to start their printing +press. And we had the ports and border netted up. Nothing could +have gone out across the border or, through any port. All the +customs officers were, working with us, and every agent of the +Department of Justice." + +He looked at me steadily across the table. + +"You see the Government had to get those plates back before the +crook started to print, or else take up every bond of that issue +over the whole country. It was a hell of a thing! + +"Of course we had gone right after the record of all the big +crooks to see whose line this sort of job was. And the thing +narrowed down to Mulehaus or old Vronsky. We soon found out it +wasn't Vronsky. He was in Joliet. It was Mulehaus. But we +couldn't find him. + +"We didn't even know that Mulehaus was in America. He's a big +crook with a genius for selecting men. He might be directing the +job from Rio or a Mexican port. But we were sure it was a +Mulehaus' job. He sold the French securities in Egypt in '90; +and he's the man who put the bogus Argentine bonds on our market +- you'll find the case in the 115th Federal Reporter. + +"Well," he went on, "I was sitting out there in the rolling +chair, looking at the sun on the sea and thinking about the +thing, when I noticed this hobo that I've been talking about. He +was my chair attendant, but I hadn't looked at him before. He +had moved round from behind me and was now leaning against the +galvanized pipe railing. + +"He was a big human creature, a little stooped, unshaved and +dirty; his mouth was slack and loose, and he had a big mobile +nose that seemed to move about like a piece of soft rubber. He +had hardly any clothing; a cap that must have been fished out of +an ash barrel, no shirt whatever, merely an old ragged coat +buttoned round him, a pair of canvas breeches and carpet slippers +tied on to his feet with burlap, and wrapped round his ankles to +conceal the fact that he wore no socks. + +"As I looked at him he darted out, picked up the stump of a +cigarette that some one had thrown down, and came back to the +railing to smoke it, his loose mouth and his big soft nose moving +like kneaded putty. + +"Altogether this tramp was the worst human derelict I ever saw. +And it occurred to me that this was the one place in the whole of +America where any sort of a creature could get a kind of +employment and no questions asked. + +"Anything that could move and push a chair could get fifteen +cents an hour from McDuyal. Wise man, poor man, beggar man, +thief, it was all one to McDuyal. And the creatures could sleep +in the shed behind the rolling chairs. + +"I suppose an impulse to offer the man a garment of some sort +moved me to address him. + +"`You're nearly naked,' I said. + +"He crossed one leg over the other with the toe of the carpet +slipper touching the walk, in the manner of a burlesque actor, +took the cigarette out of his mouth with a little flourish, and +replied to me: + +"'Sure, Governor, I ain't dolled up like John Drew.' + +"There was a sort of cocky unconcern about the creature that gave +his miserable state a kind of beggarly distinction. He was in +among the very dregs of life, and he was not depressed about it. + +"'But if I had a sawbuck," he continued, "I could bulge your eye +. . . . Couldn't point the way to one?' + +"He arrested my answer with the little flourish of his fingers +holding the stump of the cigarette. + +"'Not work, Governor,' and he made a little duck of his head, +'and not murder . . . . Go as far as you please between 'em.' + +"The fantastic manner of the derelict was infectious. + +"`O. K.' I said. `Go out and find me a man who is a deserter +from the German Army, was a tanner in Bale and began life as a +sailor, and I'll double your money - I'll give you a +twenty-dollar bill.' + +"The creature whistled softly in two short staccato notes. + +"`Some little order,' he said. And taking a toothpick out of his +pocket he stuck it into the stump of the cigarette which had +become too short to hold between his fingers. + +"At this moment a boy from the post office came to me with the +daily report from Washington, and I got out of the chair, tipped +the creature, and went into the hotel, stopping to pay McDuyal as +I passed. + +"There was nothing new from the department except that our +organization over the country was in close touch. We had offered +five thousand dollars reward for the recovery of the plates, and +the Post Office Department was now posting the notice all over +America in every office. The Secretary thought we had better let +the public in on it and not keep it an underground offer to the +service. + +"I had forgotten the hobo, when about five o'clock he passed me a +little below the Steel Pier. He was in a big stride and he had +something clutched in his hand. + +"He called to me as he hurried along: `I got him, Governor. . . . +See you later!' + +"`See me now,' I said. `What's the hurry?' + +"He flashed his hand open, holding a silver dollar with his thumb +against the palm. + +"`Can't stop now, I'm going to get drunk. See you later.' + +"I smiled at this disingenuous creature. He was saving me for +the dry hour. He could point out Mulehaus in any passing chair, +and I would give some coin to be rid of his pretension." + +Walker paused. Then he went on: + +"I was right. The hobo was waiting for me when I came out of the +hotel the following morning. + +"`Howdy, Governor,' he said; `I located your man.' + +"I was interested to see how he would frame up his case. + +"`How did you find him?' I said. + +"He grinned, moving his lip and his loose nose. + +"`Some luck, Governor, and some sleuthin'. It was like this: I +thought you was stringin' me. But I said to myself I'll keep out +an eye; maybe it's on the level - any damn thing can happen.' + +"He put up his hand as though to hook his thumb into the armhole +of his vest, remembered that he had only a coat buttoned round +him and dropped it. + +"`And believe me or not, Governor, it's the God's truth. About +four o'clock up toward the Inlet I passed a big, well-dressed, +banker-looking gent walking stiff from the hip and throwing out +his leg. "Come eleven!" I said to myself. "It's the goosestep!" +I had an empty roller, and I took a turn over to him.' + +"`"Chair, Admiral?" I said. + +"`He looked at me sort of queer. + +"`"What makes you think I'm an admiral, my man?" he answers. + +"Well," I says, lounging over on one foot reflective like, +"nobody could be a-viewin' the sea with that lovin', ownership +look unless he'd bossed her a bit . . . . If I'm right, Admiral, +you takes the chair." + +"`He laughed, but he got in. "I'm not an admiral," he said, "but +it is true that I've followed the sea.'" + +"The hobo paused, and put up his first and second fingers spread +like a V. + +"`Two points, Governor - the gent had been a sailor and a +soldier; now how about the tanner business? + +"He scratched his head, moving his ridiculous cap. + +"`That sort of puzzled me, and I pussyfooted along toward the +Inlet thinkin' about it. If a man was a tanner, and especially a +foreign, hand-workin' tanner, what would his markin's be? + +"`I tried to remember everybody that I'd ever seen handlin' a +hide, and all at once I recollected that the first thing a dago +shoemaker done when he picked up a piece of leather was to smooth +it out with his thumbs. An' I said to myself, now that'll be +what a tanner does, only he does it more. . . . he's always doin' +it. Then I asks myself what would be the markin's?' + +"The hobo paused, his mouth open, his head twisted to one side. +Then he jerked up as under a released spring. + +"`And right away, Governor, I got the answer to it flat thumbs!' + +"The hobo stepped back with an air of victory and flashed his +hand up. + +"`And he had 'em! I asked him what time it was so I could keep +the hour straight for McDuyal, I told him, but the real reason +was so I could see his hands.'" + +Walker crossed one leg over the other. + +"It was clever," he said, "and I hesitated to shatter it. But +the question had to come. + +"`Where is your man?' I said. + +"The hobo executed a little deprecatory step, with his fingers +picking at his coat pockets. + +"`That's the trouble, Governor,' he answered; `I intended to +sleuth him for you, but he gave me a dollar and I got drunk . . . +you saw me. That man had got out at McDuyal's place not five +minutes before. I was flashin' to the booze can when you tried +to stop me . . . . Nothin' doin' when I get the price.'" + +Walker paused. + +"It was a good fairy story and worth something. I offered him +half a dollar. Then I got a surprise. + +"The creature looked eagerly at the coin in my fingers, and he +moved toward it. He was crazy for the liquor it would buy. But +he set his teeth and pulled up. + +"`No, Governor,' he said, `I'm in it for the sawbuck. Where'll I +find you about noon?' + +"I promised to be on the Boardwalk before Heinz's Pier at two +o'clock, and he turned to shuffle away. I called an inquiry +after him . . . You see there were two things in his story: How +did he get a dollar tip, and how did he happen to make his +imaginary man banker-looking? Mulehaus had been banker-looking +in both the Egypt and the Argentine affairs. I left the latter +point suspended, as we say. But I asked about the dollar. He +came back at once. + +"`I forgot about that, Governor,' he said. `It was like this: +The admiral kept looking out at the sea where an old freighter +was going South. You know, the fruit line from New York. One of +them goes by every day or two. And I kept pushing him along. +Finally we got up to the Inlet, and I was about to turn when he +stopped me. You know the neck of ground out beyond where the +street cars loop; there's an old board fence by the road, then +sand to the sea, and about halfway between the fence and the +water there's a shed with some junk in it. You've seen it. They +made the old America out there and the shed was a tool house. + +"`When I stopped the admiral says: "Cut across to the hole in +that old board fence and see if an automobile has been there, and +I'll give you a dollar." An' I done it, an' I got it.' + +"Then he shuffled off. + +"`Be on the spot, Governor, an' I'll lead him to you.'" + +Walker leaned over, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, +and linked his fingers together. + +"That gave me a new flash on the creature. He was a slicker +article than I imagined. I was not to get off with a tip. He +was taking some pains to touch me for a greenback. I thought I +saw his line. It would not account for his hitting the +description of Mulehaus in the make-up of his straw-man, but it +would furnish the data for the dollar story. I had drawn the +latter a little before he was ready. It belonged in what he +planned to give me at two o'clock. But I thought I saw what the +creature was about. And I was right." + +Walker put out his hand and moved the pages of his memoir on the +table. Then he went on: + +"I was smoking a cigar on a bench at the entrance to Heinz's Pier +when the hobo shuffled up. He came down one of the streets from +Pacific Avenue, and the direction confirmed me in my theory. It +also confirmed me in the opinion that I was all kinds of a fool +to let this dirty hobo get a further chance at me. + +"I was not in a very good humor. Everything I had set going +after Mulehaus was marking time. The only report was progress in +linking things up; not only along the Canadian and Mexican +borders and the customhouses, but we had also done a further +unusual thing, we had an agent on every ship going out of America +to follow through to the foreign port and look out for anything +picked up on the way. + +"It was a plan I had set at immediately the robbery was +discovered. It would cut out the trick of reshipping at sea from +some fishing craft or small boat. The reports were encouraging +enough in that respect. We had the whole country as tight as a +drum. But it was slender comfort when the Treasury was raising +the devil for the plates and we hadn't a clew to them." + +Walker stopped a moment. Then he went on: + +"I felt like kicking the hobo when he got to me, he was so +obviously the extreme of all worthless creatures, with that +apologetic, confidential manner which seems to be an abominable +attendant on human degeneracy. One may put up with it for a +little while, but it presently becomes intolerable. + +"`Governor,' he began, when he'd shuffled up, `you won't git mad +if I say a little somethin'? + +"`Go on and say it,' I said. + +"The expression on his dirty unshaved face became, if possible, +more foolish. + +"`Well, then, Governor, askin' your pardon, you ain't Mr. Henry +P. Johnson, from Erie; you're the Chief of the United States +Secret Service, from Washington.'" + +Walker moved in his chair. + +"That made me ugly," he went on, "the assurance of the creature +and my unspeakable carelessness in permitting the official +letters brought to me on the day before by the post-office +messenger to be seen. In my relaxation I had forgotten the eye +of the chair attendant. I took the cigar out of my teeth and +looked at him. + +"`And I'll say a little something myself!' I could hardly keep +my foot clear of him. `When you got sober this morning and +remembered who I was, you took a turn up round the post office to +make sure of it, and while you were in there you saw the notice +of the reward for the stolen bond plates. That gave you the +notion with which you pieced out your fairy story about how you +got the dollar tip. Having discovered my identity through a +piece of damned carelessness on my part, and having seen the +postal notice of the reward, you undertook to enlarge your little +game. That's the reason you wouldn't take fifty cents. It was +your notion in the beginning to make a touch for a tip. And it +would have worked. But now you can't get a damned cent out of +me.' Then I threw a little brush into him: `I'd have stood a +touch for your finding the fake tanner, because there isn't any +such person.' + +"I intended to put the hobo out of business," Walker went on, +"but the effect of my words on him were even more startling than +I anticipated. His jaw dropped and he looked at me in +astonishment. + +"`No such person!' he repeated. `Why, Governor, before God, I +found a man like that, an' he was a banker - one of the big ones, +sure as there's a hell!'" + +Walker put out his hands in a puzzled gesture. + +"There it was again, the description of Mulehaus! And it puzzled +me. Every motion of this hobo's mind in every direction about +this affair was perfectly clear to me. I saw his intention in +every turn of it and just where he got the material for the +details of his story. But this absolutely distinguishing +description of Mulehaus was beyond me. Everybody, of course, +knew that we were looking for the lost plates, for there was the +reward offered by the Treasury; but no human soul outside of the +trusted agents of the department knew that we were looking for +Mulehaus." + +Walker did not move, but he stopped in his recital for a moment. + +"The tramp shuffled up a step closer to the bench where I sat. +The anxiety in his big slack face was sincere beyond question. + +"`I can't find the banker man, Governor; he's skipped the coop. +But I believe I can find what he's hid.' + +"`Well,' I said, `go and find it.' + +"The hobo jerked out his limp hands in a sort of hopeless +gesture. + +"`Now, Governor,' he whimpered, `what good would it do me to find +them plates?' + +"`You'd get five thousand dollars,' I said. + +"`I'd git kicked into the discard by the first cop that got to +me,' he answered, `that's what I'd git.' + +"The creature's dirty, unshaved jowls began to shake, and his +voice became wholly a whimper. + +"`I've got a line on this thing, Governor, sure as there's a +hell. That banker man was viewin' the layout. I've thought it +all over, an' this is the way it would be. They're afraid of the +border an' they're afraid of the customhouses, so they runs the +loot down here in an automobile, hides it up about the Inlet, and +plans to go out with it to one of them fruit steamers passing on +the way to Tampico. They'd have them plates bundled up in a +sailor's chest most like. + +"`Now, Governor, you'd say why ain't they already done it? An' +I'd answer, the main guy - this banker man - didn't know the +automobile had got here until he sent me to look, and there ain't +been no ship along since then . . . . I've been special careful +to find that out.' And then the creature began to whine. `Have +a heart, Governor, come along with me. Gimme a show!' + +"It was not the creature's plea that moved me, nor his pretended +deductions; I'm a bit old to be soft. It was the `banker man' +sticking like a bur in the hobo's talk. I wanted to keep him in +sight until I understood where he got it. No doubt that seems a +slight reason for going out to the Inlet with the creature; but +you must remember that slight things are often big signboards in +our business." + +He continued, his voice precise and even + +"We went directly from the end of the Boardwalk to the old shed; +it was open, an unfastened door on a pair of leather hinges. The +shed is small, about twenty feet by eleven, with a hard dirt +floor packed down by the workmen who had used it; a combination +of clay and sand like the Jersey roads put in to make a floor. +All round it, from the sea to the board fence, was soft sand. +There were some pieces of old junk lying about in the shed; but +nothing of value or it would have been nailed up. + +"The hobo led right off with his deductions. There, was the +track of a man, clearly outlined in the soft sand, leading from +the board fence to the shed and returning, and no other track +anywhere about. + +"`Now, Governor,' he began, when he had taken a look at the +tracks, `the man that made them tracks carried something into +this shed, and he left it here, and it was something heavy.' + +"I was fairly certain that the hobo had salted the place for me, +made the tracks himself; but I played out a line to him. + +"`How do you know that?' I said. + +"`Well, Governor,' he answered, `take a look at them two lines of +tracks. In the one comin' to the shed the man was walkin' with +his feet apart and in the one goin' back he was walkin' with his +feet in front of one another; that's because he was carryin' +somethin' heavy when he come an' nothin' when he left.' + +"It was an observation on footprints," he went on, "that had +never occurred to me. The hobo saw my awakened interest, and he +added: + +"`Did you never notice a man carryin' a heavy load? He kind of +totters, walkin' with his feet apart to keep his balance. That +makes his foot tracks side by side like, instead of one before +the other as he makes them when he's goin' light."' + +Walker interrupted his narrative with a comment: + +"It's the truth. I've verified it a thousand times since that +hobo put me onto it. A line running through the center of the +heel prints of a man carrying a heavy burden will be a zigzag, +while one through the heel prints of the same man without the +burden will be almost straight. + +"The tramp went right on with his deductions: + +"`If it come in and didn't go out, it's here.' + +"And he began to go over the inside of the shed. He searched it +like a man searching a box for a jewel. He moved the pieces of +old castings and he literally fingered the shed from end to end. +He would have found a bird's egg. + +"Finally he stopped and stood with his hand spread out over his +mouth. And I selected this critical moment to touch the powder +off under his game. + +"`Suppose,' I said, `that this man with the heavy load wished to +mislead us; suppose that instead of bringing something here he +took one of these old castings away?' + +"The hobo looked at me without changing his position. + +"`How could he, Governor; he was pointin' this way with the +load?' + +"`By walking backward,' I said. For it occurred to me that +perhaps the creature had manufactured this evidence for the +occasion, and I wished to test the theory." + +Walker went on in his slow, even voice: + +"The test produced more action than I expected. + +"The hobo dived out through the door. I followed to see him +disappear. But it was not in flight; he was squatting down over +the footprints. And a moment later he rocked back on his +haunches with a little exultant yelp. + +"`Dope's wrong, Governor,' he said; `he was sure comin' this +way.' Then he explained: `If a man's walkin' forward in sand or +mud or snow the toe of his shoe flirts out a little of it, an' if +he's walkin' backward his heel flirts it out.' + +"At this point I began to have some respect for the creature's +ability. He got up and came back into the shed. And there he +stood, in his old position, with his fingers over his mouth, +looking round at the empty shed, in which, as I have said, one +could not have concealed a bird's egg. + +"I watched him without offering any suggestion, for my interest +in the thing had awakened and I was curious to see what he would +do. He stood perfectly motionless for about a minute; and then +suddenly he snapped his fingers and the light came into his face. + +"`I got it, Governor!' Then he came over to where I stood. +`Gimme a quarter to git a bucket.' + +"I gave him the coin, for I was now profoundly puzzled, and he +went out. He was gone perhaps twenty minutes, and when he came +in he had a bucket of water. But he had evidently been thinking +on the way, for he set the bucket down carefully, wiped his hands +on his canvas breeches, and began to speak, with a little +apologetic whimper in his voice. + +"`Now look here, Governor,' he said, `I'm a-goin' to talk turkey; +do I git the five thousand if I find this stuff ?' + +"`Surely,' I answered him. + +"`An' there'll be no monkeyin', Governor; you'll take me down to +a bank yourself an' put the money in my hand?' + +"`I promise you that,' I assured him. + +"But he was not entirely quiet in his mind about it. He shifted +uneasily from one foot to the other, and his soft rubber nose +worked. + +"`Now, Governor,' he said, `I'm leery about jokers - I gotta be. +I don't want any string to this money. If I git it I want to go +and blow it in. I don't want you to hand me a roll an' then +start any reformin' stunt - a-holdin' of it in trust an' a +probation officer a-pussyfootin' me, or any funny business. I +want the wad an' a clear road to the bright lights, with no word +passed along to pinch me. Do I git it?' + +"`It's a trade!' I said. + +"`O. K.,' he answered, and he took up the bucket. He began at +the door and poured the water carefully on the hard tramped +earth. When the bucket was empty he brought another and another. +Finally about midway of the floor space he stopped. + +"`Here it is!' he said. + +"I was following beside him, but I saw nothing to justify his +words. + +"`Why do you think the plates are buried here?' I said. + +"`Look at the air bubbles comin' up, Governor,' he answered." + +Walker stopped, then he added: + +"It's a thing which I did not know until that moment, but it's +the truth. If hard-packed earth is dug up and repacked air gets +into it, and if one pours water on the place air bubbles will +come up." + +He did not go on, and I flung at him the big query in his story. + +"And you found the plates there?" + +"Yes, Sir Henry," he replied, "in the false bottom of an old +steamer trunk." + +"And the hobo got the money?" + +"Certainly," he answered. "I put it into his hand, and let him +go with it, as I promised." + +Again he was silent, and I turned toward him in astonishment. + +"Then," I said, "why did you begin this story by saying the hobo +faked you? I don't see the fake; he found the plates and he was +entitled to the reward." + +Walker put his hand into his pocket, took out a leather case, +selected a paper from among its contents and handed it to me. +"I didn't see the fake either," he said, "until I got this +letter." + +I unfolded the letter carefully. It was neatly written in a hand +like copper plate and dated Buenos Aires. + +DEAR COLONEL WALKER: When I discovered that you were planting an +agent on every ship I had to abandon the plates and try for the +reward. Thank you for the five thousand; it covered expenses. + + Very sincerely yours, + + D. Mulehaus. + + + + +III. The Lost Lady + + +It was a remark of old Major Carrington that incited this +adventure. + +"It is some distance through the wood - is she quite safe?" + +It was a mere reflection as he went out. It was very late. I do +not know how the dinner, or rather the after-hours of it, had +lengthened. It must have been the incomparable charm of the +woman. She had come, this night, luminously, it seemed to us, +through the haze that had been on her - the smoke haze of a +strange, blighting fortune. The three of us had been carried +along in it with no sense of time; my sister, the ancient Major +Carrington and I. + +He turned back in the road, his decayed voice whipped by the +stimulus of her into a higher note. + +"Suppose the village coachman should think her as lovely as we do +- what!" + +He laughed and turned heavily up the road a hundred yards or so +to his cottage set in the pine wood. I stood in the road +watching the wheels of the absurd village vehicle, the yellow +cut-under, disappear. The old Major called back to me; his voice +seemed detached, eerie with the thin laugh in it. + +"I thought him a particularly villainous-looking creature!" + +It was an absurd remark. The man was one of the natives of the +island, and besides, the innkeeper was a person of sound sense; +he would know precisely about his driver. + +I should not have gone on this adventure but for a further +incident. + +When I entered the house my sister was going up the stair, the +butler was beyond in the drawing-room, and there was no other +servant visible. She was on the first step and the elevation +gave precisely the height that my sister ought to have received +in the accident of birth. She would have been wonderful with +those four inches added - lacking beauty, she had every other +grace! + +She spoke to me as I approached. + +"Winthrop," she said, "what was in the package that Madame Barras +carried away with her tonight?" + +The query very greatly surprised me. I thought Madame Barras had +carried this package away with her several evenings before when I +had put her English bank-notes in my box at the local bank. My +sister added the explanation which I should have been embarrassed +to seek, at the moment. + +"She asked me to put it somewhere, on Tuesday afternoon . . . . +It was forgotten, I suppose . . . . I laid it in a drawer of the +library table . . . . What did it contain?" + +I managed an evasive reply, for the discovery opened +possibilities that disturbed me. + +"Some certificates, I believe," I said. + +My sister made a little pretended gesture of dismay. + +"I should have been more careful; such things are of value." + +Of value indeed! The certificates in Madame Barras' package, +that had lain about on the library table, were gold certificates +of the United States Treasury - ninety odd of them, each of a +value of one thousand dollars! My sister went: + +"How oddly life has tossed her about . . . . She must have been +a mere infant at Miss Page's. The attachment of incoming tots to +the older girls was a custom . . . . I do not recall her . . . . +There was always a string of mites with shiny pigtails and +big-eyed wistful faces. The older girls never thought very much +about them. One has a swarm-memory, but individuals escape one. +The older girl, in these schools, fancied herself immensely. The +little satellite that attached itself, with its adoration, had no +identity. It had a nickname, I think, or a number . . . . I have +forgotten. We minimized these midges out of everything that +could distinguish them . . . . Fancy one of these turning up in +Madame Barras and coming to me on the memory of it." + +"It was extremely lucky for her," I said. "Imagine arriving from +the interior of Brazil on the invitation of Mrs. Jordan to find +that lady dead and buried; with no friend, until, by chance, one +happened on your name in the social register, and ventured on a +school attachment of which there might remain, perhaps a memory +only on the infant's side." + +My sister went on up the stair. + +"I am glad we happened to be here, and, especially, Winthrop, if +you have been able to assist her . . . . She is charming." + +Charming was the word descriptive of my sister, for it is a thing +of manner from a nature elevated and noble, but it was not the +word for Madame Barras. The woman was a lure. I mean the term +in its large and catholic sense. I mean the bait of a great +cosmic impulse - the most subtle and the most persistent of which +one has any sense. + +The cunning intelligences of that impulse had decked her out with +every attractiveness as though they had taken thought to confound +all masculine resistance; to sweep into their service those +refractory units that withheld themselves from the common +purpose. She was lovely, as the aged Major Carrington had +uttered it - great violet eyes in a delicate skin sown with gold +flecks, a skin so delicate that one felt that a kiss would tear +it! + +I do not know from what source I have that expression but it +attaches itself, out of my memory of descriptive phrases, to +Madame Barras. And it extends itself as wholly descriptive of +her. You will say that the long and short of this is that I was +in love with Madame Barras, but I point you a witness in Major +Carrington. + +He had the same impressions, and he had but one passion in his +life, a distant worship of my sister that burned steadily even +here at the end of life. During the few evenings that Madame +Barras had been in to dinner with us, he sat in his chair beyond +my sister in the drawing-room, perfect in his early-Victorian +manner, while Madame Barras and I walked on the great terrace, or +sat outside. + +One had a magnificent sweep of the world, at night, from that +terrace. It looked out over the forest of pines to the open sea. + +Madame Barras confessed to the pull of this vista. She asked me +at what direction the Atlantic entered, and when she knew, she +kept it always in her sight. + +It had a persisting fascination for her. At all times and in +nearly any position, she was somehow sensible of this vista; she +knew the lights almost immediately, and the common small craft +blinking about. To-night she had sat for a long time in nearly +utter silence here. There was a faint light on the open sea as +she got up to take her leave of us; what would it be she +wondered. + +I replied that it was some small craft coming in. + +"A fishing-boat?" + +"Hardly that," I said, "from its lights and position it will be +some swifter power-boat and, I should say, not precisely certain +about the channel." + +I have been drawn here into reminiscence that did not, at the +time, detain me in the hall. What my sister had discovered to +me, following Major Carrington's remark, left me distinctly +uneasy. It was very nearly two miles to the village, the road +was wholly forest and there would be no house on the way; for my +father, with an utter disregard for cost, had sought the +seclusion of a large acreage when he had built this absurdly +elaborate villa on Mount Desert Island. + +Besides I was in no mood for sleep. + +And, over all probability, there might be some not entirely +imaginary danger to Madame Barras. Not precisely the danger +presented in Major Carrington's pleasantry, but the always +possible danger to one who is carrying a sum of money about. It +would be considered, in the world of criminal activities, a very +large sum of money; and it had been lying here, as of no value, +in a drawer of the library table since the day on which the gold +certificates had arrived on my check from the Boston bank. + +Madame Barras had not taken the currency away as I imagined. It +was extremely careless of her, but was it not an act in +character? + +What would such a woman know of practical concern? + +I spoke to the butler. He should not wait up, I would let myself +in; and I went out. + +I remember that I got a cap and a stick out of the rack; there +was no element of selection in the cap, but there was a decided +subconscious direction about the selection of the stick. It was +a heavy blackthorn, with an iron ferrule and a silver weight set +in the head; picked up - by my father at some Irish fair - a +weapon in fact. + +It was not dark. It was one of those clear hard nights that are +not uncommon on this island in midsummer; with a full moon, the +road was visible even in the wood. I swung along it with no +particular precaution; I was not expecting anything to happen, +and in fact, nothing did happen on the way into the village. + +But in this attitude of confidence I failed to discover an event +of this night that might have given the whole adventure a +different ending. + +There is a point near the village where a road enters our private +one; skirts the border of the mountain, and, making a great turn, +enters the village from the south. At this division of the road +I heard distinctly a sound in the wood. + +It was not a sound to incite inquiry. It was the sound of some +considerable animal moving in the leaves, a few steps beyond the +road. It did not impress me at the time; estrays were constantly +at large in our forests in summer, and not infrequently a roaming +buck from the near preserves. There was also here in addition to +the other roads, an abandoned winter wood-road that ran westward +across the island to a small farming settlement. Doubtless +I took a slighter notice of the sound because estrays from the +farmers' fields usually trespassed on us from this road. + +At any rate I went on. I fear that I was very much engrossed +with the memory of Madame Barras. Not wholly with the feminine +lure of her, although as I have written she was the perfection of +that lure. One passed women, at all milestones, on the way to +age, and kept before them one's sound estimates of life, but +before this woman one lost one's head, as though Nature, evaded +heretofore, would not be denied. But the weird fortune that had +attended her was in my mind. + +Married to Senor Barras out of the door of a convent, carried to +Rio de Janeiro to an unbearable life, escaping with a remnant of +her inheritance in English bank-notes, she arrives here to visit +the one, old, persisting friend, Mrs. Jordan, and finds her dead! +And what seemed strange, incredible beyond belief, was that this +creature Barras had thought only of her fortune which he had +depleted in two years to the something less than twenty thousand +pounds which I had exchanged for her into our money; a mere +fragment of her great inheritance. + +I had listened to the story entranced with the alluring teller of +it; wondering as I now wondered, on the road to the village, how +anything pretending to be man could think of money when she was +before his eye. + +What could he buy with money that equaled her! And yet this +curious jackal had seen in her only the key to a strong-box. +There was behind it, in explanation, shadowed out, the glamor of +an empire that Senor Barras would set up with the millions in his +country of revolutions, and the enthusiasms of a foolish mother. + +And yet the jackal and this wreckage had not touched her. There +was no stain, no crumpled leaf. She was a fresh wonder, even +after this, out of a chrysalis. It was this amazing newness, +this virginity of blossom from which one could not escape. + +The word in my reflection brought me up. How had she escaped +from Barras? + +I had more than once in my reflections pivoted on the word. + +The great hotel was very nearly deserted when I entered. + +There was the glow of a cigar where some one smoked, at the end +of the long porch. Within, there was only a sleepy clerk. + +Madame Barras had not arrived . . . he was quite sure; she had +gone out to dinner somewhere and had not come in! + +I was profoundly concerned. But I took a moment to reflect +before deciding what to do. + +I stepped outside and there, coming up from the shadow of the +porch, I met Sir Henry Marquis. + +It was chance at its extreme of favor. If I had been given the +selection, in all the world, I should have asked for Sir Henry +Marquis at that decisive moment. + +The relief I felt made my words extravagant. + +"Marquis!" I cried. "You here!" + +"Ah, Winthrop," he said, in his drawling Oxford voice, "what have +you done with Madame Barras; I was waiting for her?" + +I told him, in a word, how she had set out from my house - my +concern - the walk down here and this result. I did not ask him +at the moment how he happened to be here, or with a knowledge of +our guest. I thought that Marquis was in Canada. But one does +not, with success, inquire of a C.I.D. official even in his own +country. One met him in the most unexpected places, unconcerned, +and one would have said at leisure. + +But he was concerned to-night. What I told brought him up. He +stood for a moment silent. Then he said, softly, in order drat +the clerk behind us might not overhear. + +"Don't speak of it. I will get a light and go with you!" + +He returned in a moment and we went out. He asked me about the +road, was there only one way down; and I told him precisely. +There was only the one road into the village and no way to miss +it unless one turned into the public road at the point where it +entered our private one along the mountain. + +He pitched at once upon this point and we hurried back. + +We had hardly a further word on the way. I was decidedly uneasy +about Madame Barras by now, and Marquis' concern was hardly less +evident. He raced along in his immense stride, and I had all I +could manage to keep up. + +It may seem strange that I should have brought such a man as Sir +Henry Marquis into the search of this adventure with so little +explanation of my guest or the affair. But, one must remember, +Marquis was an old acquaintance frequently seen about in the +world. To thus, on the spot so to speak, draft into my service +the first gentleman I found, was precisely what any one would +have done. It was probable, after all, that there had been some +reason why the cut-under had taken the other road, and Madame +Barras was quite all right. + +It was better to make sure before one raised the village - and +Marquis, markedly, was beyond any aid the village could have +furnished. This course was strikingly justified by every +after-event. + +I have said that the night was not dark. The sky was hard with +stars, like a mosaic. This white moonlight entered through the +tree-tops and in a measure illumined the road. We were easily +able to see, when we reached the point, that the cut-under had +turned out into the road circling the mountain to the west of the +village. The track was so clearly visible in the light, that I +must have observed it had I been thinking of the road instead of +the one who had set out upon it. + +I was going on quickly, when Marquis stopped. He was stooping +over the track of the vehicle. He did not come on and I went +back. + +"What is it?" I said. + +He answered, still stooping above the track. + +"The cut-under stopped here." + +"How do you know that?" I asked, for it seemed hardly possible to +determine where a wheeled vehicle had stopped. + +"It's quite clear," he replied. "The horse has moved about +without going on." + +I now saw it. The hoof-marks of the horse had displaced the dust +where it had several times changed position. + +"And that's not all," Marquis continued. "Something has happened +to the cut-under here!" + +I was now closely beside him. + +"It was broken down, perhaps, or some accident to the harness?" + +"No," he replied. "The wheel tracks are here broadened, as +though they had skidded on a turn. This would mean little if the +cut-under had been moving at the time. But it was not moving; +the horse was standing. The cut-under had stopped." + +He went on as though in a reflection to himself. + +"The vehicle must have been violently thrown about here, by +something." + +I had a sudden inspiration. + +"I see it!" I cried. "The horse took fright, stopped, and then +bolted; there has been a run-away. That accounts for the turn +out. Let's hurry!" + +But Marquis detained me with a firm hand on my arm. + +"No," he said, "the horse was not running when it turned out and +it did not stop here in fright. The horse was entirely quiet +here. The hoof marks would show any alarm in the animal, and, +moreover, if it had stopped in fright there would have been an +inevitable recoil which would have thrown the wheels of the +vehicle backward out of their track. No moving animal, man +included, stopped by fright fails to register this recoil. We +always look for it in evidences of violent assault. Footprints +invariably show it, and one learns thereby, unerringly, the +direction of the attack." + +He rose, his hand still extended and upon my arm. + +"There is only one possible explanation," he added. "Something +happened in the cut-under to throw it violently about in the +road, and it happened with the horse undisturbed and the vehicle +standing still. The wheel tracks are widened only at one point, +showing a transverse but no lateral movement of the vehicle." + +"A struggle?" I cried. "Major Carrington was right, Madame +Barras has been attacked by the driver!" + +Marquis' hand held me firmly in the excitement of that +realization. He was entirely composed. There was even a drawl +in his voice as he answered me. + +"Major Carrington, whoever he may be," he said, "is wrong; if we +exclude a third party, it was Madame Barras who attacked the +driver." + +His fingers tightened under my obvious protest. + +"It is quite certain," he continued. "Taking the position of the +standing horse, it will be the front wheels of the cut-under that +have made, this widened track; the wheels under the driver's +seat, and not the wheels under the guest seat, in the rear of the +vehicle. There has been a violent struggle in this cut-under, +but it was a struggle that took place wholly in the front of the +vehicle." + +He went on in his maddeningly imperturbable calm. + +"No one attacked our guest, but some one, here at this precise +point, did attack the driver of this vehicle." + +"For God's sake," I cried, "let's hurry!" + +He stepped back slowly to the edge of the road and the drawl in +his voice lengthened. + +"We do hurry," he said. "We hurry to the value of knowing that +there was no accident here to the harness, no fright to the +horse, no attack on the lady, and no change in the direction +which the vehicle afterwards took. Suppose we had gone on, in a +different form of hurry, ignorant of these facts?" + +At this point I distinctly heard again the sound of a heavy +animal in the wood. Marquis also heard it and he plunged into +the thick bushes. Almost immediately we were at the spot, and +before us some heavy object turned in the leaves. + +Marquis whipped an electric-flash out of his pocket. The body of +a man, tied at the hands and heels behind with a hitching-strap, +and with a linen carriage lap-cloth wound around his head and +knotted, lay there endeavoring to ease the rigor of his position +by some movement. + +We should now know, in a moment, what desperate thing had +happened! + +I cut the strap, while Marquis got the lap-cloth unwound from +about the man's head. It was the driver of the cut-under. But +we got no gain from his discovery. As soon as his face was +clear, he tore out of our grasp and began to run. + +He took the old road to the westward of the island, where perhaps +he lived. We were wholly unable to stop him, and we got no reply +to our shouted queries except his wild cry for help. He +considered us his assailants from whom, by chance, he had +escaped. It was folly to think of coming up with the man. He +was set desperately for the westward of the island, and he would +never stop until he reached it. + +We turned back into the road: + +Marquis' method now changed. He turned swiftly into the road +along the mountain which the cut-under had taken after its +capture. + +I was at the extreme of a deadly anxiety about Madame Barras. + +It seemed to me, now, certain that some gang of criminals having +knowledge of the packet of money had waylaid the cut-under. +Proud of my conclusion, I put the inquiry to Sir Henry as we +hurried along. If we weren't too late! + +He stopped suddenly like a man brought up at the point of a +bayonet. + +"My word!" He jerked the expression out through his tightened +jaws. "Has she got ninety thousand dollars of your money!" And +he set out again in his long stride. I explained briefly as I +endeavored to keep his pace. It was her own money, not mine, but +she did in fact have that large sum with her in the cut-under on +this night. I gave him the story of the matter, briefly, for I +had no breath to spare over it. And I asked him what he thought. +Had a gang of thieves attacked the cut-under? + +But he only repeated his expression. + +"My word! . . . You got her ninety thousand dollars and let her +drive away with no eye on her! . . . . Such trust in the honesty +of our fellow creatures! . . . My word!" + +I had to admit the deplorable negligence, but I had not thought +of any peril, and I did not know that she carried the money with +her until the conversation with my sister. There was some excuse +for me. I could not remember a robbery on this island. + +Marquis snapped his jaws. + +"You'll remember this one!" he said. + +It was a ridiculous remark. How could one ever forget if this +incomparable creature were robbed and perhaps murdered. But were +there not some extenuating circumstances in my favor. I +presented them as we advanced; my sister and I lived in a rather +protected atmosphere apart from all criminal activities, we could +not foresee such a result. I had no knowledge of criminal +methods. + +"I can well believe it," was the only reply Marquis returned to +me. + +In addition to my extreme anxiety about Madame Barras I began now +to realize a profound sense of responsibility; every one, it +seemed, saw what I ought to have done, except myself. How had I +managed to overlook it? It was clear to other men. Major +Carrington had pointed it out to me as I was turning away; and +now here Sir Henry Marquis was expressing in no uncertain words +how negligent a creature he considered me - to permit my guest, a +woman, to go alone, at night, with this large sum of money. + +It was not a pleasant retrospect. Other men - the world - would +scarcely hold me to a lesser negligence than Sir Henry Marquis! + +I could not forbear, even in our haste, to seek some consolation. + +"Do you think Madame Barras has been hurt?" + +"Hurt!" he repeated. "How should Madame Barras be hurt?" + +"In the robbery," I said. + +"Robbery!" and he repeated that word. "There has been no +robbery!" + +I replied in some astonishment. + +"Really, Sir Henry! You but now assured me that I would remember +this night's robbery." + +The drawl got back into his voice. + +"Ah, yes," he said, "quite so. You will remember it." + +The man was clearly, it seemed to me, so engrossed with the +mystery that it was idle to interrogate him. And he was walking +with a devil's stride. + +Still the pointed query of the affair pressed me, and I made +another effort. + +"Why did these assailants take Madame Barras on with them?" + +Marquis regarded me, I thought, with wonder. + +"The devil, man!" he said. "They couldn't leave her behind." + +"The danger would be too great to them?" + +"No," he said, "the danger would be too great to her." + +At this moment an object before us in the road diverted our +attention. It was the cut-under and the horse. They were +standing by the roadside where it makes a great turn to enter the +village from the south. There is a wide border to the road at +this point, clear of underbrush, where the forest edges it, and +there are here, at the whim of some one, or by chance, two great +flat stones, one lying upon the other, but not fitting by a +hand's thickness by reason of the uneven surfaces. + +What had now happened was evident. The assailants of the +cut-under had abandoned it here before entering the village. +They could not, of course, go on with this incriminating vehicle. + +The sight of the cut-under here had on Marquis the usual effect +of any important evidential sign. He at once ceased to hurry. +He pulled up; looked over the cut-under and the horse, and began +to saunter about. + +This careless manner was difficult for me at such a time. But +for his assurance that Madame Barras, was uninjured it would have +been impossible. I had a blind confidence in the man although +his expressions were so absurdly in conflict. + +I started to go on toward the village, but as he did not follow I +turned back. Marquis was sitting on the flat stones with a +cigarette in his fingers: + +"Good heavens, man," I cried, "you're not stopping to smoke a +cigarette?" + +"Not this cigarette, at any rate," he replied. "Madame Barras +has already smoked it. . . . I can, perhaps, find you the burnt +match." + +He got the electric-flash out of his pocket, and stooped over. +Immediately he made an exclamation of surprise. + +I leaned down beside him. + +There was a little heap of charred paper on the brown bed of +pine-needles. Marquis was about to take up this charred paper +when his eye caught something thrust in between the two stones. +It was a handful of torn bits of paper. + +Marquis got them out and laid them on the top of the flat stones +under his light. + +"Ah," he said, "Madame Barras, while she smoked, got rid of some +money." + +"The package of gold certificates!" I cried. "She has burned +them?" + +"No," he replied, "Madame Barras has favored your Treasury in her +destructive process. These are five-pound notes, of the Bank of +England." + +I was astonished and I expressed it. + +"But why should Madame Barras destroy notes of the Bank of +England?" + +"I imagine," he answered, "that they were some which she had, by +chance, failed to give you for exchange." + +"But why should she destroy them?" I went on. + +"I conclude," he drawled, "that she was not wholly certain that +she would escape." + +"Escape!" I cried. "You have been assuring me all along that +Madame Barras is making no effort to escape." + +"Oh, no," he replied, "she is making every effort." + +I was annoyed and puzzled. + +"What is it," I said, "precisely, that Madame Barras did here; +can you tell me in plain words?" + +"Surely," he replied, "she sat here while something was decided, +and while she sat here she smoked the cigarette, and while she +smoked the cigarette, she destroyed the money. But," he added, +"before she had quite finished, a decision was made and she +hastily thrust the remaining bits of the torn notes into the +crevice between these stones." + +"What decision?" I said. + +Marquis gathered up the bits of torn paper and put them into his +pocket with the switched-off flash. + +"I wish I knew that," he said. + +"Knew what?" + +"Which path they have taken," he replied; "there seem to be two +branching from this point, but they pass over a bed of +pine-needles and that retains no impression . . . . Where do +these paths lead?" + +I did not know that any paths came into the road at this point. +But the island is veined over with old paths. The lead of paths +here, however, was fairly evident. + +"They must come out somewhere on the sea," I said. + +"Right," he cried. "Take either, and let's be off. . . Madame's +cigarette was not quite cold when I picked it up." + +I was right about the direction of the paths but, as it happened, +the one Marquis took was nearly double the distance of the other +to the sea; and I have wondered always, if it was chance that +selected the one taken by the assailants of the cut-under as it +was chance that selected the one taken by us. + +Marquis was instantly gone, and I hurried along the path, running +nearly due east. There was light enough entering from the +brilliant moon through the tree-tops to make out the abandoned +trail. + +And as I hurried, Marquis' contradicting expressions seemed to +adjust themselves into a sort of order, and all at once I +understood what had happened. The Brazilian adventurer had not +taken the loss of his wife and the fortune in English pounds +sterling, lying down. He had followed to recover them. + +I now saw clearly the reason for everything that had happened: +the attack on the driver, and my guest's concern to get rid of +the English money which she discovered remaining in her +possession; this man would have no knowledge of her gold +certificates but he would be searching for his English pounds. +And if she came clear of any trace of these five-pound notes, she +might disclaim all knowledge of them and perhaps send him +elsewhere on his search, since it was always the money and not +the woman that he sought. + +This explanation was hardly realized before it was confirmed. + +I came out abruptly onto a slope of bracken, and before me at a +few paces on the path were Madame Barras and two men; one at some +distance in advance of her, disappearing at the moment behind a +spur of the slope that hid us from the sea, and I got no +conception of him; but the creature at her heels was a huge +foreign beast of a man, in the dress of a common sailor. + +What happened was over in a moment. + +I was nearly on the man when I turned out of the wood, and with a +shout to Madame Barras I struck at him with the heavy +walking-stick. But the creature was not to be taken unaware; he +darted to one side, wrenched the stick out of my hand, and dashed +its heavy-weighted head into my face. I went down in the +bracken, but I carried with me into unconsciousness a vision of +Madame Barras that no shadow of the lengthening years can blur. + +She had swung round sharply at the attack behind her, and she +stood bare-haired and bare-shouldered, knee-deep in the golden +bracken, with the glory of the moon on her; her arms hanging, her +lips parted, her great eyes wide with terror - as lovely in her +desperate extremity as a dream, as, a painted picture. I don't +know how long I was down there, but when I finally got up, and, +following along the path behind the spur of rock, came out onto +the open sea, I found Sir Henry Marquis. He was standing with +his hands in the pockets of his loose tweed coat, and he was +cursing softly: + +"The ferry and the mainland are patroled . . . I didn't think of +their having an ocean-going yacht . . . ." + +A gleam of light was disappearing into the open sea. + +He put his hand into his pocket and took out the scraps of torn +paper. + +"These notes," he said, "like the ones which you hold in your +bank-vault, were never issued by the Bank of England." + +I stammered some incoherent sentence; and the great chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard turned toward +me. + +"Do you know who that woman is?" + +"Surely," I cried, "she went to school with my sister at Miss +Page's; she came to visit Mrs. Jordan. . . ." + +He looked at me steadily. + +"She got the data about your sister out of the Back Bay +biographies and she used the accident of Mrs. Jordan's death to +get in with it . . . the rest was all fiction." + +"Madame Barras?" I stuttered. "You mean Madame Barras?" + +"Madame the Devil," he said. "That's Sunny Suzanne. Used to be +in the Hungarian Follies until the Soviet government of Austria +picked her up to place the imitation English money that its +presses were striking off in Vienna." + + + + +IV. The Cambered Foot + + +I shall not pretend that I knew the man in America or that he was +a friend of my family or that some one had written to me about +him. The plain truth is that I never laid eyes on him until Sir +Henry Marquis pointed him out to me the day after I went down +from here to London. It was in Piccadilly Circus. + +"There's your American," said Sir Henry. + +The girl paused for a few moments. There was profound silence. + +"And that isn't all of it. Nobody presented him to me. I +deliberately picked him up!" + +Three persons were in the drawing-room. An old woman with high +cheekbones, a bowed nose and a firm, thin-lipped mouth was the +central figure. She sat very straight in her chair, her head up +and her hands in her lap. An aged man, in the khaki uniform of a +major of yeomanry, stood at a window looking out, his hands +behind his back, his chin lifted as though he were endeavoring to +see something far away over the English country - something +beyond the little groups of Highland cattle and the great oak +trees. + +Beside the old woman, on a dark wood frame, there was a fire +screen made of the pennant of a Highland regiment. Beyond her +was a table with a glass top. Under this cover, in a sort of +drawer lined with purple velvet, there were medals, trophies and +decorations visible below the sheet of glass. And on the table, +in a heavy metal frame, was the portrait of a young man in the +uniform of a captain of Highland infantry. + +The girl who had been speaking sat in a big armchair by this +table. One knew instantly that she was an American. The liberty +of manner, the independence of expression, could not be mistaken +in a country of established forms. She had abundant brown hair +skillfully arranged under a smart French hat. Her eyes were +blue; not the blue of any painted color; it was the blue of +remote spaces in the tropic sky. + +The old woman spoke without looking at the girl. + +"Then," she said, "it's all quite as" - she hesitated for a word +- "extraordinary as we have been led to believe." + +There was the slow accent of Southern blood in the girl's voice +as she went on. + +"Lady Mary," she said, "it's all far more extraordinary than you +have been led to believe - than any one could ever have led you +to believe. I deliberately picked the man up. I waited for him +outside the Savoy, and pretended to be uncertain about an +address. He volunteered to take me in his motor and I went with +him. I told him I was alone in London, at the Ritz. It was +Blackwell's bank I pretended to be looking for. Then we had +tea." + +The girl paused. + +Presently she continued: "That's how it began: You're mistaken to +imagine that Sir Henry Marquis presented me to this American. It +was the other way about; I presented Sir Henry. I had the run of +the Ritz," she went on. "We all do if we scatter money. Sir +Henry came in to tea the next afternoon. That's how he met Mr. +Meadows. And that's the only place he ever did meet him. Mr. +Meadows came every day, and Sir Henry formed the habit of +dropping in. We got to be a very friendly party." + +The motionless old woman, a figure in plaster until now, kneaded +her fingers as under some moving pressure. "At this time," she +said, "you were engaged to Tony and expected to be his wife!" + +The girl's voice did not change. It was slow and even. "Yes," +she said. + +"Tony, of course, knew nothing about this?" + +"He knows nothing whatever about it unless you have written him." + +Again the old woman moved slightly. "I have waited," she said, +"for the benefit of your explanation. It seems as - as bad as I +feared." + +"Lady Mary," said the girl in her slow voice, "it's worse than +you feared. I don't undertake to smooth it over. Everything +that you have heard is quite true. I did go out with the man in +his motor, in the evening. Sometimes it was quite dark before we +returned. Mr. Meadows preferred to drive at night because he was +not accustomed to the English rule of taking the left on the +road, when one always takes the right in America. He was afraid +he couldn't remember the rule, so it was safer at night and there +was less traffic. + +"I shall not try to make the thing appear better than it was. We +sometimes took long runs. Mr. Meadows liked the high roads along +the east coast, where one got a view of the sea and the cold salt +air. We ran prodigious distances. He had the finest motor in +England, the very latest American model. I didn't think so much +about night coming on, the lights on the car were so wonderful. +Mr. Meadows was an amazing driver. We made express-train time. +The roads were usually clear at night and the motor was a perfect +wonder. The only trouble we ever had was with the lights. +Sometimes one, of them would go out. I think it was bad wiring. +But there was always the sweep of the sea under the stars to look +at while Mr. Meadows got the thing adjusted." + +This long, detailed, shameless speech affected the aged soldier +at the window. It seemed to him immodest bravado. And he +suffered in his heart, as a man old and full of memories can +suffer for the damaged honor of a son he loves. + +Continuing, the girl said: "Of course it isn't true that we spent +the nights touring the east coast of England in a racer. It was +dark sometimes when we got in - occasionally after trouble with +the lights - quite dark. We did go thundering distances." + +"With this person, alone?" The old woman spoke slowly, like one +delicately probing at a wound. + +"Yes," the girl admitted. "You see, the car was a roadster; only +two could go; and, besides, there was no one else. Mr. Meadows +said he was alone in London, and of course I was alone. When Sir +Henry asked me to go down from here I went straight off to the +Ritz." + +The old woman made a slight, shivering gesture. "You should have +gone to my sister in Grosvenor Square. Monte would have put you +up - and looked after you." + +"The Ritz put me up very well," the girl continued. "And I am +accustomed to looking after myself. Sir Henry thought it was +quite all right." + +The old woman spoke suddenly with energy and directness. "I +don't understand Henry in the least," she said. "I was quite +willing for you to go to London when he asked me for permission. +But I thought he would take you to Monte's, and certainly I had +the right to believe that he would not have lent himself to - to +this escapade." + +"He seemed to be very nice about it," the girl went on. "He came +in to tea with us - Mr. Meadows and me - almost every evening. +And he always had something amusing to relate, some blunder of +Scotland Yard or some ripping mystery. I think he found it +immense fun to be Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department. +I loved the talk: Mr. Meadows was always interested and Sir Henry +likes people to be interested." + +The old woman continued to regard the girl as one hesitatingly +touches an exquisite creature frightfully mangled. + +"This person - was he a gentleman?" she inquired. The girl +answered immediately. "I thought about that a good deal," she +said. "He had perfect manners, quite Continental manners; but, +as you say over here, Americans are so imitative one never can +tell. He was not young - near fifty, I would say; very well +dressed. He was from St. Paul; a London agent for some flouring +mills in the Northwest. I don't know precisely. He explained it +all to Sir Henry. I think he would have been glad of a little +influence - some way to meet the purchasing agents for the +government. He seemed to have the American notion that he could +come to London and go ahead without knowing anybody. Anyway, he +was immensely interesting - and he had a ripping motor." + +The old man at the window did not move. He remained looking out +over the English country with his big, veined hands clasped +behind his back. He had left this interview to Lady Mary, as he +had left most of the crucial affairs of life to her dominant +nature. But the thing touched him far deeper than it touched the +aged dowager. He had a man's faith in the fidelity of a loved +woman. + +He knew how his son, somewhere in France, trusted this girl, +believed in her, as long ago in a like youth he had believed in +another. He knew also how the charm of the girl was in the young +soldier's blood, and how potent were these inscrutable mysteries. +Every man who loved a woman wished to believe that she came to +him out of the garden of a convent - out of a roc's egg, like the +princess in the Arabian story. + +All these things he had experienced in himself, in a shattered +romance, in a disillusioned youth, when he was young like the lad +somewhere in France. Lady Mary would see only broken +conventions; but he saw immortal things, infinitely beyond +conventions, awfully broken. He did not move. He remained like +a painted picture. + +The girl went on in her soft, slow voice. "You would have +disliked Mr. Meadows, Lady Mary," she said. "You would dislike +any American who came without letters and could not be precisely +placed." The girl's voice grew suddenly firmer. "I don't mean +to make it appear better," she said. "The worst would be nearer +the truth. He was just an unknown American bagman, with a motor +car, and a lot of time on his hands - and I picked him up. But +Sir Henry Marquis took a fancy to him." + +"I cannot understand Henry," the old woman repeated. "It's +extraordinary." + +"It doesn't seem extraordinary to me," said the girl. "Mr. +Meadows was immensely clever, and Sir Henry was like a man with a +new toy. The Home Secretary had just put him in as Chief of the +Criminal Investigation Department. He was full of a lot of new +ideas - dactyloscopic bureaus, photographie mitrique, and +scientific methods of crime detection. He talked about it all +the time. I didn't understand half the talk. But Mr. Meadows +was very clever. Sir Henry said he was a charming person. +Anybody who could discuss the whorls of the Galton finger-print +tests was just then a charming person to Sir Henry." + +The girl paused a moment, then she went on + +"I suppose things had gone so for about a fortnight when your +sister, Lady Monteith, wrote that she had seen Sir Henry with us +- Mr. Meadows and me - in the motor. I have to shatter a +pleasant fancy about that chaperonage! That was the only time +Sir Henry was ever with us. + +"It came about like this: It was Thursday morning about nine +o'clock, I think, when Sir Henry, popped in at the Ritz. He was +full of some amazing mystery that had turned up at Benton Court, +a country house belonging to the Duke of Dorset, up the Thames +beyond Richmond. He wanted to go there at once. He was fuming +because an under secretary had his motor, and he couldn't catch +up with him. + +"I told him he could have `our' motor. He laughed. And I +telephoned Mr. Meadows to come over and take him up. Sir Henry +asked me to go along. So that's how Lady Monteith happened to +see the three of us crowded into the seat of the big roadster." + +The girl went on in her deliberate, even voice + +"Sir Henry was boiling full of the mystery. He got us all +excited by the time we arrived at Benton Court. I think Mr. +Meadows was as keen about the thing as Sir Henry. They were both +immensely worked up. It was an amazing thing!" + +"You see, Benton Court is a little house of the Georgian period. +It has been closed up for ages, and now, all at once, the most +mysterious things began to happen in it. + +"A local inspector, a very reliable man named Millson, passing +that way on his bicycle, saw a man lying on the doorstep. He +also saw some one running away. It was early in the morning, +just before daybreak. + +"Millson saw only the man's back, but he could distinguish the +color of his clothes. He was wearing a blue coat and +reddish-brown trousers. Millson said he could hardly make out +the blue coat in the darkness, but he could distinctly see the +reddish brown color of the man's trousers. He was very positive +about this. Mr. Meadows and Sir Henry pressed him pretty hard, +but he was firm about it. He could make out that the coat was +blue, and he could see very distinctly that the trousers were +reddish-brown. + +"But the extraordinary thing came a little later. Millson +hurried to a telephone to get Scotland Yard, then he returned to +Benton Court; but when he got back the dead man had disappeared. + +"He insists that he was not away beyond five minutes, but within +that time the dead man had vanished. Millson could find no trace +of him. That's the mystery that sent us tearing up there with +Mr. Meadows and Sir Henry transformed into eager sleuths. + +"We found the approaches to the house under a patrol from +Scotland Yard. But nobody had gone in. The inspector was +waiting for Sir Henry." + +The old man stood like an image, and the aged woman sat in her +chair like a figure in basalt. + +But the girl ran on with a sort of eager unconcern: "Sir Henry +and Mr. Meadows took the whole thing in charge. The door had +been broken open. They examined the marks about the fractures +very carefully; then they went inside. There were some naked +footprints. They were small, as of a little, cramped foot, and +they seemed to be tracked in blood on the hard oak floor. There +was a wax candle partly burned on the table. And that's all +there was. + +"There were some tracks in the dust of the floor, but they were +not very clearly outlined, and Sir Henry thought nothing could be +made of them. + +"It was awfully exciting. I went about behind the two men. Sir +Henry talked all the time. Mr. Meadows was quite as much +interested, but he didn't say anything. He seemed to say less as +the thing went on. + +"They went over everything - the ground outside and every inch of +the house. Then they put everybody out and sat down by a table +in the room where the footprints were. + +"Sir Henry had been awfully careful. He had a big lens with +which to examine the marks of the bloody footprints. He was like +a man on the trail of a buried treasure. He shouted over +everything, thrust his glass into Mr. Meadows' hand and bade him +verify what he had seen. His ardor was infectious. I caught it +myself. + +"Mr. Meadows, in his quiet manner, was just as much concerned in +unraveling the thing as Sir Henry. I never had so wild a time in +all my life. Finally, when Sir Henry put everybody else out and +closed the door, and the three of us sat down at the table to try +to untangle the thing, I very nearly screamed with excitement. +Mr. Meadows sat with his arms folded, not saying a word; but Sir +Henry went ahead with his explanation." + +The girl looked like a vivid portrait, the soft colors of her +gown and all the cool, vivid extravagancies of youth +distinguished in her. Her words indicated fervor and excited +energy; but they were not evidenced in her face or manner. She +was cool and lovely. One would have thought that she recounted +the inanities of a curate's tea party. + +The aged man, in the khaki uniform of a major of yeomanry, +remained in his position at the window. The old woman sat with +her implacable face, unchanging like a thing insensible and +inorganic. + +This unsympathetic aspect about the girl did not seem to disturb +her. She went on: + +"The thing was thrilling. It was better than any theater - the +three of us at the old mahogany table in the room, and the +Scotland Yard patrol outside. + +"Sir Henry was bubbling over with his theory. `I read this +riddle like a printed page,' he said. `It will be the work of a +little band of expert cracksmen that the Continent has kindly +sent us. We have had some samples of their work in Brompton +Road. They are professional crooks of a high order - very clever +at breaking in a door, and, like all the criminal groups that we +get without an invitation from over the Channel, these crooks +have absolutely no regard for human life.' + +"That's the way Sir Henry led off with his explanation. Of +course he had all that Scotland Yard knew about criminal groups +to start him right. It was a good deal to have the identity of +the criminal agents selected out; but I didn't see how he was +going to manage to explain the mystery from the evidence. I was +wild to hear him. Mr. Meadows was quite as interested, I +thought, although he didn't say a word. + +"Sir Henry nodded, as though he took the American's confirmation +as a thing that followed. `We are at the scene,' he said, `of +one of the most treacherous acts of all criminal drama. I mean +the "doing in," as our criminals call it, of the unprofessional +accomplice. It's a regulation piece of business with the +hard-and-fast criminal organizations of the Continent, like the +Nervi of Marseilles, or the Lecca of Paris. + +"`They take in a house servant, a shopkeeper's watchman, or a +bank guard to help them in some big haul. Then they lure him +into some abandoned house, under a pretense of dividing up the +booty, and there put him out of the way. That's what's happened +here. It's a common plan with these criminal groups, and clever +of them. The picked-up accomplice would be sure to let the thing +out. For safety the professionals must "do him in" at once, +straight away after the big job, as a part of what the barrister +chaps call the res gestae.' + +"Sir Henry went on nodding at us and drumming the palm of his +hand on the edge of the table. + +"`This thing happens all the time,' he said, `all about, where +professional criminals are at work. It accounts for a lot of +mysteries that the police cannot make head or tail of, like this +one, for example. Without our knowledge of this sinister custom, +one could not begin or end with an affair like this. + +"`But it's simple when one has the cue - it's immensely simple. +We know exactly what happened and the sort of crooks that were +about the business. The barefoot prints show the Continental +group. That's the trick of Southern Europe to go in barefoot +behind a man to kill him.' + +"Sir Henry jarred the whole table with his big hand. The surface +of the table was covered with powdered chalk that the baronet had +dusted over it in the hope of developing criminal finger prints. +Now under the drumming of his palm the particles of white dust +whirled like microscopic elfin dancers. + +"`The thing's clear as daylight,' he went on: `One of the +professional group brought the accomplice down here to divide the +booty. He broke the door in. They sat down here at this table +with the lighted candle as you see it. And while the stuff was +being sorted out, another of the band slipped in behind the man +and killed him. + +"`They started to carry the body out. Millson chanced by. They +got in a funk and rushed the thing. Of course they had a motor +down the road, and equally of course it was no trick to whisk the +body out of the neighborhood.' + +"Sir Henry got half up on his feet with his energy in the +solution of the thing. He thrust his spread-out fingers down. +on the table like a man, by that gesture, pressing in an +inevitable, conclusive summing up." + +The girl paused. "It was splendid, I thought. I applauded like +an entranced pit! + +"But Mr. Meadows didn't say a word. He took up the big glass we +had used about the inspection of the place, and passed it over +the prints Sir Henry was unconsciously making in the dust on the +polished surface of the table. Then he put the glass down and +looked the excited baronet calmly in the face. + +"`There,' cried Sir Henry, `the thing's no mystery.' + +"For the first time Mr. Meadows opened his mouth. `It's the +profoundest mystery I ever heard of,' he said. + +"Sir Henry was astonished. He sat down and looked across the +table at the man. He wasn't able to speak for a moment, then he +got it out: `Why exactly do you say that?' + +"Mr. Meadows put his elbows on the table. He twiddled the big +reading glass in his fingers. His face got firm and decided. + +"`To begin with,' he said, `the door to this house was never +broken by a professional cracksman. It's the work of a bungling +amateur. A professional never undertakes to break a door at the +lock. Naturally that's the firmest place about a door. The +implement he intends to use as a lever on the door he puts in at +the top or bottom. By that means he has half of the door as a +lever against the resistance of the lock. Besides, a +professional of any criminal group is a skilled workman. He +doesn't waste effort. He doesn't fracture a door around the +lock. This door's all mangled, splintered and broken around the +lock.'" + +"He stopped and looked about the room, and out through the window +at the Scotland Yard patrol. The features of his face were +contracted with the problem. One could imagine one saw the man's +mind laboring at the mystery. `And that's not all,' he said. +`Your man Millson is not telling the truth. He didn't see a dead +body lying on the steps of this house; and he didn't see a man +running away.' + +"Sir Henry broke in at that. `Impossible,' he said; 'Millson's a +first-class inspector, absolutely reliable. Why do you say that +he didn't see the dead man on the steps or the assassin running +away?' + +"Mr. Meadows answered in the same even voice. `Because there was +never any dead man here,' he said, `for anybody to see. And +because Millson's 'description of the man he saw is +scientifically an impossible feat of vision.' + +"Impossible?' cried Sir Henry. + +"`Quite impossible,' Mr. Meadows insisted. 'Millson tells us +that the man he saw running away in the night wore a blue coat +and reddish-brown trousers. He says he was barely able to +distinguish the blue coat, but that he could see the +reddish-brown trousers very clearly. Now, as a matter of fact, +it has been very accurately determined that red is the hardest +color to distinguish at night, and blue the very easiest. A blue +coat would be clearly visible long after reddish-brown trousers +had become indistinguishable in the darkness.' + +"Sir Henry's under jaw sagged a little. `Why, yes,' he said, +`that's true; that's precisely true. Gross, at the University of +Gratz, determined that by experiment in 1912. I never thought +about it!' + +"`There are some other things here that you have not, perhaps, +precisely thought about,' Mr. Meadows went on. + +"`For example, the things that happened in this room did not +happen in the night. They happened in the day.' + +"He pointed to the half-burned wax candle on the table. `There's +a headless joiner's nail driven into the table,' he said, `and +this candle is set down over the nail. That means that the +person who placed it there wished it to remain there - to remain +there firmly. He didn't put it down there for the brief +requirements of a passing tragedy, he put it there to remain; +that's one thing. + +"`Another thing is that this candle thus firmly fastened on the +table was never alight there. If it had ever been burning in its +position on the table, some of the drops of melted wax would have +fallen about it. + +"`You will observe that, while the candle is firmly fixed, it +does not set straight; it is inclined at least ten degrees out of +perpendicular. In that position it couldn't have burned for a +moment without dripping melted wax on the table. And there's +none on the table; there has never been any on it. Your glass +shows not the slightest evidence of a wax stain.' He added: +`Therefore the candle is a blind; false evidence to give us the +impression of a night affair.' + +"Sir Henry's jaw sagged; now his mouth gaped. `True,' he said. +`True, true.' He seemed to get some relief to his damaged +deductions out of the repeated word. + +"The irony in Mr. Meadows' voice increased a little. `Nor is +that all,' he said. `The smear on the floor, and the stains in +which the naked foot tracked, are not human blood. They're not +any sort of blood. It was clearly evident when you had your lens +over them. They show no coagulated fiber. They show only the +evidences of dye - weak dye - watered red ink, I'd say.' + +"I thought Sir Henry was going to crumple up in his chair. He +seemed to get loose and baggy in some extraordinary fashion, and +his gaping jaw worked. `But the footprints,' he said, `the naked +footprints?' His voice was a sort of stutter-the sort of shaken +stutter of a man who has come a' tumbling cropper. + +"The American actually laughed: he laughed as we sometimes laugh +at a mental defective. + +"`They're not footprints!' he said. `Nobody ever had a foot +cambered like that, or with a heel like it, or with toes like it. +Somebody made those prints with his hand - the edge of his palm +for the heel and the balls of his fingers for the toes. The +wide, unstained distances between these heelprints and the prints +of the ball of the toes show the impossible arch.' + +"Sir Henry was like a man gone to pieces. `But who - who made +them?' he faltered. + +"The American leaned forward and put the big glass over the +prints that Sir Henry had made with his fingers in the white dust +on the mahogany table. `I think you know the answer to your +question,' he said. `The whorls of these prints are identical +with those of the toe tracks.' + +"Then he laid the glass carefully down, sat back in his chair, +folded his arms and looked at Sir Henry. + +"`Now,' he said, `will you kindly tell me why you have gone to +the trouble of manufacturing all these false evidences of a +crime?"' + +The girl paused. There was intense silence in the drawing-room. +The aged man at the window had turned and was looking at her. +The face of the old woman seemed vague and uncertain. + +The girl smiled. + +"Then," she said, "the real, amazing miracle happened. Sir Henry +got on his feet, his big body tense, his face like iron, his +voice ringing. + +"`I went to that trouble,' he said, `because I wished to +demonstrate - I wished to demonstrate beyond the possibility of +any error - that Mr. Arthur Meadows, the pretended American from +St. Paul, was in fact the celebrated criminologist, Karl Holweg +Leibnich, of Bonn, giving us the favor of his learned presence +while he signaled the German submarines off the east coast roads +with his high-powered motor lights.'" + +Now there was utter silence in the drawing-room but for the low +of the Highland cattle and the singing of the birds outside + +For the first time there came a little tremor in the girl's +voice. + +"When Sir Henry doubted this American and asked me to go down and +make sure before he set a trap for him, I thought - I thought, if +Tony could risk his life for England, I could do that much." + +At this moment a maid appeared in the doorway, the trim, +immaculate, typical English maid. "Tea is served, my lady," she +said. + +The tall, fine old man crossed the room and offered his arm to +the girl with the exquisite, gracious manner with which once upon +a time he had offered it to a girlish queen at Windsor. + +The ancient woman rose as if she would go out before them. Then +suddenly, at the door, she stepped aside for the girl to pass, +making the long, stooping, backward curtsy of the passed +Victorian era. + +"After you, my dear," she said, "always!" + + + + +V. The Man in the Green Hat + + +"Alas, monsieur, in spite of our fine courtesies, the conception +of justice by one race must always seem outlandish to another!" + +It was on the terrace of Sir Henry Marquis' villa at Cannes. The +members of the little party were in conversation over their +tobacco - the Englishman, with his brier-root pipe; the American +Justice, with a Havana cigar; and the aged Italian, with his +cigarette. The last was speaking. + +He was a very old man, but he gave one the impression of +incredible, preposterous age. He was bald; he had neither +eyebrows nor eyelashes. A wiry mustache, yellow with nicotine, +alone remained. Great wrinkles lay below the eyes and along the +jaw, under a skin stretched like parchment over the bony +protuberances of the face. + +These things established the aspect of old age; but it was the +man's expression and manner that gave one the sense of +incalculable antiquity. The eyes seemed to look out from a +window, where the man behind them had sat watching the human race +from the beginning. And his manners had the completion of one +whose experience of life is comprehensive and finished. + +"It seems strange to you, monsieur" - he was addressing, in +French, the American Justice - "that we should put our prisoners +into an iron cage, as beasts are exhibited in a circus. You are +shocked at that. It strikes you as the crudity of a race not +quite civilized. + +"You inquire about it with perfect courtesy; but, monsieur, you +inquire as one inquires about a custom that his sense of justice +rejects." + +He paused. + +"Your pardon, monsieur; but there are some conceptions of justice +in the law of your admirable country that seem equally strange to +me." + +The men about the Count on the exquisite terrace, looking down +over Cannes into the arc of the sea, felt that the great age of +this man gave him a right of frankness, a privilege of direct +expression, they could not resent. Somehow, at the extremity of +life, he seemed beyond pretenses; and he had the right to omit +the digressions by which younger men are accustomed to approach +the truth. + +"What is this strange thing in our law, Count?" said the +American. + +The old man made a vague gesture, as one who puts away an +inquiry until the answer appears. + +"Many years ago," he continued, "I read a story about the red +Indians by your author, Cooper. It was named `The Oak Openings,' +and was included, I think, in a volume entitled Stories of the +Prairie. I believe I have the names quite right, since the +author impressed me as an inferior comer with an abundance of +gold about him. In the story Corporal Flint was captured by the +Indians under the leadership of Bough of Oak, a cruel and +bloodthirsty savage. + +"This hideous beast determined to put his prisoner to the torture +of the saplings, a barbarity rivaling the crucifixion of the +Romans. Two small trees standing near each other were selected, +the tops lopped off and the branches removed; they were bent and +the tops were lashed together. One of the victim's wrists was +bound to the top of each of the young trees; then the saplings +were released and the victim, his arms wrenched and dislocated, +hung suspended in excruciating agony, like a man nailed to a +cross. + +"It was fearful torture. The strain on the limbs was hideous, +yet the victim might live for days. Nothing short of crucifixion +- that beauty of the Roman law - ever equaled it." + +He paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +"Corporal Flint, who seemed to have a knowledge of the Indian +character, had endeavored so to anger the Indians by taunt and +invective that some brave would put an arrow into his heart, or +dash his brains out with a stone ax. + +"In this he failed. Bough of Oak controlled his braves and +Corporal Flint was lashed to the saplings. But, as the trees +sprang apart, wrenching the man's arms out of their sockets, a +friendly Indian, Pigeonwing, concealed in a neighboring thicket, +unable to rescue his friend and wishing to save him from the long +hours of awful torture, shot Corporal Flint through the forehead. + +"Now," continued the Count, "if there was no question about these +facts, and Bough of Oak stood for trial before any civilized +tribunal on this earth, do you think the laws of any country +would acquit him of the murder of Corporal Flint?" + +The whole company laughed. + +"I am entirely serious," continued the Count. "What do you +think? There are three great nations represented here." + +"The exigencies of war," said Sir Henry Marquis, "might +differentiate a barbarity from a crime." + +"But let us assume," replied the Count, "that no state of war +existed; that it was a time of peace; that Corporal Flint was +innocent of wrong; and that Bough of Oak was acting entirely from +a depraved instinct bent on murder. In other words, suppose this +thing had occurred yesterday in one of the Middle States of the +American Republic?" + +The American felt that this question was directed primarily to +himself. He put down his cigar and indicated the Englishman by a +gesture. + +"Your great jurist, Sir James Stephen," he began, "constantly +reminds us that the criminal law is a machine so rough and +dangerous that we can use it only with every safety device +attached. + +"And so, Count," he continued, to the Italian, "the +administration of the criminal law in our country may seem to you +subject to delays and indirections that are not justified. These +abuses could be generally corrected by an intelligent presiding +judge; but, in part, they are incidental to a fair and full +investigation of the charge against the prisoner. I think, +however, that our conception of justice does not differ from that +of other nations." + +The old Count shrugged his shoulders at the digression. + +"I beg your pardon," he said. "I do not refer to the mere +administration of the criminal law in your country; though, +monsieur, we have been interested in observing its peculiarities +in such notable examples as the Thaw trials in New York, and the +Anarchist cases in Chicago some years ago. I believe the judge +in the latter trial gave about one hundred instructions on the +subject of reasonable doubt - quite intelligible, I dare say, to +an American jury; but, I must confess, somewhat beyond me in +their metaphysical refinements. + +"I should understand reasonable doubt if I were uninstructed, but +I do not think I could explain it. I should be, concerning it, +somewhat as Saint Augustine was with a certain doctrine of the +Church when he said: `I do not know if you ask me; but if you do +not ask me I know very well.'" + +He paused and blew a tiny ring or smoke out over the terrace +toward the sea. + +"There was a certain poetic justice finally in that case," he +added. + +"The prisoners were properly convicted of the Haymarket murders," +said the American Justice. + +"Ah, no doubt," returned the Count; "but I was not thinking of +that. Following a custom of your courts, I believe, the judge at +the end of the trial put the formal inquiry as to whether the +prisoners had anything to say. Whereupon they rose and addressed +him for six days!" + +He bowed. + +"After that, monsieur, I am glad to add, they were all very +properly hanged. + +"But, monsieur, permit me to return to my question: Do you think +any intelligent tribunal on this earth would acquit Bough of Oak +of the murder of Corporal Flint under the conditions I have +indicated?" + +"No," said the American. "It would be a cold-blooded murder; and +in the end the creature would be executed." + +The old Count turned suddenly in his chair. + +"Yes," he said, "in a Continental court, it is certain; but in +America, monsieur, under your admirable law, founded on the +common law of England?" + +"I am sure we should hang him," replied the American. + +"Monsieur," cried the old Count, "you have me profoundly +puzzled." + +It seemed to the little group on the terrace that they, and not +the Count, were indicated by that remark. He had stated a case +about which there could be no two opinions under any civilized +conception of justice. Sir Henry Marquis had pointed out the +only element - a state of war - which could distinguish the case +from plain premeditated murder in its highest degree. They +looked to him for an explanation; but it did not immediately +arrive. + +The Count noticed it and offered a word of apology. + +"Presently - presently," he said. "We have these two words in +Italian - sparate! and aspetate! Monsieur." + +He turned to the American: + +"You do not know our language, I believe. Suppose I should +suddenly call out one of these words and afterward it should +prove that a life hung on your being able to say which word it +was I uttered. Do you think, monsieur, you could be certain? + +"No, monsieur; and so courts are wise to require a full +explanation of every extraordinary fact. George Goykovich, an +Austrian, having no knowledge of the Italian language, swore in +the court of an American state that he heard a prisoner use the +Italian word sparate! and that he could not be mistaken. + +"I would not believe him, monsieur, on that statement; but he +explained that he was a coal miner, that the mines were worked by +Italians, and that this word was called out when the coal was +about to be shot down with powder. + +"Ah, monsieur, the explanation is complete. George Goykovich +must know this word; it was a danger signal. I would believe now +his extraordinary statement." + +The Count stopped a moment and lighted another cigarette. + +"Pardon me if I seem to proceed obliquely. The incident is +related to the case I approach; and it makes clear, monsieur, why +the courts of France, for example, permit every variety of +explanation in a criminal trial, while your country and the great +English nation limit explanations. + +"You do not permit hearsay evidence to save a man's life; with a +fine distinction you permit it to save only his character!" + +"The rule," replied the American justice, "everywhere among +English-speaking people is that the best evidence of which the +subject is capable shall be produced. We permit a witness to +testify only to what he actually knows. That is the rule. It is +true there are exceptions to it. In some instances he may +testify as to what he has heard." + +"Ah, yes," replied the Count; "you will not permit such evidence +to take away a man's horse, but you will permit it to take away a +woman's reputation! I shall never be able to understand these +delicate refinements of the English law!" + +"But, Count," suggested Sir Henry Marquis, "reputation is +precisely that what the neighborhood says about one." + +"Pardon, monsieur," returned the Count. "I do not criticize your +customs. They are doubtless excellent in every variety of way. +I deplore only my inability to comprehend them. For example, +monsieur, why should you hold a citizen responsible in all other +cases only for what he does, but in the case of his own character +turn about and try him for what people say he does? + +"Thus, monsieur, as I understand it, the men of an English +village could not take away my pig by merely proving that +everybody said it was stolen; but they could brand me as a liar +by merely proving what the villagers said! It seems incredible +that men should put such value on a pig." + +Sir Henry Marquis laughed. + +"It is not entirely a question of values, Count." + +"I beg you to pardon me, monsieur," the Italian went on. +"Doubtless, on this subject I do nothing more than reveal an +intelligence lamentably inefficient; but I had the idea that +English people were accustomed to regard property of greater +importance than life." + +"I have never heard," replied the Englishman, smiling, "that our +courts gave more attention to pigs than to murder." + +"Why, yes, monsieur," said the Count - "that is precisely what +they have been accustomed to do. It is only, I believe, within +recent years that one convicted of murder in England could take +an appeal to a higher court; though a controversy over pigs - or, +at any rate, the pasture on which they gathered acorns - could +always be carried up." + +The great age of the Count - he seemed to be the representative +in the world of some vanished empire - gave his irony a certain +indirection. Everybody laughed. And he added: "Even your word +`murder,' I believe, was originally the name of a fine imposed by +the Danes on a village unless it could be proved that the person +found dead was an Englishman! + +"I wonder when, precisely, the world began to regard it as a +crime to kill an Englishman?" + +The parchment on the bones of his face wrinkled into a sort of +smile. His greatest friend on the Riviera was this pipe-smoking +Briton. + +Then suddenly, with a nimble gesture that one would not believe +possible in the aged, he stripped back his sleeve and exhibited a +long, curiously twisted scar, as though a bullet had plowed along +the arm. + +"Alas, monsieur," he said, "I myself live in the most primitive +condition of society! I pay a tribute for life . . . . Ah! no, +monsieur; it is not to the Camorra that I pay. It is quite +unromantic. I think my secretary carries it in his books as a +pension to an indigent relative." + +He turned to the American + +"Believe me, monsieur, my estates in Salerno are not what they +were; the olive trees are old and all drains on my income are a +burden - even this gratuity. I thought I should be rid of it; +but, alas, the extraordinary conception of justice in your +country!" + +He broke the cigarette in his fingers, and flung the pieces over +the terrace. + +"In the great range of mountains," he began, "slashing across the +American states and beautifully named the Alleghanies, there is a +vast measure of coal beds. It is thither that the emigrants from +Southern Europe journey. They mine out the coal, sometimes +descending into the earth through pits, or what in your language +are called shafts, and sometimes following the stratum of the +coal bed into the hill. + +"This underworld, monsieur - this, sunless world, built +underneath the mountains, is a section of Europe slipped under +the American Republic. The language spoken there is not English. +The men laboring in those buried communities cry out sparate when +they are about to shoot down the coal with powder. It is Italy +under there. There is a river called the Monongahela in those +mountains. It is an Indian name." + +He paused. + +"And so, monsieur, what happened along it doubtless reminded me +of Cooper's story - Bough of Oak and the case of Corporal Flint." + +He took another cigarette out of a box on the table, but he did +not light it. + +"In one of the little mining villages along this river with the +enchanting name there was a man physically like the people of the +Iliad; and with that, monsieur, he had a certain cast of mind not +unHellenic. He was tall, weighed two hundred and forty pounds, +lean as a gladiator, and in the vigor of golden youth. + +"There were no wars to journey after and no adventures; but there +was danger and adventure here. This land was full of cockle, +winnowed out of Italy, Austria and the whole south of Europe. It +took courage and the iron hand of the state to keep the peace. +Here was a life of danger; and this Ionian - big, powerful, +muscled like the heroes of the Circus Maximus - entered this +perilous service. + +"Monsieur, I have said his mind was Hellenic, like his big, +wonderful body. Mark you how of heroic antiquity it was! It was +his boast, among the perils that constantly beset him, that no +criminal should ever take his life; that, if ever he should +receive a mortal wound from the hand of the assassins about him, +he would not wait to die in agony by it. He himself would sever +the damaged thread of life and go out like a man! + +"Observe, monsieur, how like the great heroes of legend - like +the wounded Saul when he ordered his armor-bearer to kill him; +like Brutus when he fell on his sword!" + +He looked intently at the American. + +"Doubtless, monsieur," he went on, "those near this man along the +Monongahela did not appreciate his attitude of grandeur; but to +us, in the distance, it seemed great and noble." + +He looked out over the Mediterranean, where the great adventurers +who cherished these lofty pagan ideals once beat along in the +morning of the world. + +"On an afternoon of summer," he continued like one who begins a +saga, "this man, alone and fearless, followed a violator of the +law and arrested him in a house of the village. As he led the +man away he noticed that an Italian followed. He was a little +degenerate, wearing a green hat, and bearing now one name and now +another. They traversed the village toward, the municipal +prison; and this creature, featured like a Parisian Apache, +skulked behind. + +"As they went along, two Austrians seated on the porch of a house +heard the little man speak to the prisoner. He used the word +sparate. They did not know what he meant, for he spoke in +Italian; but they recognized the word, for it was the word used +in the mines before the coal was shot down. The prisoner made +his reply in Italian, which the Austrians did not understand. + +"It seemed that this man who had made the arrest did not know +Italian, for he stopped and asked the one behind him whether the +prisoner was his brother. The man replied in the negative." + +The Count paused, as though for an explanation. "What the Apache +said was: `Shall I shoot him here or wait until we reach the +ravine?' And the prisoner replied: `Wait until we come to the +ravine.' + +"They went on. Presently they reached a sort of hollow, where +the reeds grew along the road densely and to the height of a +man's head. Here the Italian Apache, the degenerate with the +green hat, following some three steps behind, suddenly drew a +revolver from his pocket and shot the man twice in the back. It +was a weapon carrying a lead bullet as large as the tip of one's +little finger. The officer fell. The Apache and the prisoner +fled. + +"The wounded man got up. He spread out his arms; and he shouted, +with a great voice, like the heroes of the Iliad. The two wounds +were mortal; they were hideous, ghastly wounds, ripping up the +vital organs in the man's body and severing the great arteries. +The splendid pagan knew he had received his death wounds; and, +true to his atavistic ideal, the ideal of the Greek, the Hebrew +and the Roman, the ideal of the great pagan world to which he in +spirit belonged, and of which the poets sing, he put his own +weapon to his head and blew his brains out." + +The old Count, his chin up, his withered, yellow face vitalized, +lifted his hands like one before something elevated and noble. +After some moments had passed he continued: + +"On the following day the assassin was captured in a neighboring +village. Feeling ran so high that it was with difficulty that +the officers of the law saved him from being lynched. He was +taken about from one prison to another. Finally he was put on +trial for murder. + +"There was never a clearer case before any tribunal in this +world. + +"Many witnesses identified the assassin - not merely +English-speaking men, who might have been mistaken or prejudiced, +but Austrians, Poles, Italians - the men of the mines who knew +him; who had heard him cry out the fatal Italian word; who saw +him following in the road behind his victim on that Sunday +afternoon of summer; who knew his many names and every feature of +his cruel, degenerate face. There was no doubt anywhere in the +trial. Learned surgeons showed that the two wounds in the dead +man's back from the big-calibered weapon were deadly, fatal +wounds that no man could have survived. + +"There was nothing incomplete in that trial. + +"Everything was so certain that the assassin did not even +undertake to contradict; not one statement, not one word of the +evidence against him did he deny. It was a plain case of +willful, deliberate and premeditated murder. The judge presiding +at the trial instructed the jury that a man is presumed to intend +that which he does; that whoever kills a human being with malice +aforethought is guilty of murder; that murder which is +perpetrated by any kind of willful, deliberate and premeditated +killing is murder in the first degree. The jury found the +assassin guilty and the judge sentenced him to be hanged." + +The Count paused and looked at his companions about him on the +terrace. + +"Messieurs," he said, "do you think that conviction was just?" + +There was a common assent. Some one said: "It was a cruel murder +if ever there was one." And another: "It was wholly just; the +creature deserved to hang." + +The old Count bowed, putting out his hands. + +"And so I hoped he would." + +"What happened?" said the American. + +The Count regarded him with a queer, ironical smile. + +"Unlike the great British people, monsieur," he replied, "your +courts have never given the pig, or the pasture on which he +gathers his acorns, a consideration above the human family. The +case was taken to your Court of Appeals of that province." + +He stopped and lighted his cigarette deliberately, with a match +scratched slowly on the table. + +"Monsieur," he said, "I do not criticize your elevated court. It +is composed of learned men - wise and patriotic, I have no doubt. +They cannot make the laws, monsieur; they cannot coin a +conception of justice for your people. They must enforce the +precise rules of law that the conception of justice in your +country has established. + +"Nevertheless, monsieur" - and his thin yellow lips curled - "for +the sake of my depleted revenues I could have wished that the +decision of this court had been other than it was." + +"And what did it decide?" asked the American. + +"It decided, monsieur," replied the Count, "that my estates in +Salerno must continue to be charged with the gratuity to the +indigent relative. + +"That is to say, monsieur, it decided, because the great pagan +did not wait to die in agony, did not wait for the mortal wounds +inflicted by the would-be assassin to kill him, that interesting +person - the man in the green hat - was not guilty of murder in +the first degree and could not be hanged!" + + +Note - See State versus Angelina; 80 Southeastern Reporter, 141: +"The intervening responsible agent who wrongfully accelerates +death is guilty of the murder, and not the one who inflicted the +first injury, though in itself mortal." + + + + +VI. The Wrong Sign + + +It was an ancient diary in a faded leather cover. The writing +was fine and delicate, and the ink yellow with age. Sir Henry +Marquis turned the pages slowly and with care for the paper was +fragile. + +We had dined early at the Ritz and come in later to his great +home in St. James's Square. + +He wished to show me this old diary that had come to him from a +branch of his mother's family in Virginia - a branch that had +gone out with a King's grant when Virginia was a crown colony. +The collateral ancestor, Pendleton, had been a justice of the +peace in Virginia, and a spinster daughter had written down some +of the strange cases with which her father had been concerned. + +Sir Henry Marquis believed that these cases in their tragic +details, and their inspirational, deductive handling, equaled any +of our modern time. The great library overlooking St. James's +Square, was curtained off from London. Sir Henry read by the +fire; and I listened, returned, as by some recession of time to +the Virginia of a vanished decade. The narrative of the diary +follows: + + +My father used to say that the Justice of God was sometimes swift +and terrible. He said we thought of it usually as remote and +deliberate, a sort of calm adjustment in some supernatural Court +of Equity. But this idea was far from the truth. He had seen +the justice of God move on the heels of a man with appalling +swiftness; with a crushing force and directness that simply +staggered the human mind. I know the case he thought about. + +Two men sat over a table when my father entered. One of them got +up. He was a strange human creature, when you stood and looked +calmly at him. You thought the Artificer had designed him for a +priest of the church. He had the massive features and the fringe +of hair around his bald head like a tonsure. At first, to your +eye, it was the vestments of the church, he lacked; then you saw +that the lack was something fundamental; something organic in the +nature of the man. And as he held and stimulated your attention +you got a fearful idea, that the purpose for which this human +creature was shaped had been somehow artfully reversed! + +He was big boned and tall when he stood up. + +"Pendleton," he said, "I would have come to you, but for my +guest." + +And he indicated the elegant young man at the table. + +"But I did not send you word to ride a dozen miles through the +hills on any trivial business, or out of courtesy to me. It is a +matter of some import, so I will pay ten eagles." + +My father looked steadily at the man. + +"I am not for hire," he said. + +My father was a justice of the peace in Virginia, under the +English system, by the theory of which the most substantial men +in a county undertook to keep the peace for the welfare of the +State. Like Washington in the service of the Colonial army, he +took no pay. + +The big man laughed. + +"We are most of us for purchase, and all of us for hire," he +said. "I will make it twenty!" + +The young man at the table now interrupted. He was elegant in +the costume of the time, in imported linen and cloth from an +English loom. His hair was thick and black; his eyebrows +straight, his body and his face rich in the blood and the +vitalities of youth. But sensuality was on him like a shadow. +The man was given over to a life of pleasure. + +"Mr. Pendleton," he said, with a patronizing pedantic air, "the +commonwealth is interested to see that litigation does not arise; +and to that end, I hope you will not refuse us the benefit of +your experience. We are about to draw up a deed of sale running +into a considerable sum, and we would have it court proof." + +He made a graceful gesture with his jeweled hand. + +"I would be secure in my purchase, and Zindorf in his eagles, and +you, Sir, in the knowledge that the State will not be vexed by +any suit between us. Every contract, I believe, upon some theory +of the law, is a triangular affair with the State a party. Let +us say then, that you represent Virginia!" + +"In the service of the commonwealth," replied my father coldly, +"I am always to be commanded." + +The man flicked a bit of dust from his immaculate coat sleeve. + +"It will be a conference of high powers. I shall represent Eros; +Mr. Pendleton, Virginia; and Zindorf" and he laughed - "his +Imperial Master!" + +And to the eye the three men fitted to their legend. The +Hellenic God of pleasure in his sacred groves might have chosen +for his disciple one from Athens with a face and figure like this +youth. My father bore the severities of the law upon him. And I +have written how strange a creature the third party to this +conference was. + +He now answered with an oath. + +"You have a very pretty wit, Mr. Lucian Morrow," he said. "I add +to my price a dozen eagles for it." + +The young man shrugged his shoulders in his English coat. + +"Smart money, eh, Zindorf . . . Well, it does not make me smart. +It only makes me remember that Count Augsburg educated you in +Bavaria for the Church and you fled away from it to be a slave +trader in Virginia." + +He got on his feet, and my father saw that the man was in liquor. +He was not drunken, but the effect was on him with its daring and +its indiscretions. + +It was an April morning, bright with sun. The world was white +with apple blossoms, the soft air entered through the great open +windows. And my father thought that the liquor in the man had +come with him out of a night of bargaining or revel. + +Morrow put his hands on the table and looked at Zindorf ; then, +suddenly, the laughter in his face gave way to the comprehension +of a swift, striking idea. + +"Why, man," he cried, "it's the devil's truth! Everything about +you is a negation! You ought to be a priest by all the lines and +features of you; but you're not. . . Scorch me, but you're not!" + +His voice went up on the final word as though to convey some +impressive, sinister discovery. + +It was true in every aspect of the man. The very clothes he +wore, somber, wool-threaded homespun, crudely patched, reminded +one of the coarse fabrics that monks affect for their abasement. +But one saw, when one remembered the characteristic of the man, +that they represented here only an extremity of avarice. + +Zindorf looked coldly at his guest. + +"Mr. Lucian Morrow," he said, "you will go on, and my price will +go on!" + +But the young blood, on his feet, was not brought up by the +monetary threat. He looked about the room, at the ceiling, the +thick walls. And, like a man who by a sudden recollection +confounds his adversary with an overlooked illustrative fact, he +suddenly cried out: + +"By the soul of Satan, you're housed to suit! Send me to the +pit! It's the very place for you! Eh! Zindorf, do you know who +built the house you live in?" + +"I do not, Mr. Lucian Morrow," said the man. "Who built it?" + +One could see that he wished to divert the discourses of his +guest. He failed. + +"God built it!" cried Morrow. + +He put out his hands as though to include the hose. + +"Pendleton," he said, "you will remember. The people built these +walls for a church. It burned, but the stone walls could not +burn; they remained overgrown with creeper. Then, finally, old +Wellington Monroe built a house into the walls for the young wife +he was about to marry, but he went to the coffin instead of the +bride-bed, and the house stood empty. It fell into the courts +with the whole of Monroe's tangled business and finally Zindorf +gets it at a sheriff's sale." + +The big man now confronted the young blood with decision. + +"Mr. Lucian Morrow," he said, "if you are finished with your fool +talk, I will bid you good morning. I have decided not to sell +the girl." + +The face of Morrow changed. His voice wheedled in an anxious +note. + +"Not sell her, Zindorf!" he echoed. "Why man, you have promised +her to me all along. You always said I should have her in spite +of your cursed partner Ordez. You said you'd get her some day +and sell her to me. Now, curse it, Zindorf, I want her . . . +I've got the money: ten thousand dollars. It's a big lot of +money. But I've got it. I've got it in gold." + +He went on: + +"Besides, Zindorf, you can have the money, it'll mean more to +you. But it's the girl I want." + +He stood up and in his anxiety the effect of the liquor faded +out. + +"I've waited on your promise, Zindorf. You said that some day, +when Ordez was hard-pressed he would sell her for money, even if +she was his natural daughter. You were right; you knew Ordez. +You have got an assignment of all the slaves in possession, in +the partnership, and Ordez has cleared out of the country. I +know what you paid for his half-interest in this business, it's +set out in the assignment. It was three thousand dollars. + +"Think of it, man, three thousand dollars to Ordez for a +wholesale, omnibus assignment of everything. An elastic legal +note of an assignment that you can stretch to include this girl +along with the half-dozen other slaves that you have on hand +here; and I offer you ten thousand dollars for the girl alone!" + +One could see how the repetition of the sum in gold affected +Zindorf. + +He had the love of money in that dominating control that the +Apostle spoke of. But the elegant young man was moved by a lure +no less potent. And his anxiety, for the time, suppressed the +evidences of liquor. + +"I'll take the risk on the title, Zindorf. You and Ordez were +partners in this traffic. Ordez gives you a general assignment +of all slaves on hand for three thousand dollars and lights out +of the country. He leaves his daughter here among the others. +And this general assignment can be construed to include her. Her +mother was a slave and that brings her within the law. We know +precisely who her mother was, and all about it. You looked it up +and my lawyer, Mr. Cable, looked it up. Her mother was the +octoroon woman, Suzanne, owned by old Judge Marquette in New +Orleans. + +"There may have been some sort of church marriage, but there's no +legal record, Cable says. + +"The woman belonged to Marquette, and under the law the girl is a +slave. You got a paper title out of Marquette's executors, +privily, years ago. Now you have this indefinite assignment by +Ordez. He's gone to the Spanish Islands, or the devil, or both. +And if Mr. Pendleton can draw a deed of sale that will stand in +the courts between us, I'll take the risk on the validity of my +title." + +He paused. + +"The law's sound on slaves, Judge Madison has a dozen himself, +not all black either; not three-eighths black!" and he laughed. + +Then he turned to my father. + +"Mr. Pendleton," he said, "I persuaded Zindorf to send for you to +draw up this deed of sale. I have no confidence in the little +practicing tricksters at the county seat. They take a fee and, +with premeditation, write a word or phrase into the contract that +leaves it open for a suit at law." + +He made a courteous bow, accompanied by a dancing master's +gesture. + +"I do not offend you with the offer of a fee, but I present my +gratitude for the conspicuous courtesy, and I indicate the +service to the commonwealth of legal papers in form and court +proof. May I hope, Sir, that you will not deny us the benefit of +your highly distinguished service." + +My father very slowly looked about him in calm reflection. + +He had ridden ten miles through the hills on this April morning, +at Zindorf's message sent the night before. The clay of the +roads was still damp and plastic from the recent rain. There +were flecks of mud on him and the splashing of the streams. + +He was a big, dominating man, in the hardened strength and +experience of middle life. He had come, as he believed, upon +some service of the state. And here was a thing for the little +dexterities of a lawyer's clerk. Everybody in Virginia, who knew +my father, can realize how he was apt to meet the vague message +of Zindorf that got him in this house, and the patronizing +courtesies of Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +He was direct and virile, and while he feared God, like the great +figures in the Pentateuch, as though he were a judge of Israel +enforcing his decrees with the weapon of iron, I cannot write +here, that at any period of his life, or for any concern or +reason, he very greatly regarded man. + +He went over to the window and looked out at the hills and the +road that he had traveled. + +The mid-morning sun was on the fields and groves like a +benediction. The soft vitalizing air entered and took up the +stench of liquor, the ash of tobacco and the imported perfumes +affected by Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +The windows in the room were long, gothic like a church, and +turning on a pivot. They ran into the ceiling that Monroe had +built across the gutted walls. The house stood on the crown of a +hill, in a cluster of oak trees. Below was the abandoned +graveyard, the fence about it rotted down; the stone slabs +overgrown with moss. The four roads running into the hills +joined and crossed below this oak grove that the early people had +selected for a house of God. + +My father looked out on these roads and far back on the one that +he had traveled. + +There was no sound in the world, except the faint tolling of a +bell in a distant wood on the road. It was far off on the way to +my father's house, and the vague sound was to be heard only when +a breath of wind carried from that way. + +My father gathered his big chin, flat like a plowshare, into the +trough of his bronze hand. He stood for some moments in +reflection, then he turned to Mr. Lucian Morrow. + +"I think you are right," he said. "I think this is a triangular +affair with the state a party. I am in the service of the state. +Will you kindly put the table by this window." + +They thought he wished the air, and would thus escape the +closeness of the room. And while my father stood aside, Zindorf +and his guest carried the flat writing table to the window and +placed a chair. + +My father sat down behind the table by the great open window, and +looked at Zindorf. + +The man moved and acted like a monk. He had the figure and the +tonsured head. His coarse, patched clothes cut like the homely +garments of the simple people of the day, were not wholly out of +keeping to the part. The idea was visualized about him; the +simplicity and the poverty of the great monastic orders in their +vast, noble humility. All striking and real until one saw his +face! + +My father used to say that the great orders of God were correct +in this humility; for in its vast, comprehensive action, the +justice of God moved in a great plain, where every indicatory +event was precisely equal; a straw was a weaver's beam. + +God hailed men to ruin in his court, not with spectacular +devices, but by means of some homely, common thing, as though to +abase and overcome our pride. + +My father moved the sheets of foolscap, and tested the point of +the quill pen like one who considers with deliberation. He +dipped the point into the inkpot and slowly wrote a dozen formal +words. + +Then he stopped and put down the pen. + +"The contests of the courts," he said, "are usually on the +question of identity. I ought to see this slave for a correct +description." + +The two men seemed for a moment uncertain what to do. + +Then Zindorf addressed my father. + +"Pendleton," he said, "the fortunes of life change, and the ideas +suited to one status are ridiculous in another. Ordez was a +fool. He made believe to this girl a future that he never +intended, and she is under the glamor of these fancies." + +He stood in the posture of a monk, and he spoke each word with a +clear enunciation. + +"It is a very delicate affair, to bring this girl out of the +extravagances with which Ordez filled her idle head, and not be +brutal in it. We must conduct the thing with tact, and we will +ask you, Pendleton, to observe the courtesies of our pretension." + +When he had finished, he flung a door open and went down a +stairway. For a time my father heard his footsteps, echoing, +like those of a priest in the under chambers of a chapel. Then +he ascended, and my father was astonished. + +He came with a young girl on his arm, as in the ceremony of +marriage sometimes the priest emerges with the bride. The girl +was young and of a Spanish beauty. She was all in white with +blossoms in her hair. And she was radiant, my father said, as in +the glory of some happy contemplation. There was no slave like +this on the block in Virginia. Young girls like this, my father +had seen in Havana in the houses of Spanish Grandees. + +"This is Mr. Pendleton, our neighbor," Zindorf said. "He comes +to offer you his felicitations." + +The girl made a little formal curtsy. + +"When my father returns," she said in a queer, liquid accent, "he +will thank you, Meester Pendleton; just now he is on a journey." + +And she gave her hand to Lucian Morrow to kiss, like a lady of +the time. Then Zindorf, mincing his big step, led her out. + +And my father stood behind the table in the enclosure of the +window, with his arms folded, and his chin lifted above his great +black stock. I know how my father looked, for I have seen him +stand like that before moving factors in great events, when he +intended, at a certain cue, to enter. + +He said that it was at this point that Mr. Lucian Morrow's early +comment on Zindorf seemed, all at once, to discover the nature of +this whole affair. He said that suddenly, with a range of vision +like the great figures in the Pentateuch, he saw how things right +and true would work out backward into abominations, if, by any +chance, the virtue of God in events were displaced! + +Zindorf returned, and as he stepped through the door, closing it +behind him, the far-off tolling of the bell, faint, eerie, +carried by a stronger breath of April air, entered through the +window. My father extended his arm toward the distant wood. + +"Zindorf," he said, "do you mark the sign?" The man listened. + +"What sign?" he said. + +"The sign of death!" replied my father. + +The man made a deprecating gesture with his hands, "I do not +believe in signs," he said. + +My father replied like one corrected by a memory. + +"Why, yes," he said, "that is true. I should have remembered +that. You do not believe in signs, Zindorf, since you abandoned +the sign of the cross, and set these coarse patches on your knees +to remind you not to bend them in the sign of submission to the +King of Kings." + +The intent in the mended clothing was the economy of avarice, but +my father turned it to his use. + +The man's face clouded with anger. + +"What I believe," he said, "is neither the concern of you nor +another." + +He paused with an oath. + +"Whatever you may believe, Zindorf," replied my father, "the +sound of that bell is unquestionably a sign of death." He +pointed toward the distant wood. "In the edge of the forest +yonder is the ancient church that the people built to replace the +burned one here. It has been long abandoned, but in its +graveyard lie a few old families. And now and then, when an old +man dies, they bring him back to put him with his fathers. This +morning, as I came along, they were digging the grave for old +Adam Duncan, and the bell tolls for him. So you see," and he +looked Zindorf in the face, "a belief in signs is justified." + +Again the big man made his gesture as of one putting something of +no importance out of the way. + +"Believe what you like," he said, "I am not concerned with +signs." + +"Why, yes, Zindorf," replied my father, "of all men you are the +very one most concerned about them. You must be careful not to +use the wrong ones." + +It was a moment of peculiar tension. + +The room was flooded with sun. The tiny creatures of the air +droned outside. Everywhere was peace and the gentle benevolence +of peace. But within this room, split off from the great chamber +of a church, events covert and sinister seemed preparing to +assemble. + +My father, big and dominant, was behind the table, his great +shoulders blotting out the window; + +Mr. Lucian Morrow sat doubled in a chair, and Zindorf stood with +the closed door behind him. + +"You see, Zindorf," he said, "each master has his set of signs. +Most of us have learned the signs of one master only. But you +have learned the signs of both. And you must be careful not to +bring the signs of your first master into the service of your +last one." + +The big man did not move, he stood with the door closed behind +him, and studied my father's face like one who feels the presence +of a danger that he cannot locate. + +"What do you mean?" he said. + +"I mean," replied my father, "I mean, Zindorf, that each master +has a certain intent in events, and this intent is indicated by +his set of signs. Now the great purpose of these two masters, we +believe, in all the moving of events, is directly opposed. Thus, +when we use a sign of one of these masters, we express by the +symbol of it the hope that events will take the direction of his +established purpose. + +"Don't you see then . . . don't you see, that we dare not use the +signs of one in the service of the other?" + +"Pendleton," said the man, "I do not understand you." + +He spoke slowly and precisely, like one moving with an excess of +care. + +My father went on, his voice strong and level, his eyes on +Zindorf. + +"The thing is a great mystery," he said. "It is not clear to any +of us in its causes or its relations. But old legends and old +beliefs, running down from the very morning of the world, tell us +- warn us, Zindorf - that the signs of each of these masters are +abhorrent to the other. Neither will tolerate the use of his +adversary's sign. Moreover, Zindorf, there is a double peril in +it." + +And his voice rose. + +"There is the peril that the new master will abandon the +blunderer for the insult, and there is the peril that the old one +will destroy him for the sacrilege!" + +At this moment the door behind Zindorf opened, and the young girl +entered. She was excited and her eyes danced. + +"Oh!" she said, "people are coming on every road!" + +She looked, my father said, like a painted picture, her dark +Castilian beauty illumined by the pleasure in her interpretation +of events. She thought the countryside assembled after the +manner of my father to express its felicitations. + +Zindorf crossed in great strides to the window: Mr. Lucian +Morrow, sober and overwhelmed by the mystery of events about him, +got unsteadily on his feet, holding with both hands to the oak +back of a chair. + +My father said that the tragedy of the thing was on him, and he +acted under the pressure of it. + +"My child," he said, "you are to go to the house of your +grandfather in Havana. If Mr. Lucian Morrow wishes to renew his +suit for your hand in marriage, he will do it there. Go now and +make your preparations for the journey." + +The girl cried out in pleasure at the words. + +"My grandfather is a great person in New Spain. I have always +longed to see him . . . father promised . . . and now I am to go +. . . when do we set out, Meester Pendleton?" + +"At once," replied my father, "to-day." Then he crossed the room +and opened the door for her to go out. He held the latch until +the girl was down the stairway. Then he closed the door. + +The big man, falsely in his aspect, like a monk, looking out at +the far-off figures on the distant roads, now turned about. + +"A clever ruse, Pendleton," he said, "We can send her now, on +this pretended journey, to Morrow's house, after the sale." + +My father went over and sat down at the table. He took a faded +silk envelope out of his, coat, and laid it down before him. +Then he answered Zindorf. + +"There will be no sale," he said. + +Mr. Lucian Morrow interrupted. + +"And why no sale, Sir?" + +"Because there is no slave to sell," replied my father. "This +girl is not the daughter of the octoroon woman, Suzanne." + +Zindorf's big jaws tightened. + +"How did you know that?" he said. + +My father answered with deliberation. + +"I would have known it," he said, "from the wording of the paper +you exhibit from Marquette's executors. It is merely a release +of any claim or color of title; the sort of legal paper one +executes when one gives up a right or claim that one has no faith +in. Marquette's executors were the ablest lawyers in New +Orleans. They were not the men to sign away valuable property in +a conveyance like that; that they did sign such a paper is +conclusive evidence to me that they had nothing - and knew they +had nothing - to release by it." He paused. + +"I know it also," he said, "because I have before me here the +girl's certificate of birth and Ordez's certificate of marriage." + +He opened the silk envelope and took out some faded papers. He +unfolded them and spread them out under his hand. + +"I think Ordez feared for his child," he said, "and stored these +papers against the day of danger to her, because they are copies +taken from the records in Havana." + +He looked up at the astonished Morrow. + +"Ordez married the daughter of Pedro de Hernando. I find, by a +note to these papers, that she is dead. I conclude that this +great Spanish family objected to the adventurer, and he fled with +his infant daughter to New Orleans." he paused. + +"The intrigue with the octoroon woman, Suzanne, came after that." + +Then he added: + +"You must renew your negotiations, Sir, in, a somewhat different +manner before a Spanish Grandee in Havana!" + +Mr. Lucian Morrow did not reply. He stood in a sort of wonder. +But Zindorf, his face like iron, addressed my father: + +"Where did you get these papers, Pendleton?" he said. + +"I got them from Ordez," replied my father. + +"When did you see Ordez?" + +"I saw him to-day," replied my father. + +Zindorf did not move, but his big jaw worked and a faint spray of +moisture came out on his face. Then, finally, with no change or +quaver in his voice, he put his query. + +"Where is Ordez?" + +"Where?" echoed my father, and he rose. "Why, Zindorf, he is on +his way here." And he extended his arm toward the open window. +The big man lifted his head and looked out at the men and horses +now clearly visible on the distant road. + +"Who are these people," he said, "and why do they come?" He +spoke as though he addressed some present but invisible +authority. + +My father answered him + +"They are the people of Virginia," he said, "and they come, +Zindorf, in the purpose of events that you have turned terribly +backward!" + +The man was in some desperate perplexity, but he had steel nerves +and the devil's courage. + +He looked my father calmly in the face. + +"What does all this mean?" he said. + +"It means, Zindorf," cried my father, "it means that the very +things, the very particular things, that you ought to have used +for the glory of God, God has used for your damnation!" + +And again, in the clear April air, there entered through the open +window the faint tolling of a bell. + +"Listen, Zindorf! I will tell you. In the old abandoned church +yonder, when they came to toll the bell for Duncan, the rope fell +to pieces; I came along then, and Jacob Lance climbed into the +steeple to toll the bell by hand. At the first crash of sound a +wolf ran out of a thicket in the ravine below him, and fled away +toward the mountains. Lance, from his elevated point, could see +the wolf's muzzle was bloody. That would mean, that a lost horse +had been killed or an estray steer. He called down and we went +in to see what thing this scavenger had got hold of." + +He paused. + +"In the cut of an abandoned road we found the body of Ordez +riddled with buckshot, and his pockets rifled. But sewed up in +his coat was the silk envelope with these papers. I took +possession of them as a Justice of the Peace, ordered the body +sent on here, and the people to assemble." + +He extended his arm toward the faint, quivering, distant sound. + +"Listen, Zindorf," he cried; "the bell began to toll for Duncan, +but it tolls now for the murderer of Ordez. It tolls to raise +the country against the assassin!" + +The false monk had the courage of his master. He stood out and +faced my father. + +"But can you find him, Pendleton," he said. And his harsh voice +was firm. "You find Ordez dead; well, some assassin shot him and +carried his body into the cut of the abandoned road. But who was +that assassin? Is Virginia scant of murderers? Do you know the +right one?" + +My father answered in his great dominating voice + +"God knows him, Zindorf, and I know him! . . . The man who +murdered Ordez made a fatal blunder . . . He used a sign of God +in the service of the devil and he is ruined!" + +The big man stepped slowly backward into the room, while my +father's voice, filling the big empty spaces of the house, +followed after him. + +"You are lost, Zindorf! Satan is insulted, and God is outraged! +You are lost!" + +There was a moment's silence; from outside came the sound of men +and horses. The notes of the girl, light, happy, ascended from +the lower chamber, as she sang about her preparations for the +journey. Zindorf continued to step awfully backward. And +Lucian Morrow, shaken and sober, cried out in the extremity of +fear: + +"In God's name, Pendleton, what do you mean; Zindorf, using a +sign of God in the service of the devil." + +And my father answered him: + +"The corpse of Ordez lay in the bare cut of the abandoned road, +and beside it, bedded in the damp clay where he had knelt down to +rifle the pockets of the murdered body, were the patch prints of +Zindorf's knees!" + + + + + +VII. The Fortune Teller + + +Sir Henry Marquis continued to read; he made no comment; his +voice clear and even. + + +It was a big sunny room. The long windows looked out on a formal +garden, great beech trees and the bow of the river. Within it +was a sort of library. There were bookcases built into the wall, +to the height of a man's head, and at intervals between them, +rising from the floor to the cornice of the shelves, were rows of +mahogany drawers with glass knobs. There was also a flat writing +table. + +It was the room of a traveler, a man of letters, a dreamer. On +the table were an inkpot of carved jade, a paperknife of ivory +with gold butterflies set in; three bronze storks, with their +backs together, held an exquisite Japanese crystal. + +The room was in disorder - the drawers pulled out and the +contents ransacked. + +My father stood leaning against the casement of the window, +looking out. The lawyer, Mr. Lewis, sat in a chair beside the +table, his eyes on the violated room. + +"Pendleton," he said, "I don't like this English man Gosford." + +The words seemed to arouse my father out of the depths of some +reflection, and he turned to the lawyer, Mr. Lewis. + +"Gosford!" he echoed. + +"He is behind this business, Pendleton," the lawyer, Mr. Lewis, +went on. "Mark my word! He comes here when Marshall is dying; +he forces his way to the man's bed; he puts the servants out; he +locks the door. Now, what business had this Englishman with +Marshall on his deathbed? What business of a secrecy so close +that Marshall's son is barred out by a locked door?" + +He paused and twisted the seal ring on his finger. + +"When you and I came to visit the sick man, Gosford was always +here, as though he kept a watch upon us, and when we left, he +went always to this room to write his letters, as he said. + +"And more than this, Pendleton; Marshall is hardly in his grave +before Gosford writes me to inquire by what legal process the +dead man's papers may be examined for a will. And it is Gosford +who sends a negro riding, as if the devil were on the crupper, to +summon me in the name of the Commonwealth of Virginia, - to +appear and examine into the circumstances of this burglary. + +"I mistrust the man. He used to hang about Marshall in his life, +upon some enterprise of secrecy; and now he takes possession and +leadership in his affairs, and sets the man's son aside. In what +right, Pendleton, does this adventurous Englishman feel himself +secure?" + +My father did not reply to Lewis's discourse. His comment was in +another quarter. + +"Here is young Marshall and Gaeki," he said. + +The lawyer rose and came over to the window. + +Two persons were advancing from the direction of the stables - a +tall, delicate boy, and a strange old man. The old man walked +with a quick, jerky, stride. It was the old country doctor +Gaeki. And, unlike any other man of his profession, he would +work as long and as carefully on the body of a horse as he would +on the body of a man, snapping out his quaint oaths, and in a +stress of effort, as though he struggled with some invisible +creature for its prey. The negroes used to say that the devil +was afraid of Gaeki, and he might have been, if to disable a man +or his horse were the devil's will. But I think, rather, the +negroes imagined the devil to fear what they feared themselves. + +"Now, what could bring Gaeki here?" said Lewes. + +"It was the horse that Gosford overheated in his race to you," +replied my father. "I saw him stop in the road where the negro +boy was leading the horse about, and then call young Marshall." + +"It was no fault of young Marshall, Pendleton," said the lawyer. +"But, also, he is no match for Gosford. He is a dilettante. He +paints little pictures after the fashion he learned in Paris, and +he has no force or vigor in him. His father was a dreamer, a +wanderer, one who loved the world and its frivolities, and the +son takes that temperament, softened by his mother. He ought to +have a guardian." + +"He has one," replied my father. + +"A guardian!" repeated Lewis. "What court has appointed a +guardian for young Marshall?" + +"A court," replied my father, "that does not sit under the +authority of Virginia. The helpless, Lewis, in their youth and +inexperience, are not wholly given over to the spoiler." + +The boy they talked about was very young - under twenty, one +would say. He was blue-eyed and fair-haired, with thin, delicate +features, which showed good blood long inbred to the loss of +vigor. He had the fine, open, generous face of one who takes the +world as in a fairy story. But now there was care and anxiety in +it, and a furtive shadow, as though the lad's dream of life had +got some rude awakening. + +At this moment the door behind my father and Lewis was thrown +violently open, and a man entered. He was a person with the +manner of a barrister, precise and dapper; he had a long, pink +face, pale eyes, and a close-cropped beard that brought out the +hard lines of his mouth. He bustled to the table, put down a +sort of portfolio that held an inkpot, a writing-pad and pens, +and drew up a chair like one about to take the minutes of a +meeting. And all the while he apologized for his delay. He had +important letters to get off in the post, and to make sure, had +carried them to the tavern himself. + +"And now, sirs, let us get about this business," he finished, +like one who calls his assistants to a labor: + +My father turned about and looked at the man. + +"Is your name Gosford?" he said in his cold, level voice. + +"It is, sir," replied the Englishman, " - Anthony Gosford." + +"Well, Mr. Anthony Gosford," replied my father, "kindly close the +door that you have opened." + +Lewis plucked out his snuffbox and trumpeted in his many-colored +handkerchief to hide his laughter. + +The Englishman, thrown off his patronizing manner, hesitated, +closed the door as he was bidden - and could not regain his fine +air. + +"Now, Mr. Gosford," my father went on, "why was this room +violated as we see it?" + +"It was searched for Peyton Marshall's will, sir," replied the +man. + +"How did you know that Marshall had a will?" said my father. + +"I saw him write it," returned the Englishman, "here in this very +room, on the eighteenth day of October, 1854." + +"That was two years ago," said my father. "Was the will here at +Marshall's death?" + +"It was. He told me on his deathbed." + +"And it is gone now?" + +"It is," replied the Englishman. + +"And now, Mr. Gosford," said my father, "how do you know this +will is gone unless you also know precisely where it was?" + +"I do know precisely where it was, sir," returned the man. "It +was in the row of drawers on the right of the window where you +stand - the second drawer from the top. Mr. Marshall put it +there when he wrote it, and he told me on his deathbed that it +remained there. You can see, sir, that the drawer has been +rifled." + +My father looked casually at the row of mahogany drawers rising +along the end of the bookcase. The second one and the one above +were open; the others below were closed. + +"Mr. Gosford," he said, "you would have some interest in this +will, to know about it so precisely." + +"And so I have," replied the man, "it left me a sum of money." + +"A large sum?" + +"A very large sum, sir." + +"Mr. Anthony Gosford," said my father, "for what purpose did +Peyton Marshall bequeath you a large sum of money? You are no +kin; nor was he in your debt." + +The Englishman sat down and put his fingers together with a +judicial air. + +"Sir," he began, "I am not advised that the purpose of a bequest +is relevant, when the bequest is direct and unencumbered by the +testator with any indicatory words of trust or uses. This will +bequeathes me a sum of money. I am not required by any provision +of the law to show the reasons moving the testator. Doubtless, +Mr. Peyton Marshall had reasons which he deemed excellent for +this course, but they are, sir, entombed in the grave with him." + +My father looked steadily at the man, but he did not seem to +consider his explanation, nor to go any further on that line. + +"Is there another who would know about this will?" he said. + +"This effeminate son would know," replied Gosford, a sneer in the +epithet, "but no other. Marshall wrote the testament in his own +hand, without witnesses, as he had the legal right to do under +the laws of Virginia. The lawyer," he added, "Mr. Lewis, will +confirm me in the legality of that." + +"It is the law," said Lewis. "One may draw up a holograph will +if he likes, in his own hand, and it is valid without a witness +in this State, although the law does not so run in every +commonwealth." + +"And now, sir," continued the Englishman, turning to my father, +"we will inquire into the theft of this testament." + +But my father did not appear to notice Mr. Gosford. He seemed +perplexed and in some concern. + +"Lewis," he said, "what is your definition of a crime?" + +"It is a violation of the law," replied the lawyer. + +"I do not accept your definition," said my father. "It is, +rather, I think, a violation of justice - a violation of +something behind the law that makes an act a crime. I think," he +went on, "that God must take a broader view than Mr. Blackstone +and Lord Coke. I have seen a murder in the law that was, in +fact, only a kind of awful accident, and I have seen your +catalogue of crimes gone about by feeble men with no intent +except an adjustment of their rights. Their crimes, Lewis, were +merely errors of their impractical judgment." + +Then he seemed to remember that the Englishman was present. + +"And now, Mr. Gosford," he said, "will you kindly ask young +Marshall to come in here?" + +The man would have refused, with some rejoinder, but my father +was looking at him, and he could not find the courage to resist +my father's will. He got up and went out, and presently returned +followed by the lad and Gaeki. The old country doctor sat down +by the door, his leather case of bottles by the chair, his cloak +still fastened under his chin. Gosford went back to the table +and sat down with his writing materials to keep notes. The boy +stood. + +My father looked a long time at the lad. His face was grave, but +when he spoke, his voice was gentle. + +"My boy," he said, "I have had a good deal of experience in the +examination of the devil's work." He paused and indicated the +violated room. "It is often excellently done. His disciples are +extremely clever. One's ingenuity is often taxed to trace out +the evil design in it, and to stamp it as a false piece set into +the natural sequence of events." + +He paused again, and his big shoulders blotted out the window. + +"Every natural event," he continued, "is intimately connected +with innumerable events that precede and follow. It has so many +serrated points of contact with other events that the human mind +is not able to fit a false event so that no trace of the joinder +will appear. The most skilled workmen in the devil's shop are +only able to give their false piece a blurred joinder." + +He stopped and turned to the row of mahogany drawers beside him. + +"Now, my boy," he said, "can you tell me why the one who +ransacked this room, in opening and tumbling the contents of all +the drawers, about, did not open the two at the bottom of the row +where I stand?" + +"Because there was nothing in them of value, sir," replied the +lad. + +"What is in them?" said my father. + +"Only old letters, sir, written to my father, when I was in Paris +- nothing else." + +"And who would know that?" said my father. + +The boy went suddenly white. + +"Precisely!" said my father. "You alone knew it, and when you +undertook to give this library the appearance of a pillaged room, +you unconsciously endowed your imaginary robber with the thing +you knew yourself. Why search for loot in drawers that contained +only old letters? So your imaginary robber reasoned, knowing +what you knew. But a real robber, having no such knowledge, +would have ransacked them lest he miss the things of value that +he searched for." + +He paused, his eyes on the lad, his voice deep and gentle. + +"Where is the will?" he said. + +The white in the boy's face changed to scarlet. He looked a +moment about him in a sort of terror; then he lifted his head and +put back his shoulders. He crossed the room to a bookcase, took +down a volume, opened it and brought out a sheet of folded +foolscap. He stood up and faced my father and the men about the +room. + +"This man," he said, indicating Gosford, "has no right to take +all my father had. He persuaded my father and was trusted by +him. But I did not trust him. My father saw this plan in a +light that I did not see it, but I did not oppose him. If he +wished to use his fortune to help our country in the thing which +he thought he foresaw, I was willing for him to do it. + +"But," he cried, "somebody deceived me, and I will not believe +that it was my father. He told me all about this thing. I had +not the health to fight for our country, when the time came, he +said, and as he had no other son, our fortune must go to that +purpose in our stead. But my father was just. He said that a +portion would be set aside for me, and the remainder turned over +to Mr. Gosford. But this will gives all to Mr. Gosford and +leaves me nothing!" + +Then he came forward and put the paper in my father's hand. +There was silence except for the sharp voice of Mr. Gosford. + +"I think there will be a criminal proceeding here!" + +My father handed the paper to Lewis, who unfolded it and read it +aloud. It directed the estate of Peyton Marshall to be sold, the +sum of fifty thousand dollars paid to Anthony Gosford and the +remainder to the son. + +"But there will be no remainder," cried young Marshall. "My +father's estate is worth precisely that sum. He valued it very +carefully, item by item, and that is exactly the amount it came +to." + +"Nevertheless," said Lewis, "the will reads that way. It is in +legal form, written in Marshall's hand, and signed with his +signature, and sealed. Will you examine it, gentlemen? There +can be no question of the writing or the signature." + +My father took the paper and read it slowly, and old Gaeki nosed +it over my father's arm, his eyes searching the structure of each +word, while Mr. Gosford sat back comfortably in his chair like +one elevated to a victory. + +"It is in Marshall's hand and signature," said my father, and old +Gaeki, nodded, wrinkling his face under his shaggy eyebrows. He +went away still wagging his grizzled head, wrote a memorandum on +an envelope from his pocket, and sat down in, his chair. + +My father turned now to young Marshall. + +"My boy," he said, "why do you say that some one has deceived +you?" + +"Because, sir," replied the lad, "my father was to leave me +twenty thousand dollars. That was his plan. Thirty thousand +dollars should be set aside for Mr. Gosford, and the remainder +turned over to me." + +"That would be thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, instead of +fifty," said my father. + +"Yes, sir," replied the boy; "that is the way my father said he +would write his will. But it was not written that way. It is +fifty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, and the remainder to me. +If it were thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, as my father, +said his will would be, that would have left me twenty thousand +dollars from the estate; but giving Mr. Gosford fifty thousand +dollars leaves me nothing." + +"And so you adventured on a little larceny," sneered the +Englishman. + +The boy stood very straight and white. + +"I do not understand this thing," he said, "but I do not believe +that my father would deceive me. He never did deceive me in his +life. I may have been a disappointment to him, but my father +was a gentle man." His voice went up strong and clear. "And I +refuse to believe that he would tell me one thing and do +another!" + +One could not fail to be impressed, or to believe that the boy +spoke the truth. + +"We are sorry," said Lewis, "but the will is valid and we cannot +go behind it." + +My father walked about the room, his face in reflection. Gosford +sat at his ease, transcribing a note on his portfolio. Old Gaeki +had gone back to his chair and to his little case of bottles; he +got them up on his knees, as though he would be diverted by +fingering the tools of his profession. Lewis was in plain +distress, for he held the law and its disposition to be +inviolable; the boy stood with a find defiance, ennobled by the +trust in his father's honor. One could not take his stratagem +for a criminal act; he was only a child, for all his twenty years +of life. And yet Lewis saw the elements of crime, and he knew +that Gosford was writing down the evidence. + +It was my father who broke the silence. + +"Gosford," he said, "what scheme were you and Marshall about?" + +"You may wonder, sir," replied the Englishman, continuing to +write at his notes; "I shall not tell you." + +"But I will tell you," said the boy. "My father thought that the +states in this republic could not hold together very much longer. +He believed that the country would divide, and the South set up a +separate government. He hoped this might come about without a +war. He was in horror of a war. He had traveled; he had seen +nations and read their history, and he knew what civil wars were. +I have heard him say that men did not realize what they were +talking when they urged war." + +He paused and looked at Gosford. + +"My father was convinced that the South would finally set up an +independent government, but he hoped a war might not follow. He +believed that if this new government were immediately recognized +by Great Britain, the North would accept the inevitable and there +would be no bloodshed. My father went to England with this +scheme. He met Mr. Gosford somewhere - on the ship, I think. +And Mr. Gosford succeeded in convincing my father that if he had +a sum of money he could win over certain powerful persons in the +English Government, and so pave the way to an immediate +recognition of the Southern Republic by Great Britain. He +followed my father home and hung about him, and so finally got +his will. My father was careful; he wrote nothing; Mr. Gosford +wrote nothing; there is no evidence of this plan; but my father +told me, and it is true." + +My father stopped by the table and lifted his great shoulders. + +"And so," he said, "Peyton Marshall imagined a plan like that, +and left its execution to a Mr. Gosford!" + +The Englishman put down his pen and addressed my father. + +"I would advise you, sir, to require a little proof for your +conclusions. This is a very pretty story, but it is prefaced by +an admission of no evidence, and it comes as a special pleading +for a criminal act. Now, sir, if I chose, if the bequest +required it, I could give a further explanation, with more +substance; of moneys borrowed by the decedent in his travels and +to be returned to me. But the will, sir, stands for itself, as +Mr. Lewis will assure you." + +Young Marshall looked anxiously at the lawyer. + +"Is that the law, sir?" + +"It is the law of Virginia," said Lewis, "that a will by a +competent testator, drawn in form, requires no collateral +explanation to support it." + +My father seemed brought up in a cul-de-sac. His face was tense +and disturbed. He stood by the table; and now, as by accident, +he put out his hand and took up the Japanese crystal supported by +the necks of the three bronze storks. He appeared unconscious of +the act, for he was in deep reflection. Then, as though the +weight in his hand drew his attention, he glanced at the thing. +Something about it struck him, for his manner changed. He spread +the will out on the table and began to move the crystal over it, +his face close to the glass. Presently his hand stopped, and he +stood stooped over, staring into the Oriental crystal, like those +practicers of black art who predict events from what they pretend +to see in these spheres of glass. + +Mr. Gosford, sitting at his ease, in victory, regarded my father +with a supercilious, ironical smile. + +"Sir," he said, "are you, by chance, a fortuneteller?" + +"A misfortune-teller," replied my father, his face still held +above the crystal. "I see here a misfortune to Mr. Anthony +Gosford. I predict, from what I see, that he will release this +bequest of moneys to Peyton Marshall's son." + +"Your prediction, sir," said Gosford, in a harder note, "is not +likely to come true." + +"Why, yes," replied my father, "it is certain to come true. I +see it very clearly. Mr. Gosford will write out a release, under +his hand and seal, and go quietly out of Virginia, and Peyton +Marshall's son will take his entire estate." + +"Sir," said the Englishman, now provoked into a temper, "do you +enjoy this foolery?" + +"You are not interested in crystal-gazing, Mr. Gosford," replied +my father in a tranquil voice. "Well, I find it most diverting. +Permit me to piece out your fortune, or rather your misfortune, +Mr. Gosford! By chance you fell in with this dreamer Marshall, +wormed into his confidence, pretended a relation to great men in +England; followed and persuaded him until, in his ill-health, you +got this will. You saw it written two years ago. When Marshall +fell ill, you hurried here, learned from the dying man that the +will remained and where it was. You made sure by pretending to +write letters in this room, bringing your portfolio with ink and +pen and a pad of paper. Then, at Marshall's death, you inquired +of Lewis for legal measures to discover the dead man's will. And +when you find the room ransacked, you run after the law." + +My father paused. + +"That is your past, Mr. Gosford. Now let me tell your future. I +see you in joy at the recovered will. I see you pleased at your +foresight in getting a direct bequest, and at the care you urged +on Marshall to leave no evidence of his plan, lest the +authorities discover it. For I see, Mr. Gosford, that it was +your intention all along to keep this sum of money for your own +use and pleasure. But alas, Mr. Gosford, it was not to be! I +see you writing this release; and Mr. Gosford" - my father's +voice went up full and strong, - "I see you writing it in +terror - sweat on your face!" + +"The Devil take your nonsense!" cried the Englishman. + +My father stood up with a twisted, ironical smile. + +"If you doubt my skill, Mr. Gosford, as a fortune, or rather a +misfortune-teller I will ask Mr. Lewis and Herman Gaeki to tell +me what they see." + +The two men crossed the room and stooped over the paper, while my +father held the crystal. The manner and the bearing of the men +changed. They grew on the instant tense and fired with interest. + +"I see it!" said the old doctor, with a queer foreign expletive. + +"And I," cried Lewis, "see something more than Pendleton's +vision. I see the penitentiary in the distance." + +The Englishman sprang up with an oath and leaned across the +table. Then he saw the thing. + +"My father's hand held the crystal above the figures of the +bequest written in the body of the will. The focused lens of +glass magnified to a great diameter, and under the vast +enlargement a thing that would escape the eye stood out. The top +curl of a figure 3 had been erased, and the bar of a 5 added. +One could see the broken fibers of the paper on the outline of +the curl, and the bar of the five lay across the top of the three +and the top of the o behind it like a black lath tacked across +two uprights. + +The figure 3 had been changed to 5 so cunningly is to deceive the +eye, but not to deceive the vast magnification of the crystal. +The thing stood out big and crude like a carpenter's patch. + +Gosford's face became expressionless like wood, his body rigid; +then he stood up and faced the three men across the table. + +"Quite so!" he said in his vacuous English voice. "Marshall +wrote a 3 by inadvertence and changed it. He borrowed my +penknife to erase the figure." + +My father and Lewis gaped like men who see a penned-in beast slip +out through an unimagined passage. There was silence. Then +suddenly, in the strained stillness of the room, old Doctor Gaeki +laughed. + +Gosford lifted his long pink face, with its cropped beard +bringing out the ugly mouth. + +"Why do you laugh, my good man?" he said. + +"I laugh," replied Gaeki, "because a figure 5 can have so many +colors." + +And now my father and Lewis were no less astonished than Mr. +Gosford. + +"Colors!" they said, for the changed figure in the will was +black. + +"Why, yes," replied the old man, "it is very pretty." + +He reached across the table and drew over Mr. Gosford's +memorandum beside the will. + +"You are progressive, sir," he went on; "you write in +iron-nutgall ink, just made, commercially, in this year of +fifty-six by Mr. Stephens. But we write here as Marshall wrote +in 'fifty-four, with logwood." + +He turned and fumbled in his little case of bottles. + +"I carry a bit of acid for my people's indigestions. It has +other uses." He whipped out the stopper of his vial and dabbed +Gosford's notes and Marshall's signature. + +"See!" he cried. "Your writing is blue, Mr. Gosford, and +Marshall's red!" + +With an oath the trapped man struck at Gaeki's hand. The vial +fell and cracked on the table. The hydrochloric acid spread out +over Marshall's will. And under the chemical reagent the figure +in the bequest of fifty thousand dollars changed beautifully; the +bar of the 5 turned blue, and the remainder of it a deep +purple-red like the body of the will. + +"Gaeki," cried my father, "you have trapped a rogue!" + +"And I have lost a measure of good acid," replied the old man. +And he began to gather up the bits of his broken bottle from the +table. + + + + +VIII. The Hole in the Mahogany Panel + + +Sir Henry paused a moment, his finger between the pages of the +ancient diary. + +"It is the inspirational quality in these cases" he said, "that +impresses me. It is very nearly absent in our modern methods of +criminal investigation. We depend now on a certain formal +routine. I rarely find a man in the whole of Scotland Yard with +a trace of intuitive impulse to lead him . . . . Observe how +this old justice in Virginia bridged the gaps between his +incidents." + +He paused. + +"We call it the inspirational instinct, in criminal investigation +. . . genius, is the right word." + +He looked up at the clock. + +"We have an hour, yet, before the opera will be worth hearing; +listen to this final case." + +The narrative of the diary follows: + +The girl was walking in the road. Her frock was covered with +dust. Her arms hung limp. Her face with the great eyes and the +exquisite mouth was the chalk face of a ghost. She walked with +the terrible stiffened celerity of a human creature when it is +trapped and ruined. + +Night was coming on. Behind the girl sat the great old house at +the end of a long lane of ancient poplars. + +This was a strange scene my father came on. He pulled up his big +red-roan horse at the crossroads, where the long lane entered the +turnpike, and looked at the stiff, tragic figure. He rode home +from a sitting of the county justices, alone, at peace, on this +midsummer night, and God sent this tragic thing to meet him. + +He got down and stood under the crossroads signboard beside his +horse. + +The earth was dry; in dust. The dead grass and the dead leaves +made a sere, yellow world. It looked like a land of unending +summer, but a breath of chill came out of the hollows with the +sunset. + +The girl would have gone on, oblivious. But my father went down +into the road and took her by the arm. She stopped when she saw +who it was, and spoke in the dead, uninflected voice of a person +in extremity. + +"Is the thing a lie?" she said. + +"What thing, child?" replied my father. + +"The thing he told me!" + +"Dillworth?" said my father. "Do you mean Hambleton Dillworth?" + +The girl put out her free arm in a stiff, circling gesture. "In +all the world," she said, "is there any other man who would have +told me?" + +My father's face hardened as if of metal. "What did he tell +you?" + +The girl spoke plainly, frankly, in her dead voice, without +equivocation, with no choice of words to soften what she said: + +"He said that my father was not dead; that I was the daughter of +a thief; that what I believed about my father was all made up to +save the family name; that the truth was my father robbed him, +stole his best horse and left the country when I was a baby. He +said I was a burden on him, a pensioner, a drone; and to go and +seek my father." + +And suddenly she broke into a flood of tears. Her face pressed +against my father's shoulder. He took her up in his big arms and +got into his saddle. + +"My child," he said, "let us take Hambleton Dillworth at his +word." + +And he turned the horse into the lane toward the ancient house. +The girl in my father's arms made no resistance. There was this +dominating quality in the man that one trusted to him and +followed behind him. She lay in his arms, the tears wetting her +white face and the long lashes. + +The moon came up, a great golden moon, shouldered over the rim of +the world by the backs of the crooked elves. The horse and the +two persons made a black, distorted shadow that jerked along as +though it were a thing evil and persistent. Far off in the +thickets of the hills an owl cried, eerie and weird like a +creature in some bitter sorrow. The lane was deep with dust. The +horse traveled with no sound, and the distorted black shadow +followed, now blotted out by the heavy tree tops, and now only +partly to be seen, but always there. + +My father got down at the door and carried the girl up the steps +and between the plaster pillars into the house. There was a hall +paneled in white wood and with mahogany doors. He opened one of +these doors and went in. The room he entered had been splendid +in some ancient time. It was big; the pieces in it were +exquisite; great mirrors and old portraits were on the wall. + +A man sitting behind a table got up when my father entered. Four +tallow candles, in ancient silver sticks, were on the table, and +some sheets with figured accounts. + +The man who got up was like some strange old child. He wore a +number of little capes to hide his humped back, and his body, one +thought, under his clothes was strapped together. He got on his +feet nimbly like a spider, and they heard the click of a pistol +lock as he whipped the weapon out of an open drawer, as though it +were a habit thus always to keep a weapon at his hand to make him +equal in stature with other men. Then he saw who it was and the +double-barreled pistol slipped out of sight. He was startled and +apprehensive, but he was not in fear. + +He stood motionless behind the table, his head up, his eyes hard, +his thin mouth closed like a trap and his long, dead black hair +hanging on each side of his lank face over the huge, malformed +ears. The man stood thus, unmoving, silent, with his twisted +ironical smile, while my father put the girl into a chair and +stood up behind it. + +"Dillworth," said my father, "what do you mean by turning this +child out of the house?" + +The man looked steadily at the two persons before him. + +"Pendleton," he said, and he spoke precisely, "I do not recognize +the right of you, or any other man, to call my acts into account; +however" - and he made a curious gesture with his extended hands +"not at your command, but at my pleasure, I will tell you. + +"This young woman had some estate from her mother at that lady's +death. As her guardian I invested it by permission of the +court's decree." He paused. "When the Maxwell lands were sold +before the courthouse I bid them in for my ward. The judge +confirmed this use of the guardian funds. It was done upon +advice of counsel and within the letter of the law. Now it +appears that Maxwell had only a life interest in these lands; +Maxwell is dead, and one who has purchased the interest of his +heirs sues in the courts for this estate. + +"This new claimant will recover; since one who buys at a judicial +sale, I find, buys under the doctrine of caveat emptor - that is +to say, at his peril. He takes his chance upon the title. The +court does not insure it. If it is defective he loses both the +money and the lands. And so," he added, "my ward will have no +income to support her, and I decline to assume that burden." + +My father looked the hunchback in the face. "Who is the man +bringing this suit at law?" + +"A Mr. Henderson, I believe," replied Dillworth, "from Maryland." + +"Do you know him?" said my father. + +"I never heard of him," replied the hunchback. + +The girl, huddled in the chair, interrupted. "I have seen +letters," she said, "come in here with this man's return address +at Baltimore written on the envelope." + +The hunchback made an irrelevant gesture. "The man wrote - to +inquire if I would buy his title. I declined." Then he turned +to my father. "Pendleton," he said, "you know about this matter. +You know that every step I took was legal. And with pains and +care how I got an order out of chancery to make this purchase, +and how careful I was to have this guardianship investment +confirmed by the court. No affair was ever done so exactly +within the law." + +"Why were you so extremely careful?" said my father. + +"Because I wanted the safeguard of the law about me at every +step," replied the man. + +"But why?" + +"You ask me that, Pendleton?"' cried the man. "Is not the wisdom +of my precautions evident? I took them to prevent this very +thing; to protect myself when this thing should happen!" + +"Then," said my father, "you knew it was going to happen." + +The man's eyes slipped about a moment in his head. "I knew it +was going to happen that I would be charged with all sorts of +crimes and misdemeanors if there should be any hooks on which to +hang them. Because a man locks his door is it proof that he +knows a robber is on the way? Human foresight and the experience +of men move prudent persons to a reasonable precaution in the +conduct of affairs." + +"And what is it," said my father, "that moves them to an +excessive caution?" + +The hunchback snapped his fingers with an exasperated gesture. +"I will not be annoyed by your big, dominating manner!" he cried. + +My father was not concerned by this defiance. "Dillworth," he +said, "you sent this child out to seek her father. Well, she +took the right road to find him." + +The hunchback stepped back quickly, his face changed. He sat +down in his chair and looked up at my father. There was here +suddenly uncovered something that he had not looked for. And he +talked to gain time. + +"I have cast up the accounts in proper form," he said while he +studied my father, his hand moving the figured sheets. "They are +correct and settled before two commissioners in chancery. Taking +out my commission as guardian, the amounts allowed me for the +maintenance and education of the ward, and no dollar of this +personal estate remains." + +His long, thin hand with the nimble fingers turned the sheets +over on the table as though to conclude that phase of the affair. + +"The real property," he continued, "will return nothing; the +purchase money was applied on Maxwell's debts and cannot be +followed. This new claimant, Henderson, who has bought up the +outstanding title, will take the land." + +"For some trifling sum," said my father. + +The hunchback nodded slowly, his eyes in a study of my father's +face. + +"Doubtless," he said, "it was not known that Maxwell had only a +life estate in the lands, and the remainder to the heirs was +likely purchased for some slight amount. The language of the +deeds that Henderson exhibits in his suit shows a transfer of all +claim or title, as though he bought a thing which the grantees +thought lay with the uncertainties of a decree in chancery." + +"I have seen the deeds," said my father. + +"Then," said the hunchback, "you know they are valid, and +transfer the title." He paused. "I have no doubt that Mr. +Henderson assembled these outstanding interests at no great cost, +but his conveyances are in form and legal." + +"Everything connected with this affair," said my father, "is +strangely legal!" + +The hunchback considered my father through his narrow eyelids. + +"It is a strange world," he said. + +"It is," replied my father. "It is profoundly, inconceivably +strange." + +There was a moment of silence. The two men regarded each other +across the half-length of the room. The girl sat in the chair. +She had got back her courage. The big, forceful presence of my +father, like the shadow of a great rock, was there behind her. +She had the fine courage of her blood, and, after the first cruel +shock of this affair, she faced the tragedies that might lie +within it calmly. + +Shadows lay along the walls of the great room, along the gilt +frames of the portraits, the empty fireplace, the rosewood +furniture of ancient make and the oak floor. Only the hunchback +was in the light, behind the four candles on the table. + +"It was strange," continued my father over the long pause, "that +your father's will discovered at his death left his lands to you, +and no acre to your brother David." + +"Not strange," replied the hunchback, "when you consider what my +brother David proved to be. My father knew him. What was hidden +from us, what the world got no hint of, what the man was in the +deep and secret places of his heart, my father knew. Was it +strange, then, that he should leave the lands to me?" + +"It was a will drawn by an old man in his senility, and under +your control." + +"Under my care," cried the hunchback. "I will plead guilty, if +you like, to that. I honored my father. I was beside his bed +with loving-kindness, while my brother went about the pleasures +of his life." + +"But the testament," said my father, "was in strange terms. It +bequeathed the lands to you, with no mention of the personal +property, as though these lands were all the estate your father +had." + +"And so they were," replied the hunchback calmly. "The lands had +been stripped of horse and steer, and every personal item, and +every dollar in hand or debt owing to my father before his +death." The, man paused and put the tips of his fingers +together. "My father had given to my brother so much money from +these sources, from time to time, that he justly left me the +lands to make us even." + +"Your father was senile and for five years in his bed. It was +you, Dillworth, who cleaned the estate of everything but land." + +"I conducted my father's business," said the hunchback, "for him, +since he was ill. But I put the moneys from these sales into his +hand and he gave them to my brother." + +"I have never heard that your brother David got a dollar of this +money." + +The hunchback was undisturbed. + +"It was a family matter and not likely to be known." + +"I see it," said my father. "It was managed in your legal manner +and with cunning foresight. You took the lands only in the will, +leaving the impression to go out that your brother had already +received his share in the personal estate by advancement. It was +shrewdly done. But there remained one peril in it: If any +personal property should appear under the law you would be +required to share it equally with your brother David." + +"Or rather," replied the hunchback calmly, "to state the thing +correctly, my brother David would be required to share any +discovered personal property with me." Then he added: "I gave my +brother David a hundred dollars for his share in the folderol +about the premises, and took possession of the house and lands." + +"And after that," said my father, "what happened?" + +The hunchback uttered a queerly inflected expletive, like a +bitter laugh. + +"After that," he answered, "we saw the real man in my brother +David, as my father, old and dying, had so clearly seen it. +After that he turned thief and fugitive." + +At the words the girl in the chair before my father rose. She +stood beside him, her lithe figure firm, her chin up, her hair +spun darkness. The courage, the fine, open, defiant courage of +the first women of the world, coming with the patriarchs out of +Asia, was in her lifted face. My father moved as though he would +stop the hunchback's cruel speech. But she put her fingers +firmly on his arm. + +"He has gone so far," she said, "let him go on to the end. Let +him omit no word, let us hear every ugly thing the creature has +to say." + +Dillworth sat back in his chair at ease, with a supercilious +smile. He passed the girl and addressed my father. + +"You will recall the details of that robbery," he said in his +complacent, piping voice. "My brother David had married a wife, +like the guest invited in the Scriptures. A child was born. My +brother lived with his wife's people in their house. One night +he came to me to borrow money." + +He paused and pointed his long index finger through the doorway +and across the hall. + +"It was in my father's room that I received him. It did not +please me to put money into his hands. But I admonished him with +wise counsel. He did not receive my words with a proper +brotherly regard. He flared up in unmanageable anger. He damned +me with reproaches, said I had stolen his inheritance, poisoned +his father's mind against him and slipped into the house and +lands. `Pretentious and perfidious' is what he called me. I was +firm and gentle. But he grew violent and a thing happened." + +The man put up his hand and moved it along in the air above the +table. + +"There was a secretary beside the hearth in my father's room. +It was an old piece with drawers below and glass doors above. +These doors had not been opened for many years, for there was +nothing on the shelves behind them - one could see that - except +some rows of the little wooden boxes that indigo used to be sold +in at the country stores." + +The hunchback paused as though to get the details of his story +precisely in relation. + +"I sat at my father's table in the middle of the room. My +brother David was a great, tall man, like Saul. In his anger, as +he gesticulated by the hearth, his elbow crashed through the +glass door of this secretary; the indigo boxes fell, burst open +on the floor, and a hidden store of my father's money was +revealed. The wooden boxes were full of gold pieces!" + +He stopped and passed his fingers over his projecting chin. + +"I was in fear, for I was alone in the house. Every negro was at +a distant frolic. And I was justified in that fear. My brother +leaped on me, struck me a stunning blow on the chest over the +heart, gathered up the gold, took my horse and fled. At daybreak +the negroes found me on the floor, unconscious. Then you came, +Pendleton. The negroes had washed up the litter from the hearth +where the indigo about the coins in the boxes had been shaken +out." + +My father interrupted: + +"The negroes said the floor had been scrubbed when they found +you." + +"They were drunk," continued the hunchback with no concern. +"And, does one hold a drunken negro to his fact? But you saw for +yourself the wooden boxes, round, three inches high, with tin +lids, and of a diameter to hold a stack of golden eagles, and you +saw the indigo still sticking about the sides of these boxes +where the coins had lain." + +"I did," replied my father. "I observed it carefully, for I +thought the gold pieces might turn up sometime, and the blue +indigo stain might be on them when they first appeared." + +Dillworth leaned far back in his chair, his legs tangled under +him, his eyes on my father, in reflection. Finally he spoke. + +"You are far-sighted," he said. + +"Or God is," replied my father, and, stepping over to the table, +he spun a gold piece on the polished surface of the mahogany +board. + +The hunchback watched the yellow disk turn and flit and wabble on +its base and flutter down with its tingling reverberations. + +"To-day, when I rode into the county seat to a sitting of the +justices," continued my father, "the sheriff showed me some gold +eagles that your man from Maryland, Mr. Henderson, had paid in on +court costs. Look, Dillworth, there is one of them, and with +your thumb nail on the milled edge you can scrape off the +indigo!" + +The hunchback looked at the spinning coin, but he did not touch +it. His head, with its long, straight hair, swung a moment +uncertain between his shoulders. Then, swiftly and with a firm +grip, he took his resolution. + +"The coins appear," he said. "My brother David must be in +Baltimore behind this suit." + +"He is not in Baltimore," said my father. + +"Perhaps you know where he is," cried the hunchback, "since you +speak with such authority." + +"I do know where he is," said my father in his deep, level voice. + +The hunchback got on his feet slowly beside his chair. And the +girl came into the protection of my father's arm, her features +white like plaster; but the fiber in her blood was good and she +stood up to face the thing that might be coming. After the one +long abandonment to tears in my father's saddle she had got +herself in hand. She had gone, like the princes of the blood, +through the fire, and the dross of weakness was burned out. + +The hunchback got on his feet, in position like a duelist, his +hard, bitter face turned slantwise toward my father. + +"Then," he said, "if you know where David is you will take his +daughter to him, if you please, and rid my house of the burden of +her." + +"We shall go to him," said my father slowly, "but he shall not +return to us." + +The hunchback's eyes blinked and bated in the candlelight. + +"You quote the Scriptures," he said. "Is David in a grave?" + +"He is not," replied my father. + +The hunchback seemed to advance like a duelist who parries the +first thrust of his opponent. But my father met him with an even +voice. + +"Dillworth," he said, "it was strange that no man ever saw your +brother or the horse after the night he visited you in this +house." + +"It was dark," replied the man. "He rode from this door through +the gap in the mountains into Maryland." + +"He rode from this door," said my father slowly, "but not through +the gap in the mountains into Maryland." + +The hunchback began to twist his fingers. + +"Where did he ride then? A man and a horse could not vanish." + +"They did vanish," said my father. + +"Now you utter fool talk!" cried Dillworth. + +"I speak the living truth," replied my father. "Your brother +David and your horse disappeared out of sound and hearing - +disappeared out of the sight and knowledge of men - after he rode +away from your door on that fatal night." + +"Well," said the hunchback, "since my brother David rode away +from my door - and you know that - I am free of obligation for +him." + +"It is Cain's speech!" replied my father. + +The hunchback put back his long hair with a swift brush of the +fingers across his forehead. + +"Dillworth," cried my father, and his voice filled the empty +places of the room, "is the mark there?" + +The hunchback began to curse. He walked around my father and the +girl, the hair about his lank jaws, his fingers working, his face +evil. In his front and menace he was like a weasel that would +attack some larger creature. And while he made the great turn of +his circle my father, with his arm about the girl, stepped before +the drawer of the table where the pistol lay. + +"Dillworth," he said calmly, "I know where he is. And the mark +you felt for just now ought to be there." + +"Fool!" cried the hunchback. "If I killed him how could he ride +away from the door?" + +"It was a thing that puzzled me," replied my father, "when I +stood in this house on the morning of your pretended robbery. I +knew what had happened. But I thought it wiser to let the evil +thing remain a mystery, rather than unearth it to foul your +family name and connect this child in gossip for all her days +with a crime." + +"With a thief," snarled the man. + +"With a greater criminal than a thief," replied My father. "I +was not certain about this gold on that morning when you showed +me the empty boxes. They were too few to hold gold enough for +such a motive. I thought a quarrel and violent hot blood were +behind the thing; and for that reason I have been silent. But +now, when the coins turn up, I see that the thing was all +ruthless, cold-blooded love of money. + +"I know what happened in that room. When your brother David +struck the old secretary with his elbow, and the dozen indigo +boxes fell and burst open on the hearth, you thought a great +hidden treasure was uncovered. You thought swiftly. You had got +the land by undue influence on your senile father, and you did +not have to share that with your brother David. But here was a +treasure you must share; you saw it in a flash. You sat at your +father's table in the room. Your brother stood by the wall +looking at the hearth. And you acted then, on the moment, with +the quickness of the Evil One. It was cunning in you to select +the body over the heart as the place to receive the imagined blow +- the head or face would require some evidential mark to affirm +your word. And it was cunning to think of the unconscious, for +in that part one could get up and scrub the hearth and lie down +again to play it." + +He paused. + +"But the other thing you did in that room was not so clever. A +picture was newly hung on the wall - I saw the white square on +the opposite wall from which it had been taken. It hung at the +height of a man's shoulders directly behind the spot where your +brother must have stood after he struck the secretary, and it +hung in this new spot to cover the crash of a bullet into the +mahogany panel!" + +My father stopped and caught up the hunchback's double-barreled +pistol out of the empty drawer. + +The room was now illumined; the moon had got above the tree tops +and its light slanted in through the long windows. The hunchback +saw the thing and he paused; his face worked in the fantastic +light. + +"Yes," continued my father, in his deep, quiet voice, "this is +your mistake to-night - to let me get your weapon. Your mistake +that other night was to shoot before you counted the money. It +was only a few hundred dollars. The dozen wooden boxes would +hold no great sum. But the thing was done, and you must cover +it." + +He paused. + +"And you did cover it - with fiendish cunning. It would not do +for your brother to vanish from your house, alone and with no +motive. But if he disappeared, with the gold to take him and a +horse to ride, the explanation would have solid feet to go on. I +give you credit here for the ingenuity of Satan. You managed the +thing. You caused your brother David and the horse to vanish. I +saw, on that morning, the tracks of the horse where you led him +from the stable to the door, and his tracks where you led him, +holding the dead man in the saddle, from the door to the ancient +orchard where the grass grows over the fallen-down chimney of +your grandsire's house. And there, at your cunning, they wholly +vanished." + +The mad courage in the hunchback got control, and he began to +advance on my father with no weapon and with no hope to win. His +fingers crooked, his body in a bow, his wizen, cruel face pallid +in the ghostly light. + +"Dillworth," cried my father, in a great voice, like one who +would startle a creature out of mania, "you will write a deed in +your legal manner granting these lands to your brother's child. +And after that" - his words were like the blows of a hammer on an +anvil - "I will give you until daybreak to vanish out of our +sight and hearing - through the gap in the mountains into +Maryland on your horse, as you say your brother David went, or +into the abandoned cistern in the ancient orchard where he lies +under the horse that you shot and tumbled in on his murdered +body!" + +The moon was now above the gable of the house. The candles were +burned down. They guttered around the sheet of foolscap wet with +the scrawls and splashes of Dillworth's quill. My father stood +at a window looking out, the girl in a flood of tears, relaxed +and helpless, in the protection of his arm. + +And far down the long turnpike, white like an expanded ribbon, +the hunchback rode his great horse in a gallop, perched like a +monkey, his knees doubled, his head bobbing, his loose body +rolling in the saddle - while the black, distorted shadow that +had followed my father into this tragic house went on before him +like some infernal messenger convoying the rider to the Pit. + + + + +IX. The End of the Road + + +The man laughed. + +It was a faint cynical murmur of a laugh. Its expression hardly +disturbed the composition of his features. + +"I fear, Lady Muriel," he said, "that your profession is ruined. +Our friend - `over the water' - is no longer concerned about the +affairs of England." + +The woman fingered at her gloves, turning them back about the +wrists. Her face was anxious and drawn. + +"I am rather desperately in need of money," she said. + +The cynicism deepened in the man's face. + +"Unfortunately," he replied, "a supply of money cannot be +influenced by the intensity of one's necessity for it." + +He was a man indefinite in age. His oily black hair was brushed +carefully back. His clothes were excellent, with a precise +detail. Everything about him was conspicuously correct in the +English fashion. But the man was not English. One could not say +from what race he came. Among the races of Southern Europe he +could hardly have been distinguished. There was a chameleon +quality strongly dominant in the creature. + +The woman looked up quickly, as in a strong aversion. + +"What shall you do?" she said. + +"I?" + +The man glanced about the room. There was a certain display +within the sweep of his vision. Some rugs of great value, vases +and bronzes; genuine and of extreme age. He made a careless +gesture with his hands. + +"I shall explore some ruins in Syria, and perhaps the aqueduct +which the French think carried a water supply to the Carthage of +Hanno. It will be convenient to be beyond British inquiry for +some years to come; and after all, I am an antiquarian, like +Prosper Merimee." + +Lady Muriel continued to finger her gloves. They had been +cleaned and the cryptic marks of the shopkeeper were visible +along the inner side of the wrist hem. This was, to the woman, +the first subterfuge of decaying smartness. When a woman began +to send her gloves to the laundry she was on her way down. Other +evidences were not entirely lacking in the woman's dress, but +they were not patent to the casual eye. Lady Muriel was still, +to the observer, of the gay top current in the London world. + +The woman followed the man's glance about the room. + +"You must be rich, Hecklemeir," she said. "Lend me a hundred +pounds." + +The man laughed again in his queer chuckle. + +"Ah, no, my Lady," he replied, "I do not lend." Then he added. + +"If you have anything of value, bring it to me . . . . not +information from the ministry, and not war plans; the trade in +such commodities is ended." + +It was the woman's turn to laugh. + +"The shopkeepers in Oxford Street have been before you, Baron . . +. . I've nothing to sell." + +Hecklemeir smiled, kneading his pudgy hands. + +"It will be hard to borrow," he said. "Money is very dear to the +Britisher just now - right against his heart . . . . Still. . . . +perhaps one's family could be thumb screwed. . . . . .An elderly +relative with no children would be the most favorable, I think. +Have you got such a relative concealed somewhere in a nook of +London? Think about it. If you could recall one, he would be +like a buried nut." + +The man paused; then he added, with the offensive chuckling +laugh: + +"Go to such an one, Lady Muriel. Who shall turn aside from +virtue in distress? Perhaps, in the whole of London, I alone +have the brutality - shall we call it - to resist that +spectacle." + +The woman rose. Her face was now flushed and angry. + +"I do not know of any form of brutality in which you do not +excel, Hecklemeir," she said. "I have a notion to, go to +Scotland Yard with the whole story of your secret traffic." + +The man continued to smile. + +"Alas, my Lady," he replied, "we are coupled together. Scotland +Yard would hardly separate us . . . . you could scarcely manage +to drown me and, keep afloat yourself. Dismiss the notion; it is +from the pit." + +There was no virtue in her threat as the woman knew. Already her +mind was on the way that Hecklemeir had ironically suggested - an +elderly relative, with no children, from whom one might borrow, - +she valued the ramifications of her family, running out to the +remote, withered branches of that noble tree. She appraised the +individuals and rejected them. + +Finally her searching paused. + +There was her father's brother who had gone in for science - +deciding against the army and the church - Professor Bramwell +Winton, the biologist. He lived somewhere toward Covent Garden. + +She had not thought of him for years. Occasionally his name +appeared in some note issued by the museum, or a college at +Oxford. + +For almost four years she had been relieved of this thought about +one's family. The one "over the water" for whom Hecklemeir had +stolen the Scottish toast to designate, had paid lavishly for +what she could find out. + +She had been richly, for these four years, in funds. + +The habit was established of dipping her hand into the dish. And +now to find the dish empty appalled her. She could not believe +that it was empty. She had come again, and again to this +apartment above the shops in Regent Street, selected for its +safety of ingress; a modiste and a hairdresser on either side of +a narrow flight of steps. + +A carriage could stop here; one could be seen here. + +Even on the right, above, at the landing of the flight of steps +Nance Coleen altered evening gowns with the skill of one altering +the plumage of the angels. It must have cost the one "over the +water" a pretty penny to keep this whole establishment running +through four years of war. + +She spoke finally. + +"Have you a directory of London, Hecklemeir?" + +The man had been watching her closely. + +"If it is Scotland Yard, my Lady," he said, "you will not require +a direction. I can give you the address. It is on the +Embankment, near . . . " + +"Don't be a fool, Hecklemeir," she interrupted, and taking the +book from his hands, she whipped through the pages, got the +address she sought, and went out onto the narrow landing and down +the steps into Regent Street: + +She took a hansom. + +With some concern she examined the contents of her purse. There +was a guinea, a half crown and some shillings in it - the dust of +the bin. And her profession, as Hecklemeir had said, was ended. + +She leaned over, like a man, resting her arms on the closed +doors. + +The future looked troublous. Money was the blood current in the +life she knew. It was the vital element. It must be got. + +And thus far she had been lucky. + +Even in this necessity Bramwell Winton had emerged, when she +could not think of any one. He would not have much. These +scientific creatures never accumulated money, but he would have a +hundred pounds. He had no wife or children to scatter the +shillings of his income. + +True these creatures spent a good deal on the absurd rubbish of +their hobbies. But they got money sometimes, not by thrift but +by a sort of chance. Had not one of them, Sir Isaac Martin, +found the lost mines from which the ancient civilization of Syria +drew its supply of copper. And Hector Bartlett, little more than +a mummy in the Museum, had gone one fine day into Asia and dug up +the gold plates that had roofed a temple of the Sun. + +He had been shown in the drawing rooms, on his return, and she +had stopped a moment to look him over - he was a sort of mummy. +She was not hoping to find Bramwell Winton one of these elect. +But he was a hive that had not been plundered. + +She reflected, sitting bent forward in the hansom, her face +determined and unchanging. She did not undertake to go forward +beyond the hundred pounds. Something would turn up. She was +lucky . . . others had gone to the tower; gone before the firing +squad for lesser activities in what Hecklemeir called her +profession, but she had floated through . . . carrying what she +gleaned to the paymaster. Was it skill, or was she a child of +Fortune? + +And like every gambler, like every adventurer in a life of +hazard, she determined for the favorite of some immense Fatality. + +It was an old house she came to, built in the prehistoric age of +London, with thick, heavy walls, one of a row, deadly in its +monotony. The row was only partly tenanted. + +She dismissed the hansom and got out. + +It was a moment before she found the number. The houses +adjoining on either side were empty, the windows were shuttered. +One might have considered the middle house with the two, for its +step was unscrubbed, and it presented unwashed windows. + +It was a heavy, deep-walled structure like a monument. Even the +street in the vicinity was empty. If the biologist had been +seeking an undisturbed quarter of London, he had, beyond doubt, +found it here. + +There was a bridged-over court before the house. Lady Muriel +crossed. She paused before the door. There had been a bell pull +in the wall, but the brass handle was broken and only the wire +remained. + +She was uncertain whether one was supposed to pull this wire, and +in the hesitation she took hold of the door latch. To her +surprise the door yielded, and following the impulse of her +extended hand, she went in. + +The hall was empty. There was no servant to be seen. And +immediately the domestic arrangement of the biologist were clear +to her. They would be that of one who had a cleaning woman in on +certain days, and so lived alone. She was not encouraged by this +economy, and yet such a custom in a man like Bramwell Winton +might be habit. + +The scientist, in the popular conception, was not concerned with +the luxury of life - they were a rum lot. + +But the house was not empty. A smart hat and stick were in the +rack and from what should be a drawing room, above, there +descended faintly the sound of voices. + +It seemed ridiculous to Lady Muriel to go out and struggle with +the broken bell wire. She would go up, now that she had entered, +and announce herself, since, in any event, it must come to that. + +The heavy oak door closed without a sound, as it had opened. +Lady Muriel went up the stairway. She had nothing to put down. +The only thing she carried was a purse, and lest it should appear +suggestive - as of one coming with his empty wallet in his hand - +she tucked the gold mesh into the bosom of her jacket. + +The door to the drawing room was partly open, and as Lady Muriel +approached the top of the stair she heard the voices of two men +in an eager colloquy; a smart English accent from the world that +she was so desperately endeavoring to remain in, and a voice that +paused and was unhurried. But they were both eager, as I have +written, as though commonly impulsed by an unusual concern. + +And now that she was near, Lady Muriel realized that the +conversation was not low or under uttered. The smart voice was, +in fact, loud and incisive. It was the heavy house that reduced +the sounds. In fact, the conversation was keyed up. The two men +were excited about something. + +A sentence arrested the woman's advancing feet. + +"My word! Bramwell, if some one should go there and bring the +things out, he would make a fortune, and would be famous. Nobody +ever believed these stories." + +"There was Le Petit, Sir Godfrey," replied the deliberate voice. +"He declared over his signature that he had seen them." + +"But who believed Le Petit," continued the other. "The world +took him to be a French imaginist like Chateaubriand . . . who +the devil, Bramwell, supposed there was any truth in this old +story? But by gad, sir, it's true! The water color shows it, +and if you turn it over you will see that the map on the back of +it gives the exact location of the spot. It's all exact work, +even the fine lines of the map have the bearings indicated. The +man who made that water color, and the drawing on the back of it, +had been on the spot. + +"Of course, we don't know conclusively who made it. Tony had +gone in from the West coast after big game, and he found the +thing put up as a sort of fetish in a devil house. It was one of +the tribes near the Karamajo range. As I told you, we have only +Tony's diary for it. I found the thing among his effects after +he was killed in Flanders. It's pretty certain Tony did not +understand the water color. There was only this single entry in +the diary about how he found it, and a query in pencil. + +"My word! if he had understood the water color, he would have +beaten over every foot of Africa to Lake Leopold. And it would +have been the biggest find of his time. Gad! what a splash he'd +have made! But he never had any luck, the beggar . . . stopped a +German bullet in the first week out. + +"Now, how the devil, Bramwell, do you suppose that water color +got into a native medicine house?" + +The reflective voice replied slowly. + +"I've thought about the thing, Sir Godfrey. It must have been +the work of the Holland explorer, Maartin. He was all about in +Africa, and he died in there somewhere, at least he never came +out . . . that was ten years ago. I've looked him up, and I find +that he could do a water color - in fact there's a collection of +his water colors in, the Dutch museum. They're very fine work, +like this one; exquisite, I'd say. The fellow was born an +artist. + +"How it got into the hands of a native devil doctor is not +difficult to imagine. The sleeping sickness may have wiped +Maartin out, or the natives may have rushed his camp some +morning, or he may have been mauled by a beast. Any article of a +white man is medicine stuff you know. When you first showed me +the thing I was puzzled. I knew what it was because I had read +Le Petit's pretension . . . I can't call it a pretension now; the +things are there whether he saw them or not. + +"I think he did not see them. But it is certain from this water +color that some one did; and Maartin is the only explorer that +could have done such a color. As soon as I thought of Maartin I +knew the thing could have been done by no other." + +Lady Muriel had remained motionless on the stair. The door to +the drawing room, before her, was partly open. She stepped in to +the angle of the wall and drew the door slowly back until it +covered this angle in which she stood. + +She was rich in such experiences, for her success had depended, +not a little, on overhearing what was being said. Through the +crack of the door the whole interior of the room was visible. + +Sir Godfrey Halleck, a little dapper man, was sitting across the +table from Bramwell Winton. His elbows were on the table, and he +was looking eagerly at the biologist. Bramwell Winton had in his +hands the thing under discussion. + +It seemed to be a piece of cardboard or heavy paper about six +inches in length by, perhaps, four in width. Lady Muriel could +not see what was drawn or painted on this paper. But the heart +in her bosom quickened. She had chanced on the spoor of +something worth while. + +The little dapper man flung his head up. + +"Oh, it's certain, Bramwell; it's beyond any question now. My +word! If Tony were only alive, or I twenty years younger! It's +no great undertaking, to go in to the Karamajo Mountains. One +could start from the West Coast, unship any place and pick up a +bunch of natives. The map on the back of the water color is +accurate. The man who made that knew how to travel in an unknown +country. He must have had a theodolite and the very best +equipment. Anybody could follow that map." + +There was a battered old dispatch box on the table beside Sir +Godfrey's arm - one that had seen rough service. + +"Of course," he went on, "we don't know when Tony picked up this +drawing. It was in this box here with his diary, an automatic +pistol and some quinine. The date of the diary entry is the only +clue. That would indicate that he was near the Karamajo range at +the time, not far from the spot." + +He snapped his fingers. + +"What damned luck!" + +He clinched his hands and brought them down on the table. + +"I'm nearly seventy, Bramwell, but you're ten years under that. +You could go in. No one need know the object of your expedition. +Hector Bartlett didn't tell the whole of England when he went out +to Syria for the gold plates. A scientist can go anywhere. No +one wonders what he is about. It wouldn't take three months. +And the climate isn't poisonous. I think it's mostly high +ground. Tony didn't complain about it." + +The biologist answered without looking up. + +"I haven't got the money, Sir Godfrey." + +The dapper little man jerked his head as over a triviality. + +"I'll stake you. It wouldn't cost above five hundred pounds." + +The biologist sat back in his chair, at the words, and looked +over the table at his guest. + +"That's awfully decent of you, Godfrey," he said, "and I'd go if +I saw a way to get your money to you if anything happened." + +"Damn the money!" cried the other. + +The biologist smiled. + +"Well," he said, "let me think about it. I could probably fix up +some sort of insurance. Lloyd's will bet nearly any sane man +that he won't die for three months. And besides I should wish to +look things up a little." + +Sir Godfrey rose. + +"Oh, to be sure," he said, "you want to make certain about the +thing. We might be wrong. I hadn't an idea what it was until I +brought it to you, and of course Tony hadn't an idea. Make +certain of it by all means." + +The biologist extended his long legs under the table. He +indicated the water color in his hand. + +"This thing's certain," he said. "I know what this thing is." + +He rapped the water color with the fingers of his free hand. + +"This thing was painted on the spot. Maartin was looking at this +thing when he painted it. You can see the big shadows +underneath. No living creature could have imagined this or +painted it from hearsay. He had to see it. And he did see it. +I wasn't thinking about this, Godfrey. I was thinking the Dutch +government might help a bit in the hope of finding some trace of +Maartin and I should wish to examine any information they might +have about him." + +"Damn the Dutch government!" cried the little man. "And damn +Lloyd's. We will go it on our own hook." + +The biologist smiled. + +"Let me think about it, a little," he said. + +The dapper man flipped a big watch out of his waistcoat pocket. + +"Surely!" he cried, "I must get the next train up. Have you got +a place to lock the stuff? I had to cut this lid open with a +chisel." + +He indicated the tin dispatch box. + +"Better keep it all. You'll want to run through the diary, I +imagine. Tony's got down the things explorer chaps are always +keen about; temperature, water supply, food and all that. . . . . +Now, I'm off. See you Thursday afternoon at the United Service Club. +Better lunch with me." + +Then he pushed the dispatch box across the table. The biologist +rose and turned back the lid of the box. The contents remained +as Sir Godfrey's dead son had left them; a limp leather diary, an +automatic pistol of some American make, a few glass tubes of +quinine, packed in cotton wool. + +He put the water color on the bottom of the box and replaced +them. + +Then he took the dispatch box over to an old iron safe at the +farther end of the room, opened it, set the box within, locked +the door, and, returning, thrust the key under a pile of journals +on the corner of the table. Then he went out, and down the +stairway with his guest to the door. + +They passed within a finger touch of Lady Muriel. + +The woman was quick to act. There would be no borrowing from +Bramwell Winton. He would now, with this expedition on the way, +have no penny for another. But here before her, as though +arranged by favor of Fatality, was something evidently of +enormous value that she could cash in to Hecklemeir. + +There was fame and fortune on the bottom of that dispatch box. + +Something that would have been the greatest find of the age to +Tony Halleck . . . something that the biologist, clearly from his +words and manner, valued beyond the gold plates of Sir Hector +Bartlett. + +It was a thing that Hecklemeir would buy with money . . . the +very thing which he would be at this opportune moment interested +to purchase. She saw it in the very first comprehensive glance. + +Her luck was holding Fortune was more than favorable, merely. It +exercised itself actively, with evident concern, in her behalf. + +Lady Muriel went swiftly into the room. She slipped the key from +under the pile of journals and crossed to the safe sitting +against the wall. + +It was an old safe of some antediluvian manufacture and the lock +was worn. The stem of the key was smooth and it slipped in her +gloved hands. She could not hold it firm enough to turn the +lock. Finally with her bare fingers and with one hand to aid the +other she was able to move the lock and so open the safe. + +She heard the door to the street close below, and the faint sound +of Bramwell Winton's footsteps as though he went along the hall +into the service portion of the house. She was nervous and +hurried, but this reassured her. + +The battered dispatch box sat within on the empty bottom of the a +safe. + +She lifted the lid; an automatic pistol lay on a limp +leather-backed journal, stained, discolored and worn. Lady +Muriel slipped her hand under these articles and lifted out the +thing she sought. + +Even in the pressing haste of her adventure, the woman could not +forbear to look at the thing upon which these two men set so +great a value. She stopped then a moment on her knees beside the +safe, the prized article in her hands. + +A map, evidently drawn with extreme care, was before her. She +glanced at it hastily and turned the thing quickly over. What +she saw amazed and puzzled her. Even in this moment of tense +emotions she was astonished: She saw a pool of water, - not a +pool of water in the ordinary sense - but a segment of water, as +one would take a certain limited area of the surface of the sea +or a lake or river. It was amber-colored and as smooth as glass, +and on the surface of this water, as though they floated, were +what appeared to be three, reddish-purple colored flowers, and +beneath them on the bottom of the water were huge indistinct +shadows. + +The water was not clear to make out the shadows. But the +appearing flowers were delicately painted. They stood out +conspicuously on the glassy surface of the water as though they +were raised above it. + +Amazement held the woman longer than she thought, over this +extraordinary thing. Then she thrust it into the bosom of her +jacket, fastening the button securely over it. + +The act kept her head down. When she lifted it Bramwell Winton +was standing in the door. + +In terror her hand caught up the automatic pistol out of the tin +box. She acted with no clear, no determined intent. It was a +gesture of fear and of indecision; escape through menace was +perhaps the subconscious motive; the most primitive, the most +common motive of all creatures in the corner. It extends +downward from the human mind through all life. + +To spring up, to drag the veil over her face with her free hand, +and to thrust the weapon at the figure in the doorway was all +simultaneous and instinctive acts in the expression of this +primordial impulse of escape through menace. + +Then a thing happened. + +There was a sharp report and the figure standing in the doorway +swayed a moment and fell forward into the room. The unconscious +gripping of the woman's fingers had fired the pistol. + +For a moment Lady Muriel stood unmoving, arrested in every muscle +by this accident. But her steady wits - skilled in her +profession - did not wholly desert her. She saw that the man was +dead. There was peril in that - immense, uncalculated peril, but +the prior and immediate peril, the peril of discovery in the very +accomplishment of theft, was by this act averted. + +She stooped over, her eyes fixed on the sprawling body and with +her free hand closed the door of the safe. Then she crossed the +room, put the pistol down on the floor near the dead man's hand +and went out. + +She went swiftly down the stairway and paused a moment at the +door to look out. The street was empty. She hurried away. + +She met no one. A cab in the distance was appearing. She hailed +it as from a cross street and returned to Regent. It was +characteristic of the woman that her mind dwelt upon the spoil +she carried rather than upon the act she had done. + +She puzzled at the water color. How could these things be +flowers? + +Bramwell Winton was a biologist; he would not be concerned with +flowers. And Sir Godfrey Halleck and his son Tony, the big game +hunter, were not men to bother themselves with blossoms. Sir +Godfrey, as she now remembered vaguely, had, like his dead son, +been a keen sportsman in his youth; his country house was full of +trophies. + +She carried buttoned in the bosom of her jacket something that +these men valued. But, what was it? Well, at any rate it was +something that would mean fame and fortune to the one who should +bring it out of Africa. That one would now be Hecklemeir, and +she should have her share of the spoil. + +Lady Muriel found the drawing-room of her former employer in some +confusion; rugs were rolled up, bronzes were being packed. But +in the disorder of it the proprietor was imperturbable. He +merely elevated his eyebrows at her reappearance. She went +instantly to the point. + +"Hecklemeir," she said, "how would you like to have a definite +objective in your explorations?" + +The man looked at her keenly. + +"What do you mean precisely?" he replied. + +"I mean," she continued, "something that would bring one fame and +fortune if one found it." And she added, as a bit of lure, "You +remember the gold plates Hector Bartlett dug up in Syria?" + +He came over closer to her; his little eyes narrowed. + +"What have you got?" he said. + +His facetious manner - that vulgar persons imagine to be +distinguished - was gone out of him. He was direct and simple. + +She replied with no attempt at subterfuge. + +"I've got a map of a route to some sort of treasure - I don't +know what - It's in the Karamajo Mountains in the French Congo; +a map to it and a water color of the thing." + +Hecklemeir did not ask how Lady Muriel came by the thing she +claimed; his profession always avoided such detail. But he knew +that she had gone to Bramwell Winton; and what she had must have +come from some scientific source. The mention of Hector Bartlett +was not without its virtue. + +Lady Muriel marked the man's changed manner, and pushed her +trade. + +"I want a check for a hundred pounds and a third of the thing +when you bring it out." + +Hecklemeir stood for a moment with the tips of his fingers +pressed against his lips; then replied. + +"If you have anything like the thing you describe, I'll give you +a hundred pounds . . . let me see it." + +She took the water color out of the bosom of her jacket and gave +it to him. + +He carried it over to the window and studied it a moment. Then +he turned with a sneering oath. + +"The devil take your treasure," he said, "these things are +water-elephants. I don't care a farthing if they stand on the +bottom of every lake in Africa!" + +And he flung the water color toward her. Mechanically the +stunned woman picked it up and smoothed it out in her fingers. + +With the key to the picture she saw it clearly, the shadowy +bodies of the beasts and the tips of their trunks distended on +the surface like a purple flower. And vaguely, as though it were +a memory from a distant life, she recalled hearing the French +Ambassador and Baron Rudd discussing the report of an explorer +who pretended to have seen these supposed fabulous elephants come +out of an African forest and go down under the waters of Lake +Leopold. + +She stood there a moment, breaking the thing into pieces with her +bare hands. Then she went out. At the door on the landing she +very nearly stepped against a little cockney. + +"My Lidy," he whined, "I was bringing your gloves; you dropped +them on your way up." + +She took them mechanically and began to draw them on . . . the +cryptic sign of the cleaner on the wrist hem was now to her +indicatory of her submerged estate. The little cockney hung +about a moment as for a gratuity delayed, then he disappeared +down the stair before her. + +She went slowly down, fitting the gloves to her fingers. + +Midway of the flight she paused. The voice of the little +cockney, but without the accent, speaking to a Bobby standing +beside the entrance reached her. + +"It was Sir Henry Marquis who set the Yard to register all +laundry marks in London. Great C. I. D. Chief, Sir Henry!" + +And Lady Muriel remembered that she had removed these gloves in +order to turn the slipping key in Bramwell Winton's safe lock. + + + + +X.-The Last Adventure + + +The talk had run on treasure. + +I could not sleep and my friends had dropped in. I had the big +South room on the second floor of the Hotel de Paris. It looks +down on the Casino and the Mediterranean. Perhaps you know it. + +Queer friends, you'd say. Every man-jack of them a gambler. But +when one begins to sit about all night with his eyes open, the +devil's a friend. + +Barclay was standing before the fire. The others had drifted +out. He's a big man pitted with the smallpox. He made a +gesture, flinging out his hand toward the door. + +"That bunch thinks there's a curse on treasure, Sir Henry. +That's one of the oldest notions in the world . . . it's +unlucky." + +"But I know where there's a treasure that's not unlucky. At +least it was not unlucky for poor Charlie Tavor. He did not get +it, but there was no curse on it that reached to him. It helped +poor Charlie finish in style. He died like a lord in a big +country house, with a formal garden and a line of lackeys." + +Barclay paused. + +"Queer chap, Tavor. He was the best all round explorer in the +world. I bar nobody. Charlie Tavor could take a nigger and +cross the poisonous plateau south west of the Libyan desert. +I've backed him. I know . . . but he had no business sense, +anybody could fool him. He found the stock of bar silver on the +west face of the Andes that made old Nute Hardman a quarter of a +million dollars, clear, after the cursed beast had split it a +half dozen ways with a crooked South American government." + +Barclay's teeth set and he jerked up his clinched hand. + +"It was a damned steal, Sir Henry. A piece of low down, dirty +robbery; and it was like taking candy away from a child . . . . +`Sign here, Mr. Tavor,' and Charlie would scrawl on his fist . . +. . Some people think there's no hell, but what's God Almighty +going to do with Old Nute?" + +He flung out his hand again. + +"Still the thing didn't dent Charlie. He never missed a step. +`Don't bother, Barclay, old man,' he'd say, `I'll find something +else,' and then he'd go off into this dream he had of coming back +when he'd struck it, to the old home county in England and laying +it over the bunch that had called him `no good.' He never talked +much, but I gathered from odds and ends that he was the black +sheep in a pretty smart flock. + +"Then, I'd stake him to a cheap outfit - not much, I've said he +could push through the Libyan desert with a nigger - and he'd +drop out of the world. It wasn't charity. I got my money's +worth. The clay pots he brought me from Yucatan would sell any +day for more cash than I ever advanced him." + +Barclay moved a little before the fire. I was listening in a big +chair, my feet extended toward the hearth; a smoking jacket had +replaced my dinner coat. + +"It was five years ago, in London," Barclay went on, "that I +fitted Charlie out for his last adventure. He wanted to land in +the gulf of Pe-chi-li and go into the great desert of the Shamo +in Central Mongolia. You'll find the Shamo all dotted out on the +maps; but it's faked dope. No white man knows anything about the +Shamo. + +"It's a trick to lay off these great waste areas and call them +elevated plateaus or sunken plateaus. You can't go by the atlas. +Where's Kane's Open Polar Sea and Morris K. Jessup's Land? +Still, Charlie thought the Shamo might be a low plain, and he +thought he might find something in it. You see the great gold +caravans used to cross it, three thousand years ago . . . and as +Charlie kept saying, `What's time in the Shamo?' + +"Well, I bought him a kit of stuff, and he took a P. and O. +through the Suez. I got a long letter from Pekin two months +later; and then Charlie Tavor dropped out of the world. I went +back to America. No word ever came from Charlie. I thought he +was dead. I suppose a white man's life is about the cheapest +thing there is northwest of the Yellow River; and Charlie never +had an escort. A coolie and an old service pistol would about +foot up his defenses. + +"And there's every ghastly disease in Mongolia . . . . Still +some word always came from Tavor inside of a year; a tramp around +the Horn would bring in a dirty note, written God knows where, +and carried out to the ship by a naked native swimming with the +thing in his teeth; or some little embassy would send it to me in +a big official envelope stamped with enough red wax to make a +saint's candle. + +"But the luck failed this time. A year ran on, then two, then +three and I passed Charlie up. He'd surely `gone west!'" + +Barclay paused, thrust his hands into the pockets of his dinner +jacket and looked down at me. + +"One night in New York I got a call from the City Hospital. The +telephone message came in about ten o'clock. I was in Albany; I +found the message when I got back the following morning and I +went ever to the hospital. + +"The matron said that they had picked up a man on the North River +docks in an epileptic fit and the only name they could find on +him was my New York address. They thought he was going to die, +he was cold and stiff for hours, and they had undertaken to reach +me in order to identify him. But he did not die. He was up this +morning and she would bring him in." + +Barclay paused again. + +"She brought in Charlie Tavor! . . . And I nearly screamed when +I saw the man. He was dressed in one of those cheap +hand-me-downs that the Germans used to sell in the tropics for a +pound, three and six, his eyes looked as dead as glass and he was +as white as plaster. How the man managed to keep on his feet I +don't know. + +"I didn't stop for any explanation. I got Tavor into a taxi, and +over to my apartment." + +Barclay moved in his position before the fire. + +"But on the way over a thing happened that some little god played +in for a joke. There was a block just where Thirty-third crosses +into Fifth Avenue, and our taxi pulled up by a limousine." + +Barclay suddenly thrust out his big pock-marked face. + +"The thing couldn't have happened by itself. Some burlesque +angel put it over when the Old Man wasn't looking. Spread out on +the tapestry cushions of that limousine was Nute Hardman! + +"There they were side by side. Not six feet apart; Old Nute in a +sable-lined coat and Charlie in his hand-me-down, at a pound, +three and six." + +The muscles in Barclay's big jaw tightened. + +"Maybe there is a joker that runs the world, and maybe the devil +runs it. Anyhow it's a queer system. Here was Charlie Tavor, +straight as a string, down and out. And here was Nute Hardman, +so crooked that a fly couldn't light on him and stand level, with +everything that money could buy. + +"I cast it up while the taxi stood there beside the car. Nute +was consul in a South American port that you couldn't spell and +couldn't find on the map. He didn't have two dollars to rub +together, until Charlie Tavor turned up. There he sat, out of +the world, forgotten, growing moss and getting ready to rot; and +God Almighty, or the devil, or whatever it is, steered Charlie +Tavor in to him with the bar silver. + +"He picked Charlie to the bone and cut for the States. And this +damned crooked luck went right along with him. He was in a big +apartment, now, up on Fifth Avenue and four-flushing toward every +point of the compass. His last stunt was `patron of science.' +He'd gotten into the Geographical Society, and he was laying +lines for the Royal Society in London. He had a Harvard don +working over in the Metropolitan library, building him a thesis! + +"The thing made me ugly. I wanted to have a plain talk with the +devil. He wasn't playing fair. Old Nute couldn't have been +worth the whole run of us; I've legged some myself, and I had a +right to be heard. The devil ought to make old Nute split up +with Charlie. True, Charlie belonged in the other camp, but I +didn't. And if I wanted a little favor I felt that the devil +ought to come across with it . . . I put it up to him, or down +to him, as you'd say, while I sat there in that taxi." + +There was a grim energy in Barclay's face. He was no ordinary +person. + +"I got Tavor up to my apartment, and a goblet of brandy in him. +I never saw anybody look like Tavor as he sat there propped up in +the chair with a lot of cushions around him. It was winter and +cold. He had no clothes to speak of, but he did not seem to +notice either the cold outside or the heat in the apartment, as +though, somehow, he couldn't tell the difference. + +"And he was the strangest color that any human being ever was in +the world. I've said that he looked like plaster, and he did +look like it, but he looked like a plaster man with a thin coat +of tan colored paint on him." + +Barclay paused. + +"It's hardly a wonder that no message reached me. The devil +couldn't have got word out of the hell land he'd been in. Lost +is no name for it. He'd been all over the Shamo, and the big +Sahara's a park to it. He'd been North to the Kangai where they +used to get the gold that the caravans carried across the Shamo, +and he'd followed the old trails South to the great wall. + +"It's all a Satan's country. I don't know why God Almighty +wanted to make a hell hole like the Shamo!" + +He paused, then he went on. + +"But it wasn't in the Shamo that Tavor got track of the thing he +was after. He said that the age he was trying to get back into +was much more remote than he imagined. It must have been a good +many thousands of years ago. He couldn't tell; long before +anything like dependable history at any rate . . . . There must +have been an immense age of great oriental splendor in the South +of Asia and along the East African coast, dying out at about the +time our knowledge of human history begins." + +Barclay went on, unmoving before the fire. + +"I don't know why we imagine that the legends of a little tribe +in Syria running back to the fifth or sixth century begins the +world . . . . Anyway, Tavor got the notion, as I have said, of +an age in decay at about the time these legends start in; with a +trade moving west. + +"He nosed it all out! God knows how. Of course it was only a +theory - only a notion in fact. He hadn't anything to go on that +I could see. But after two years' drifting about in the Shamo, +this is how he finally figured it: + +"Northern Asia traded gold in the west; the mined product would +be molded into bricks in lower Mongolia. It was then carried +over land to the southwest coast of Arabia. There was some great +center of world commerce low down on the Red Sea about eight +hundred miles south of Port Said. + +"Tavor said that when he began to think about the thing the +caravan route was pretty clear to him. Arabia seemed to have +been connected, in that remote age, with Persia at the Strait of +Ormus, so there was a direct overland route . . . . That put +another notion into Tavor's head; these treasure caravans must +have crossed the immense Sandy Desert of El-Khali. And this +notion developed another; if one were seeking the wreck of any +one of these treasure caravans he would be more likely to find it +in the El-Khali than in the Shamo." + +Barclay moved away from the fire, got a chair and sat down. He +was across the hearth from me. He looked about the room and at +the curtained windows that shut out the blue night. + +"You can't sleep," he went on, "so I might just as well tell you +this. A good deal of it is what the lawyers called dicta . . . +obiter dicta; when the judge gets to putting in stuff on the side +. . . but it's a long time 'til daylight." + +He had taken a small chair and he sat straight in it after the +manner of a big man. + +"You see the treasure carried south across the Shamo would be +`gold wheat' (dust, we'd call it), packed in green skins . . . +you couldn't find that. But the caravans crossing the El-Khali +would carry this gold in bricks for the great west trade. Now a +gold brick is indestructible; you can't think of anything that +would last forever like a gold brick. Nothing would disturb it, +water and sun are alike without effect on it . . . . + +"That was Tavor's notion, and he went right after it. Most of us +would have slacked out after two years in the hell hole of +Central Mongolia. But not Charlie Tavor. He got down to Arabia +somehow; God knows, I never asked him, - and he went right on +into the Great Sandy Desert of Roba El Khali. The oldest caravan +route known runs straight across the desert from Muscat to Mecca. +It's a thousand miles across - but you can strike the line of it +nearly four hundred miles west in a hundred miles travel by going +due South from the coast between fifty and fifty-five degrees. + +"You'll find this old caravan route drawn on the map, a dead +straight line across the thirty-third parallel. But the man that +put it on there never traveled over it. He doesn't know whether +it is a sunken plateau, or an elevated plateau, or what the devil +it is that this old route runs across. And he doesn't know what +the earth's like in the great basin of the El-Khali; maybe it's +sand and maybe it's something else." + +Barclay stopped and looked queerly at me. + +"The Doctor Cooks have put a lot of stuff over on us. The fact +is, there's six million square miles of the earth's surface that +nobody knows anything about." + +He got a package of American cigarettes out of his pocket, +selected one and lighted it with a fragment of the box thrust +into the fire. + +"That's where Tavor was the last year. When the ambulance picked +him up, he'd crawled around the Horn in a Siamese tramp." + +He paused. + +"Great people, the English; no fag-out to them. Look how Scott +went on in the Antarctic with his feet frozen . . . It's in the +blood; it was in Tavor. + +"I sat there that winter night in my room in New York while he +told me all about it. + +"It was morning when he finished - the milk wagons were on the +street, - and then, he added, quite simply, as though it were a +matter of no importance + +"'But I can't go back, Barclay, old man; my tramping's over. +That was no fit I had on the dock.' + +"He looked at me with his dead eyes in his tan-colored plaster +face. You've heard of the hemp-chewers and the betel-chewers; +well, all that's baby-food to a thing they've got in the Shamo. +It's a shredded root, bitter like cactus, and when you chew it, +you don't get tired and you don't get hot . . . you go on and you +don't know what the temperature is. Then some day, all at once, +you go down, cold all over like a dead man . . . that time you +don't die, but the next time . . . " + +Barclay snapped his fingers without adding the word.' + +"And you can calculate when the second one will strike you. It's +a hundred and eighty-one days to the hour." + +Then he added: + +"That was the first one on the dock. Tavor had six months to +live." + +The big man broke the cigarette in his fingers and threw the +pieces into the fire. Then he turned abruptly toward me. + +"And I know where he wanted to live for those six months. The +old dream was still with him. He wanted that country house in +his native county in England, with the formal garden and the +lackeys. The finish didn't bother him, but he wanted to round +out his life with the dream that he had carried about with him. + +"I put him to bed and went down into Broadway, and walked about +all night. Tavor couldn't go back and he had to have a bunch of +money. + +"It was no good. I couldn't see it. I went back Tavor was up +and I sat him down to a cross examination that would have +delighted the soul of a Philadelphia lawyer." + +Barclay paused. + +"It was all at once that I saw it - like you'd snap your fingers. +It was an accident of Charlie's talk . . . one of those obiter +dicta, that I mentioned a while ago. But I stopped Charlie and +went over to the Metropolitan Library; there I got me an expert - +an astronomer chap, as it happened, reading calculus in French +for fun - I gave him a twenty and I looked him in the eye. + +"Now, Professor,' I said, `this dope's got to be straight stuff, +I'm risking money on it; every word you write has got to be the +truth, and every line and figure that you put on your map has got +to be correct with a capital K.'" + +"'Surely,' he said, `I shall follow Huxley for the text and I +shall check the chart calculations for error.' + +"'And there's another thing, professor. You've got to go dumb on +this job, for which I double the twenty.' He looked puzzled, but +when he finally understood me, he said `Surely' again, and I went +back to my apartment. + +"'Charlie,' I said, `how much money would it take for this +English country life business?' + +"His eyes lighted up a little. + +"'Well, Barclay, old man,' he replied, `I've estimated it pretty +carefully a number of times. I could take Eldon's place for six +months with the right to purchase for two thousand dollars paid +down; and I could manage the servants and the living expenses for +another four thousand. I fear I should not be able to get on +with a less sum than six thousand dollars.' + +"Then he added - he was a child to the last - 'perhaps Mr. +Hardman will now be able to advance it; he promised me "a further +per cent" those were his words, when the matter was finally +concluded.' + +"Then ten thousand would do?" + +"My word,' he said, `I should go it like a lord on ten thousand. +Do you think Mr. Hardman would consider that sum?' + +"`I'm going to try him,' I said, `I've got some influence in a +quarter that he depends on.' + +"And I went out. I went down to my bank and got twenty U. S. +bonds of a thousand each. At five o'clock, the professor had his +dope ready - the text and the chart, neatly folded in a big +manilla envelope with a rubber band around it. And that evening +I went up to see old Nute." + +Barclay got another cigarette. There was a queer cynicism in his +big pitted face. + +"The church bunch," he said, "have got a strange conception of +the devil; they think he's always ready to lie down on his +friends. That's a fool notion. The devil couldn't do business +if he didn't come across when you needed him. + +"And there's another thing; the old-timers, when they went after +their god for a favor, always began by reciting what they'd done +for him . . . . That was sound dope! I tried it myself on the +way up to old Nute's apartment on Fifth Avenue. + +"I went over a lot of things. And whenever I made a point, I +rapped it on the pavement with the ferule of my walking stick; as +one would say, `you owe me for that!' + +"You see I was worked up about Tavor. When a man's carried a +dream over all the hell he'd pushed through he ought to have it +in the end." + +Barclay paused and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. + +"You know the swell apartments on Fifth Avenue; no name, only a +number; every floor a residence, only the elevators connecting +them. I found old Nute in the seventh; and I was bucked the +moment I got in. + +"The door from the drawing room to the library was open. The +Harvard don was going out, the one Nute had employed to get up +his thesis for the Royal Society of London - I mentioned him a +while ago. And I heard his final remark, flung back at the door. +`What you require, Sir, is the example case of some new +exploration - one that you have yourself conducted.' + +"That bucked me; the devil was on the job!" + +Barclay stopped again. He sat for a moment watching the smoke +from the cigarette climb in a blue mist slowly into the beautiful +fresco of the ceiling. + +"I told old Nute precisely what I've told you. How I'd backed +Tavor for his last adventure, and where he'd been; all over +Central Mongolia and finally across the Great Sandy Desert of +El-Khali. And I told him what Charlie was after; the theory he +started with and his final conclusion when he made his last push +along the old caravan route west from Muscat. + +"I went into the details, and the big notion that Tavor had +slowly pieced together; how the gold was mined in the ranges +south of Siberia, carried in green skins to lower Mongolia, +melted there and taken for trade Southwest across the El-Khali to +an immense Babylon of Commerce of which the present Mecca is +perhaps a decadent residuum. + +"I put it all in; the accessibility of this desert from the coast +on three sides, how the old caravan route parallels the +thirty-third meridian and how Charlie struck it four hundred +miles out into the desert in a hundred miles travel due south in +longitude between 50 and 55 degrees; all the details of Tavor's +hunt for the wreck of one of these treasure caravans. + +"Old Nute looked at me with his little hard eyes slipping about. + +"'And he didn't find it?' he said. + +"I didn't answer that. I went ahead and told him how I found +Tavor and the shape he was in, and then I added, `I'm not an +explorer, and Charlie can't go back.' + +"Old Nute's thick neck shot out at that. + +"'Then he did find it?' he said. + +"'Now look here, Nute,' I said, `you're not trading with Tavor on +this deal. You're trading with me and I'm just as slick as you +are. You'll get no chance to slip under on this. You forget all +I've told you just as though it had nothing to do with what I'm +going to tell you, and I'll come to the point.' + +"`Forget it?' he said. + +"'Yes,' I said, `forget it. I'm not going to put you on to what +Charlie knows, with any strings to it, or with any pointers that +you can run down without us. I've told you all about Tavor's big +hunt through the Shamo and the El-Khali for a purpose of my own +and not for the purpose of enabling you to locate the thing that +Charlie Tavor knows about.' + +"Hardman's voice went down into a low note. `What does he know?' +he said. + +"I looked him squarely in the little reptilian eyes. `He knows +where there is a treasure in gold equal in our money to three +hundred thousand dollars!' + +"Old Nute's little eyes focused into his nose an instant. Then +he took a chance at me. + +"'What's the country like?' + +"I went on as though I didn't see the drift. + +"'Tavor says this area of the earth's surface is a great plain +practically level, sloping gradually on one side and rising +gradually on the other.' + +"'Sand?' said Nute. + +"'No,' I replied, 'Tavor says that contrary to the common notion, +this plain is not covered with sand, it's a kind of chalk +deposit.' + +"'Hard to get to?' + +"Old Nute shot the query in with a little quick duck of his head. + +"I went straight on with the answer. + +"'Tavor says it's about a five or six days' journey from a sea +coast town.' + +"'Hard traveling?' + +"'No, Tavor says you can get within two miles of the place +without any difficulty whatever - he says anybody can do it. The +only difficulties are on the last two miles. But up to the last +two miles, it's a holiday journey for a middle-aged woman.' + +"Old Nute grunted. He put his fat hands together over his +waistcoat and twiddled his thumbs. + +"`Well,'; he said, 'what's in your mind about it?' + +"We were now up to the trade and I stated the terms. + +"'It's like this,' I said, 'Tavor's down and out. He's got only +six months to live. Fifth Avenue piled full of gold won't do him +any good if he's got to wait for it. What he wants is a little +money quick!' + +"Old Nute's eyes squinted. + +"'How much money?' he said. + +"'Well,' I said, 'Tavor will turn his map over to you for ten +thousand dollars . . . Death's crowding him.' + +"Old Nute's fat fingers began to drum on his waistcoat. + +"`How do I know the gold's there and the map's straight?' + +"'Did you ever know Tavor to lie?' I said. + +"'No,' he said, 'Tavor's not a liar; but I am a business man, Mr. +Barclay, and in business we do not go on verbal assurances, no +matter how unquestioned.' + +"'That's right,' I replied, `I'm a business man, too; that's why +I came instead of sending Tavor . . . . you found out he wasn't a +business man in the first deal.' + +"Then I took my `shooting irons' out of my pocket and laid them +on the table. + +"There,' I said, `are twenty, one-thousand United States bonds, +not registered,' and I put my hand on one of the big manilla +envelopes.; `and here,' I said, `is an accurate description of +the place where this treasure lies and a map of the route to it,' +and I put my hand on the other. + +"'Now,' I went on, `I believe every word of this thing. Charles +Tavor is the best all-round explorer in the world. I've known +him a lifetime and what he says goes with me. We'll put up this +bunch of stuff with a stakeholder for the term of a year, and if +the gold isn't there and if the map showing the route to it isn't +correct and if every word I've said about it isn't precisely the +truth, you take down my bonds and keep them.' + +"Old Nute got up and walked about the room. I knew what he was +thinking. `Here's another one of them - there's all kinds.' + +"But it hooked him. We wrote out the terms and put the stuff up +with old Commodore Harris - the straightest sport in America. +Nute had the right to copy the map, and the text and a year to +verify it. And I took the ten thousand back to Charlie Tavor." + +Barclay got up and went over to the window. He drew back the +heavy tapestry curtains. It was morning; the blue dawn was +beginning to illumine Monaco and the polished arc of the sea. He +stood looking down into it, holding the curtain in his hand. + +"I give the devil his due for that, Sir Henry," he said. +"Charlie Tavor got his dream at the end; he died like a gentleman +in his English country house with the formal garden and the +lackeys." + +"And the other man got the treasure?" I said. Barclay replied +without moving. + +"No, he didn't get it." + +"Then you lost your bonds?" + +"No, I didn't lose them; Commodore Harris handed them back to me +on the last day of the year." + +I sat up in my big lounge chair. + +"Didn't Hardman make a fight for them; if he didn't find the +treasure - didn't he squeal?" + +Barclay turned about, drawing the curtain close behind him. + +"And be laughed out of the high-brow bunch that he was trying to +get into? . . . I said old Nute was a crook, but I didn't say +he was a fool." + +I turned around in the chair. + +"I don't understand this thing, Barclay. If the treasure was +there, and you gave Hardman a correct map of the route to it, and +it lay on a practically level plain, and he could get within two +miles of it without difficulty in four or five days' travel from +a sea coast town, why couldn't he get it? Was it all the truth?" + +"It was every word precisely the truth," he said. + +"Then why couldn't he get it?" + +Barclay looked down at me; his big pitted face was illumined with +a cynical smile. + +"Well, Sir Henry," he said, "'the trouble is with those last two +miles. They're water . . . straight down. The level plain is +the bed of the Atlantic ocean and that gold is in the hold of the +Titanic." + + + + +XI.-American Horses + + +The thing began in the colony room of the Empire Club in London. +The colony room is on the second floor and looks out over +Piccadilly Circus. It was at an hour when nobody is in an English +club. There was a drift of dirty fog outside. Such nights come +along in October. + +Douglas Hargrave did not see the Baronet until he closed the door +behind him. Sir Henry was seated at a table, leaning over, his +face between his hand, and his elbows resting on the polished +mahogany board. There was a sheet of paper on the table between +the Baronet's elbows. There were a few lines written on the +paper and the man's faculties were concentrated on them. He did +not see the jewel dealer until that person was half across the +room, then he called to him. + +"Hello, Hargrave," he said. "Do you know anything about +ciphers?" + +"Only the trade one that our firm uses," replied the jewel +dealer. "And that's a modification of the A B C code." + +"Well," he said, "take a look at this." + +The jewel dealer sat down at the other side of the table and the +Baronet handed him the sheet of paper. The man expected to see a +lot of queer signs and figures; but instead he found a simple +trade's message, as it seemed to him. + +P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don Carlow +from N. Y. + +Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up. + +"Well," said the jewel dealer, "somebody's going to ship nine +hundred horses. Where's the mystery?" + +The Baronet shrugged his big shoulders. + +"The mystery," he said, "is everywhere. It's before and after +and in the body of this message. There's hardly anything to it +but mystery." + +"Who sent it?" said Hargrave. + +"That's one of the mysteries," replied the Baronet. + +"Ah!" said the jewel dealer. "Who received it?" + +"That's another," he answered. + +"At any rate," continued Hargrave, "you know where you got it." + +"Right," replied the Baronet. "I know where I got it." He took +three newspapers out of the pocket of his big tweed coat. "There +it is," he said, "in the personal column of three newspapers - +today's Times printed in London; the Matin printed in Paris; and +a Dutch daily printed in Amsterdam." + +And there was the message set up in English, in two sentences +precisely word for word, in three newspapers printed on the same +day in London, Paris and Amsterdam. + +"It seems to be a message all right," said Hargrave: "But why do +you imagine it's a cipher?" + +The Baronet looked closely at the American jewel dealer for a +moment. + +"Why should it be printed in English in these foreign papers," he +said, "if it were not a cipher?" + +"Perhaps," said Hargrave, "the person for whom it's intended does +not know any other language." + +The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + +"The persons for whom this message is intended," he said, "do not +confine themselves to a single language. It's a pretty +well-organized international concern." + +"Well," said Hargrave, "it doesn't look like a mystery that ought +to puzzle the ingenuity of the Chief of the Criminal +Investigation Department of the metropolitan police." He nodded +to Sir Henry. "You have only to look out for the arrival of nine +hundred horses and when they get in to see who takes them off the +boat. The thing looks easy." + +"It's not so easy as it looks," replied the Baronet. "Evidently +these horses might go to France, Holland or England. That's the +secret in this message. That's where the cipher comes in. The +name of the port is in that cipher somewhere." + +"But you can, watch the steamer," said Hargrave, "the Don +Carlos." + +The Baronet laughed. + +"There's no such steamer!" He got up and began to walk round the +table. "Nine hundred horses," he said. "This thing has got to +stop. They're on the sea now, on the way over from America: We +have got to find out where they will go ashore." + +He stopped, stooped over and studied the message which he had +written out and which also lay before him in the three +newspapers. + +"It's there," he said, "the name of the port of arrival, +somewhere in those two sentences. But I can't get at it. It's +no cipher that I have ever heard of. It's no one of the hundred +figure or number ciphers that the experts in the department know +anything about. If we knew the port of arrival we could pick up +the clever gentleman who comes to take away the horses. But +what's the port - English, French or Dutch? There are a score of +ports." He struck the paper with his hand. "It's there, my word +for it, if we could only decode the thing." + +Then he stood up, his face lifted, his fingers linked behind his +back. He crossed the room and stood looking out at the thin +yellow fog drifting over Piccadilly Circus. Finally he came +back, gathered up his papers and put them in the pocket of his +big tweed coat. + +"There's one man in Europe," he said, "who can read this thing. +That's the Swiss expert criminologist, old Arnold, of Zurich. +He's lecturing at the Sorbonne in Paris. I'm going to see him." + +Then he went out. + +Now that, as has been said, is how the thing began. It was the +first episode in the series of events that began to go forward on +this extraordinary night. One will say that the purchasing agent +for a great New York jewel house ought to be accustomed to +adventures. The writers of romance have stimulated that fancy. +But the fact is that such persons are practical people. They +never do any of the things that the story writers tell us. They +never carry jewels about with them. Of course they know the +police departments of foreign cities. All jewel dealers make a +point of that. Hargrave's father was an old friend of Sir Henry +Marquis, chief of the C. I. D., and the young man always went to +see him when he happened in London. That explains the freedom of +his talk to Hargrave on this night in the Empire Club in +Piccadilly. + +The young man went over and sat down by the fire. The big room +was empty. The sounds outside seemed muffled and distant. The +incident that had just passed impressed him. He wondered why +people should imagine that a purchasing agent of a jewel house +must be a sort of expert in the devices of mystery. As has been +said, the thing's a notion. Everything is shipped through +reliable transportation companies and insured. There was much +more mystery in a shipload of horses - the nine hundred horses +that were galloping through the head of Sir Henry Marquis - than +in all the five prosaic years during which young Hargrave had +succeeded his father as a jewel buyer. The American was +impressed by this mystery of the nine hundred horses. Sir Henry +had said it was a mystery in every direction. + +Now, as he sat alone before the fire in the colony room of the +Empire Club and thought about it, the thing did seem +inexplicable. Why should the metropolitan police care who +imported horses, or in what port a shipload of them was landed? +The war was over. Nobody was concerned about the importation of +horses. Why should Sir Henry be so disturbed about it? But he +was disturbed; and he had rushed off to Paris to see an expert on +ciphers. That seemed a tremendous lot of trouble to take. The +Baronet knew the horses were on the sea coming from America, he +said. If he knew that much, how could he fail to discover the +boat on which they were carried and the port at which they would +arrive? Nobody could conceal nine hundred horses! + +Hargrave was thinking about that, idly, before the glow of the +coal fire, when the second episode in this extraordinary affair +arrived. + +A steward entered. + +"Visitor, please," he said, "to see Mr. Hargrave." + +Then he presented his tray with a card. The jewel dealer took +the card with some surprise. Everybody knew that he was at the +Empire Club. It is a colony thing with chambers for foreign +guests. A list of arrivals is always printed. He saw at a +glance that it was not a man's card; the size was too large. +Then he turned it over before the light of the fire. The name +was engraved in script, an American fashion at this time. + +The woman's card had surprised him; but the name on it brought +him up in his chair - "Mrs. A. B. Farmingham." It was not a name +that he knew precisely; but he knew its genera, the family or +group to which it belonged. Mr. Jefferson removed titles of +nobility in the American republic, but his efforts did not +eliminate caste zones. It only made the lines of cleavage more +pronounced. One knew these zones by the name formation. +Everybody knew "Alfa Baba" Farmingham, as the Sunday Press was +accustomed to translate his enigmatical initials. Some wonderful +Western bonanza was behind the man. Mrs. "Alfa Baba" Farmingham +would be, then, one of the persons that Hargrave's house was +concerned to reach. He looked again at the card. In the corner +the engraved address, "Point View, Newport," was marked out with +a pencil and "The Ritz" written over it. + +He got his coat and hat and followed the steward out of the club. +There was a carriage at the curb. A footman was holding the door +open, and a woman, leaning over in the seat, was looking out. +She was precisely what Hargrave expected to see, one of those +dominant, impatient, aggressive women who force their way to the +head of social affairs in America. She shot a volley of +questions at him the moment he was before the door. + +"Are you Douglas Hargrave, the purchasing agent for Bartholdi & +Banks?" + +The man said that he was, and at her service, and so forth. But +she did not stop to listen to any reply. + +"You look mighty young, but perhaps you know your business. At +any rate, it's the best I can do. Get in." + +Hargrave got in, the footman closed the door, and the carriage +turned into Piccadilly Circus. The woman did not pay very much +attention to him. She made a laconic explanation, the sort of +explanation one would make to a shopkeeper. + +"I want your opinion on some jewels," she said. "I have a lot to +do - no time to fool away. When I found that I could see the +jewels to-night I concluded to pick you up on my way down. I +didn't find out about it in time to let you know." + +Hargrave told her that he would be very glad to give her the +benefit of his experience. + +"Glad, nonsense!" she said. "I'll pay your fee. Do you know a +jewel when you see it?" + +"I think I do, madam," he replied. + +She moved with energy. + +"It won't do to think," she said. "I have got to know. I don't +buy junk." + +He tried to carry himself up to her level with a laugh. + +"I assure you, madam," he said, "our house is not accustomed to +buy junk. It's a perfectly simple matter to tell a spurious +jewel." + +And he began to explain the simple, decisive tests. But she did +not listen to him. + +"I don't care how a vet knows that a hunter's sound. All that I +want to be certain about is that he does know it. I don't want +to buy hunters on my own hook. Neither do I want to buy jewels +on what I know about them. If you know, that's all I care about +it. And you must know or old Bartholdi wouldn't trust you. +That's what I'm going on." + +She was a big aggressive woman, full of energy. Hargrave could +not see her very well, but that much was abundantly clear. The +carriage turned out of Piccadilly Circus, crossed Trafalgar +Square and stopped before Blackwell's Hotel. Blackwell's has had +a distinct clientele since the war; a sort of headquarters for +Southeastern European visitors to London. + +When the carriage stopped Mrs. Farmingham opened the door +herself, before the footman could get down, and got out. It was +the restless American impatience always cropping out in this +woman. + +"Come along, young man," she said, "and tell me whether this +stuff is O. K. or junk." + +They got in a lift and went up to the top floor of the hotel. +Mrs. Farmingham got out and Hargrave followed her along the hall +to a door at the end of a corridor. He could see her now clearly +in the light. She had gray eyes, a big determined mouth, and a +mass of hair dyed as only a Parisian expert, in the Rue de la +Paix, can do it. She went directly to a door at the end of the +corridor, rapped on it with her gloved hand, and turned the latch +before anybody could possibly have responded. + +Hargrave followed her into the room. It was a tiny sitting room, +one of the inexpensive rooms in the hotel. There was a bit of +fire in the grate, and standing by the mantelpiece was, a big old +man with close-cropped hair and a pale, unhealthy face. It was +the type of face that one associates with tribal races in +Southeastern Europe. He was dressed in a uniform that fitted +closely to his figure. It was a uniform of some elevated rank, +from the apparent richness of it. There were one or two +decorations on the coat, a star and a heavy bronze medal. The +man looked to be of some importance; but this importance did not +impress Mrs. Farmingham. + +"Major," she said in her direct fashion, "I have brought an +expert to look at the jewels." + +She indicated Hargrave, and the foreign officer bowed +courteously. Then he took two candles from the mantelpiece and +placed them on a little table that stood in the center of the +room. + +He put three chairs round this table, sat down in one of them, +unbuttoned the bosom of his coat and took out a big oblong jewel +case. The case was in an Oriental design and of great age. The +embroidered silk cover was falling apart. He opened the case +carefully, delicately, like one handling fragile treasure. +Inside, lying each in a little pocket that exactly fitted the +outlines of the stone, were three rows of sapphires. He emptied +the jewels out on the table. + +"Sir," he said, speaking with a queer, hesitating accent, "it +saddens one unspeakably to part with the ancient treasure of +one's family." + +Mrs. Farmingham said nothing whatever. Hargrave stooped over the +jewels and spread them out on top of, the table. There were +twenty-nine sapphires of the very finest quality. He had never +seen better sapphires anywhere. He remembered seeing stones that +were matched up better; but he had never seen individual stones +that were any finer in anybody's collection. The foreigner was +composed and silent while the American examined the jewels. But +Mrs. Farmingham moved restlessly in her chair. + +"Well," she said, "are they O. K.?" + +"Yes, madam," said Hargrave; "they are first-class stones." + +"Sure?" she asked. + +"Quite sure, madam," replied the American. "There can be no +question about it." + +"Are they worth eighteen thousand dollars?" + +She put the question in such a way that Hargrave understood her +perfectly. + +"Well," he said, "that depends upon a good many conditions. But +I'm willing to say, quite frankly, that if you don't want the +jewels I'm ready to take them for our house at eighteen thousand +dollars." + +The big, dominant, aggressive woman made the gesture of one who +cracks a dog whip. + +"That's all right," she said. Then she turned to the foreigner. +"Now, major, when do you want this money?" + +The big old officer shrugged his shoulders and put out his hands. + +"To-morrow, madam; to-morrow as I have said to you; before midday +I must return. I can by no means remain an hour longer; my leave +of absence expires. I must be in Bucharest at sunrise on the +morning of the twelfth of October. I can possibly arrive if I +leave London to-morrow at midday, but not later." + +Mrs. Farmingham began to wag her head in a determined fashion. + +"Nonsense," she said, "I can't get the money by noon. I have +telegraphed to the Credit Lyonnais in Paris. I can get it by the +day after to-morrow, or perhaps to-morrow evening." + +The foreigner looked down on the floor. + +"It is impossible," he said. + +The woman interrupted him. + +"Now, major, that's all nonsense! A day longer can't make any +difference." + +He drew himself up and looked calmly at her. + +"Madam," he said, "it would make all the difference in the world. +If I should remain one day over my time I might just as well +remain all the other days that are to follow it." + +There was finality and conviction in the man's voice. Mrs. +Farmingham got up and began to walk about the room. She seemed +to speak to Hargrave, although he imagined that she was speaking +to herself. + +"Now this is a pretty how-de-do," she said "Lady Holbert told me +about this find to-night at dinner. She said Major Mikos wanted +the money at once; but I didn't suppose he wanted it cash on the +hour like that. She brought me right away after dinner to see +him. And then I went for you." She stopped, and again made the +gesture as of one who, cracks a dog whip. "Now what shall I do?" +she said. + +The last remark was evidently not addressed to Hargrave. It was +not addressed to anybody. It was merely the reflection of a +dominant nature taking counsel with itself. She took another +turn about the room. Then she pulled up short. + +"See here," she said, "suppose you take these jewels and give the +major his money in the morning. Then I'll buy them of you." + +"Very well, madam," said Hargrave; "but in that event we shall +charge you a ten per cent commission." + +She stormed at that. + +"Eighteen hundred dollars?" she said. "That's absurd, +ridiculous! I'm willing to pay you five hundred dollars." + +The American did not undertake to argue the matter with her. + +"We don't handle any sale for a less commission," he said. + +Then he explained that he could not act as any sort of agent in +the matter; that the only thing he could do would be to buy the +jewels outright and resell them to her. His house would not make +any sale for a less profit than ten per cent. Hargrave did not +propose to be involved in any but a straight-out transaction. He +was quite willing to buy the sapphires for eighteen thousand +dollars. There was five thousand dollars' profit in them on any +market. He was perfectly safe either way about. If Mrs. +Farmingham made the repurchase there was a profit of ten per +cent. If not, there was five thousand dollars' profit in the +bargain under any conditions. + +They were Siamese stones, and the cutting was of an old design. +They were not from any stock in Europe. Hargrave knew what +Europe held of sapphires. These were from some Oriental stock. +And everybody bought an Oriental stone wherever he could get it. +How the seller got it did not matter. Nobody undertook to verify +the title of a Siamese trader or a Burma agent. + +Mrs. Farmingham walked about for several minutes, saying over to +herself as she had said before: + +"Now what shall I do?" + +Then like the big, dominant, decisive nature that she was she +came to a conclusion. + +"All right," she said, "bring in the money in the morning and get +the sapphires. I'll take them up in a day or two. Good-by, +major; come along, Mr. Hargrave." And she went out of the room. + +The American stopped at the door to bow to the old Rumanian +officer who was standing up beside the table before the heap of +sapphires. They got into the carriage at the curb before +Blackwell's Hotel. Mrs. Farmingham put Hargrave down at the +Empire Club, and the carriage passed on, across Piccadilly Circus +toward the Ritz. + +The following morning Hargrave got the sapphires from Major +Mikos, and paid him eighteen thousand dollars in English +sovereigns for them. He wanted gold to carry back with him for +the jewels that he had brought out of the kingdom of Rumania. He +seemed a simple, anxious person. He wished to carry his +treasures with him like a peasant. The sapphires looked better +in the daylight. There ought to have been seven thousand +dollars' profit in them, perhaps more; seven thousand dollars, at +any rate, that very day in the London market. Hargrave took them +to the Empire Club and put them in a sealed envelope in the +steward's safe. + +The thin drift of yellow remained in the city; that sulphurous +haze that the blanket of sea fog, moving over London, presses +down into her streets. It was not heavy yet; it was only a mist +of saffron; but it threatened to gather volume as the day +advanced. + +At luncheon Hargrave got a note from Mrs. Farmingham, a line +scrawled on her card to say that she would call for him at three +o'clock. Her carriage was before the door on the stroke of the +hour, and she explained that the money to redeem the jewels had +arrived. The Credit Lyonnais had sent it over from Paris. She +seemed a bit puzzled about it. She had telegraphed the Credit +Lyonnais yesterday to send her eighteen thousand dollars. And +she had expected that the French banking house would have +arranged for the payment of the money through its English +correspondent. But its telegram directed her to go to the United +Atlantic Express Company and receive the money. + +A few minutes cleared the puzzle. The office of the company is +on the Strand above the Savoy. Mrs. Farmingham went to the +manager and showed him a lot of papers she had in an +official-looking envelope. After a good bit of official pother +the porters carried out a big portmanteau, a sort of heavy +leather traveling case, and put it into the carriage. Mrs. +Farmingham came to Hargrave where he stood by the door. + +"Now, what do you think!" she said. "Of all the stupid idiots, +give me a French idiot to be the stupidest; they have actually +sent me eighteen thousand dollars in gold!" + +"Well," said Hargrave, "perhaps you asked them to send you +eighteen thousand dollars in gold." + +She closed her mouth firmly for a moment and looked him vacantly +in the face. + +"What did I do?" she said, in the old manner of addressing an +inquiry to herself. "The major wanted gold and perhaps I said +gold. Why, yes, I must have said I wanted eighteen thousand +dollars in gold. Well, at any rate, here's the money to pay you +for the sapphires. I'll telegraph the Credit Lyonnais to send me +your eighteen hundred, and you can come around to the Ritz for it +in the morning." + +She wished Hargrave to see that the telegram was properly worded, +so the stupid French would not undertake to ship another bag of +coin to her. He wrote it out, so there could be no mistake, and +sent it from Charing Cross on the way back to the club. + +Hargrave had to get two porters to carry the leather portmanteau +into his room at the Empire Club. Mrs. Farmingham did not wait +to receive the sapphires. She said he could bring them over to +the Ritz after he had counted the money. She wanted a cup of +tea; he could come along in an hour. + +It took Hargrave the whole of the hour to verify the money. The +case had been shipped, the straps were knotted tight and the lock +was sealed. He had to get a man from the outside to break the +lock open. The man said it was an American lock and he hadn't +any implement to turn it. + +There were eighteen thousand dollars in American twenty-dollar +gold pieces packed in sawdust in the bag. The Credit Lyonnais +had followed Mrs. Farmingham's directions to the letter. Such is +the custom of the stupid French! She had asked for eighteen +thousand dollars in gold, and they had sent her eighteen thousand +dollars in gold. Hargrave put one of the pieces into his +waistcoat pocket. He wanted to show Mrs. Farmingham how +strangely the stupid French had made the blunder of doing +precisely what she asked. Then he strapped up the portmanteau, +pushed it under the bed, went out and locked the door. He asked +the chief steward to put a man in the corridor to see that no one +went into his room while he was out. Then he got the sapphires +out of the safe and went over to the Ritz. + +He met Mrs. Farmingham in the corridor coming out to her +carriage. + +"Ah, Mr. Hargrave," she said, "here you are. I just told the +clerk to call you up and tell you to bring the sapphires over in +the morning when you came for the draft. I promised Lady Holbert +last night to come out to tea at five. Forgot it until a moment +ago." + +She took Hargrave along out to the carriage and he gave her the +envelope. She tore off the corner, emptied the sapphires into +her hand, glanced at them, and dropped them loose into the pocket +of her coat. + +"Was the money all right?" she said. + +"Precisely all right," replied the American. "The Credit +Lyonnais, with amazing stupidity, sent you precisely what you +asked for in your telegram." And he showed her the twenty-dollar +gold piece. + +"Well, well, the stupid darlings!" Then she laughed in her big, +energetic manner. "I'm not always a fool. Come in the morning +at nine. Good-night, Mr. Hargrave." + +And the carriage rolled across Piccadilly into Bond Street in the +direction of Grosvenor Square and Lady Holbert's. + +The fog was settling down over London. Moving objects were +beginning to take on the loom of gigantic figures. It was +getting difficult to see. + +It must have taken Hargrave half an hour to reach the club. The +first man he saw when he went in was Sir Henry, his hands in the +pockets of his tweed coat and his figure blocking the passage. + +"Hello, Hargrave!" he cried. "What have you got in your room +that old Ponsford won't let me go up?" + +"Not nine hundred horses!" replied the American. + +The Baronet laughed. Then he spoke in a lower voice: + +"It's extraordinary lucky that I ran over to the Sorbonne. Come +along up to your room and I'll tell you. This place is filling +up with a lot of thirsty swine. We can't talk in any public room +of it." + +They went up the great stairway, lined with paintings of famous +colonials celebrated in the English wars, and into the room. +Hargrave turned on the light and poked up the fire. Sir Henry +sat down by the table. He took out his three newspapers and laid +them down before him. + +"My word, Hargrave," he said, "old Arnold is a clever beggar! He +cleared the thing up clean as rain." The Baronet spread the +newspapers out before him. + +"We knew here at the Criminal Investigation Department that this +thing was a cipher of some sort, because we knew about these +horses. We had caught up with this business of importing horses. +We knew the shipment was on the way as I explained to you. But +we didn't know the port that it would come into." + +"Well," said the American, "did you find out?" + +"My word," he cried, "old Arnold laughed in my face. 'Ach, +monsieur,' he cried, mixing up several languages, `it is Heidel's +cipher! It is explained in the seventeenth Criminal Archive at +Gratz. Attend and I will explain it, monsieur. It is always +written in two paragraphs. The first paragraph contains the +secret message, and the second paragraph contains the key to it. +Voila! This message is in two paragraphs: + +"'"P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on freight steamer Don +Carlos from N. Y. + +"'"Have the bill of lading handed over to our agent to check up" + +"'The hidden message is made up of certain words and capital +letters contained in the first paragraph, while the presence of +the letter t in the second paragraph indicates the words or +capital letters that count in the first. One has only to note the +numerical position of the letter t in the second paragraph in +order to know what capital letter or word counts in the first +paragraph.'" + +The Baronet took out a pencil and underscored the words in the +second paragraph of the printed cipher: "Have the bill of lading +handed over to our agent to check up." + +"You will observe that the second, the eighth and the eleventh +words in this paragraph begin with the letter t. Therefore, the +second, the eighth and the eleventh capital letters or words in +the first paragraph make up the hidden message." + +And again with his pencil he underscored the letters of the first +paragraph of the cipher: "P.L.A. shipped nine hundred horses on +freight steamer Don Carlos from N. Y." + +"So we get L, on, Don." + +"London!" cried Hargrave. "The nine-hundred horses are to come +into London!" + +And in his excitement he took the gold piece out of his pocket +and pitched it up. He had been stooping over the table. The fog +was creeping into the room. And in the uncertain light about the +ceiling he missed the gold piece and it fell on the table before +Sir Henry. The gold piece did not ring, it fell dull and heavy, +and the big Baronet looked at it openmouthed as though it had +suddenly materialized out of the yellow fog entering the room. + +"My word!" he cried. "One of the nine hundred horses!" + +Hargrave stopped motionless like a man stricken by some sorcery. + +"One of the nine hundred horses!" he echoed. + +The Baronet was digging at the gold piece with the blade of his +knife. + +"Precisely! In the criminal argot a counterfeit American +twenty-dollar gold piece is called a `horse.' + +"Look," he said, and he dug into the coin with his knife, "it's +white inside, made of Babbit metal, milled with a file and +gold-plated. Where did you get it?" + +The American stammered. + +"Where could I have gotten it?" he murmured. + +"Well," the Baronet said, "you might have got it from a big, old, +pasty-faced Alsatian; that would be 'Dago' Mulehaus. Or you +might have got it from an energetic, middle-aged, American woman +posing as a social leader in the States; that would be `Hustling' +Anne; both bad crooks, at the head of an international gang of +counterfeiters." + + + + +XII. The Spread Rails + + +It was after dinner, in the great house of Sir Henry Marquis in +St. James's Square. + +The talk had run on the value of women in criminal investigation; +their skill as detective agents . . . the suitability of the +feminine intelligence to the hard, accurate labor of concrete +deductions. + +It was the American Ambassadress, Lisa Lewis, who told the story. + + +It was a fairy night, and the thing was a fairy story. + +The sun had merely gone behind a colored window. The whole vault +of the heaven was white with stars. The road was like a ribbon +winding through the hills. In little whispers, in the dark +places, Marion told me it. We sat together in the tonneau of the +motor. It was past midnight, of a heavenly September. We were +coming in from a stately dinner at the Fanshaws'. + +A fairy story is a nice, comfortable human affair. It's about a +hero, and a thing no man could do, and a princess and a dragon. +It tells how the hero found the task that was too big for other +men, how he accomplished it, circumvented the dragon and won the +princess. + +The Arabian formula fitted snugly to the facts. + +The great Dominion railroad, extending from Montreal into New +York, was having a run of terrible luck; one frightful wreck +followed another. Nobody could get the thing straightened out. +Old Crewe, the railroad commissioner of New York, was relentless +in pressing hard conditions on the road. Then out of the West, +had come young Clinton Howard, big, tawny, virile, like the race +of heroes. He had cleaned out the tangles, set the thing going, +restored order and method; and the confidence of Canada was +flowing back. Then Howard had made love to Marion in his +persistent dominating fashion . . . . and here, with her +whispered confession, was the fairy story ended. + +Marion pointed her finger out north, where, far across the +valley, a great country-house sat on the summit of a wooded hill. + +"Clinton has discovered the Commissioner's secret, Sarah," she +said. "The safety of the public isn't the only thing moving old +Crewe to hammer the railroad. He pretends it is. But in fact he +wishes to get control of the road in a bankrupt court." + +She paused. + +"Crewe is a Nietzsche creature. Victory is the only thing with +him. Nothing else counts. The way the road was going he would +have got it in the bankrupt court by now. He's howling `safety +first' all over the country. `Negligence' is the big word in +every report he issues. It won't do for Clinton to have an +accident now that any degree of human foresight could have +prevented." + +"Well," I said, "the dragon will give the hero no further +trouble. Dr. Martin told mother to-day that Mr. Crewe's mind had +broken down, and they had brought him out from New York. He got +up in a directors' meeting and tried to kill the president of the +Pacific Trust Company, with a chair. He went suddenly mad, Dr. +Martin said." + +Marion put out her hands in an unconscious gesture. + +"I am not surprised," she said. "That sort of temperament in the +strain of a great struggle is apt to break down and attempt to +gain its end by some act of direct violence." + +Then she added: + +"My grandfather says in his work on evidence that the human mind +if dominated by a single idea will finally break out in some +bizarre act. And he cites the case of the minister who, having +maneuvered in vain to compass the death of the king by some sort +of accident, finally undertook to kill him with an andiron." + +She reflected a moment. + +"I am afraid," she continued, "that the harm is already done. +Crewe has set the whole country on the watch. Clinton says there +simply must not be a slip anywhere now. The road must be safe; +he must make it safe." She repeated her expression. + +"An accident now that any sort of human foresight could prevent +would ruin him." + +"Oh, dear, it's an awful strain on us . . . on him," she +corrected. "He simply can't be everywhere to see that everything +is right and everybody careful. And besides, there's the +finances of the road to keep in shape. He had to go to Montreal +to-day to see about that." + +She leaned over toward me in her eager interest. + +"I don't see how he can sleep with the thing on him. The big +trains must go through on time, and every workman and every piece +of machinery must be right as a clock. I get in a panic. I +asked him to-day if he thought he could run a railroad like that, +like a machine, everything in place on the second, and he said, +`Sure, Mike!'" + +I laughed. + +"`Sure, Mike,"' I said, "is the spirit in which the world is +conquered." + +And then the strange attraction of these two persons for one +another arose before me; this big, crude, virile, direct son of +the hustling West, and this delicate, refined, intellectual +daughter of New England. The ancestors of the man had been the +fighting and the building pioneer. And those of the girl, +reflective people, ministers of the gospel and counselors at law. +Marion's grandfather had been a writer on the law. Warfield on +Evidence, had been the leading authority in this country. And +this ambitious girl had taken a special course in college to fit +her to revise her grandfather's great work. There was no +grandson to undertake this labor, and she had gone about the task +herself. She would not trust the great book to outside hands. A +Warfield had written it, and a Warfield should keep the edition +up. Her revision was now in the hands of a publisher in Boston, +and it was sound and comprehensive, the critics said; the ablest +textbook on circumstantial evidence in America. I looked in a +sort of wonder at this girl, carried off her feet by a tawny +barbarian! + +Marion was absorbed in the thing; and I understood her anxiety. +But the most pressing danger, she did not seem to realize. + +It lay, I thought, in the revenge of a discharged workman. +Clinton Howard had to drop any number of incompetent persons, and +they wrote him all sorts of threatening letters, I had been told. +With all the awful things that happen over the country some of +these angry people might do anything. There are always some +half-mad people. + +She went on. + +"But Clinton says the public is as just as Daniel. If he has an +accident in the ordinary course of affairs the public will hold +him for it. But if anything should happen that he could not +help, the public will not hold him responsible." + +I realized the force of that. What reasonable human care could +prevent he must answer for, but the outrage of a criminal would +not be taken in the public mind against him. On the contrary, +the sympathy of the public would flow in. When the people feel +that a man is making every effort for their welfare, the criminal +act of an outsider brings them over wholly to his support. +Profound interest carried Marion off her feet. + +"I was in a panic the other day, and Clinton said, `Don't let +rotten luck get your goat. I'm done if an engineer runs by a +block, but nothing else can put it over on me'!" + +She laughed with me at the direct, virile idiom of young America +in action. + +An event interrupted the discourse. The motor took a sharp curve +and a young man running across the road suddenly flung himself +face down in the grass beyond the curb. + +"Is he hurt?" said Marion to the chauffeur. + +"No, Miss, he's hiding, Miss," said the man, and we swept out of +sight. + +I thought it more likely that the creature was in liquor. In +spite of the great country-houses, it was not good hunting-ground +for the criminal class, during the season when everybody was +about. The very number of servants, when a place is open, in a +rather effective way, police it. Besides the young man looked +like a sort of workman. One gets such impressions at a glance. + +The motor descended the long hill toward the river and the flat +valley. It hummed into the curves and hollows, through the +pockets of chill air, and out again into the soft September +night. + +Then finally it swept out into the flat valley, and stopped with +a grind of the emergency brake that caused the wheels to skid, +ripping up the dust and gravel. For a moment in the jar and +confusion we did not realize what had happened, then we saw a +great locomotive lying on its side, and a line of Pullmans, sunk +to the axles in the soft earth. + +The whole "Montreal Express" was derailed, here in the flat land +at the grade crossing. The thing had been done some time. The +fire had been drawn from the engine; there was only a sputtering +of steam. The passengers had been removed. A wrecking-car had +come up from down the line. A telegrapher was setting up a +little instrument on a box by the roadside. A lineman was +climbing a pole to connect his wire. A track boss with a torch +and a crew of men were coming up from an examination of the line +littered with its wreck. + +I hardly know what happened in the next few minutes. We were out +of the motor and among the men almost before the car stopped. + +No one had been hurt. The passenger-coaches were not turned +over, and the engineer and fireman had jumped as the cab toppled. +By the greatest good fortune the train had gone off the track in +this low flat land almost level with the grade. Several things +joined to avoid a terrible disaster; the flat ground that enabled +the whole train to plow along upright until it stopped, the track +lying flush with the highway where the engine went off, and the +fact that trains must slow up for this grade crossing. Had there +been an embankment, or a big ditch, or the train under its usual +headway the wreck would have been a horror, for every wheel, from +the engine to the last coach, had left the rails. + +We were an excited group around the train's crew, when the +trackman came up with his torch. Everybody asked the same +question as the man approached. + +"What caused the accident?" + +"Spread rails," he said. "These big brutes," he pointed to the +mammoth engine sprawling like a child's top on its side, the +gigantic wheels in the air, "and these new steel coaches, are +awful heavy. There's an upgrade here. When they struck it, +they just spread out the rails." + +And he pushed his closed hands out before him, slowly apart, in +illustration. + +The man knew Marion, for he spoke directly to her in reply to our +concerted query. Then he added "If you step down the track, Miss +Warfield, I'll show you exactly how it happened." + +We followed the big workman with his torch. Marion walked beside +him, and I a few steps behind. The girl had been plunged, on the +instant, headlong into the horror she feared, into the ruin that +she had lain awake over - and yet she met it with no sign, except +that grim stiffening of the figure that disaster brings to +persons of courage. She gave no attention to her exquisite gown. +It was torn to pieces that night; my own was a ruin. The +crushing effect of this disaster swept out every trivial thing. + +In a moment we saw how the accident happened, the workman +lighting the sweep of track with his torch. Here were the plow +marks on the wooden cross ties, where the wheels had run after +they left the rails. One saw instantly that the thing happened +precisely as the workman explained it. When the heavy engine +struck the up-grade, the rails had spread, the wheels had gone +down on the cross-ties, and the whole train was derailed. + +I saw it with a sickening realization of the fact. + +Marion took the workman's torch and went over the short piece of +track on which the thing had happened. All the evidences of the +accident were within a short distance. The track was not torn up +when the thing began. There was only the displaced rail pushed +away, and the plow marks of the wheels on the ties. The spread +rails had merely switched the train off the track onto the level +of the highway roadbed into the flat field. + +Marion and the workman had gone a little way down the track. I +was quite alone at the point of accident, when suddenly some one +caught my hand. + +I was so startled that I very nearly screamed. The thing +happened so swiftly, with no word. + +There behind me was a woman, an old foreign woman, a peasant from +some land of southern Europe. She had my hand huddled up to her +mouth. + +And she began to speak, bending her aged body, and with every +expression of respect. + +"Ah, Contessa, he is not do it, my Umberto. He is run away in +fear to hide in the Barrington quarry. It is accident. It is +the doing of the good God. Ah, Contessa," and her old lips +dabbed against my hand. "I beg him to not go, but he is +discharge; an' he make the threat like the great fool. Ah, +Contessa, Contessa," and she went over the words with absurd +repetition, "believe it is by chance, believe it is the doing of +the good God, I pray you." And so she ran on in her quaint +old-world words. + +Instantly I remembered the man lying by the roadside, and the +threats of discharged workmen. + +I told her the thing was a clean accident, and tried to show her +how it came about. She was effusive in gratitude for my belief. +But she seemed concerned about Marion and the others. She did +not go away; she went over and sat down beside the track. + +Presently the others returned. They were so engrossed that they +did not notice my adventure or the aged woman seated on the +ground. + +Marion was putting questions to the workman. + +"There was no obstruction on the track?" + +"No, Miss." + +"The engineer was watching?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield, he had to slow up and be careful about the +crossing. There is no curve on this grade, he could see every +foot of the way. The track was clear and in place, and he was +watching it. There was nothing on it. - The rails simply spread +under the weight of the engine." + +And he began to comment on the excessive size and weight of the +huge modern passenger engine. + +"The brute drove the rails apart," he said, "that's all there is +to it." + +"Was the track in repair?" said Marion. + +"It was patrolled to-day, Miss, and it was all in shape." + +Then he repeated: + +"The big engine just pushed the rails out." + +"But the road is built for this type of engine," said Marion. + +"Yes, Miss Warfield," replied the man, "it's supposed to be, but +every roadbed gets a spread rail sometimes." + +Then he added: + +"It has to be mighty solid to hold these hundred ton engines on +the rails at sixty miles an hour." + +"It does hold them," said Marion. + +"Yes, Miss Warfield, usually," said the man. + +"Then why should it fail here?" + +The man's big grimy face wrinkled into a sort of smile. + +"Now, Miss Warfield," he said, "if we knew why an accident was +likely to happen at one place more than another we wouldn't have +any wrecks." + +"Precisely," replied Marion, "but isn't it peculiar that the +track should spread at the synclinal of this grade with the train +running at a reduced speed, when it holds on the synclinal of +other grades with the train running at full speed?" + +The man's big face continued to smile. + +"All accidents are peculiar, Miss Warfield; that's what makes +them accidents." + +"But," said Marion, "is not the aspect of these peculiarities +indicatory of either a natural event or one designed by a human +intelligence?" + +The man fingered his torch. + +"Mighty strange things happen, Miss Warfield. I've seen a train +go over into a canal and one coach lodge against a tree that was +standing exactly in the right place to save it. And I've seen a +passenger engine run by a signal and through a block and knock a +single car out of a passing freight-train, at a crossing, and +that car be the very one that the freight train's brakeman had +just reached on his way to the caboose; just like somebody had +timed it all, to the second, to kill him. And I've seen a whole +wreck piled up, as high as a house, on top of a man, and the man +not scratched." + +"I do not mean the coincidence of accident," said Marion, "that +is a mystery beyond us; what I mean is that there must be an +organic difference in the indicatory signs of a thing as it +happens in the course of nature, and as it happens by human +arrangement." + +The trackman was a person accustomed to the reality and not the +theory of things. + +"I don't see how the accident would have been any different," he +said, "if somebody had put that tree in the right spot to catch +the coach; or timed the minute with a stop-watch to kill that +brakeman; or piled that wreck on the man so it wouldn't hurt him. +The result would have been just the same." + +"The result would have been the same," replied Marion, "but the +arrangement of events would have been different." + +"Just what way different, Miss Warfield?" said the man. + +"We cannot formulate an iron rule about that," replied Marion, +"but as a general thing catastrophes in nature seem to lack a +motive, and their contributing events are not forced." + +The big trackman was a person of sound practical sense. He knew +what Marion was after, but he was confused by the unfamiliar +terms in which the idea was stated. + +"It's mighty hard to figure out," he said. "Of course, when you +find an obstruction on the track or a crowbar under a rail, or +some plain thing, you know." + +Then he added: + +"You've got to figure out a wreck from what seems likely." + +"There you have it exactly," said Marion. "You must begin your +investigation from what your common experience indicates is +likely to happen. Now, your experience indicates that the rails +of a track sometimes spread under these heavy engines." + +"Yes, Miss Warfield." + +"And your experience indicates that this is more likely to happen +at the first rise of the synclinal on a grade than anywhere on a +straight track." + +"Yes, Miss Warfield." + +"Good!" said Marion, "so far. But does not your experience also +indicate that such an accident usually happens when the train is +running at a high rate of speed?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield," said the man. "It's far more likely to +happen then, because the engine strikes the rails at the first +rise of the grade with more force. Naturally a thing hits harder +when it's going . . . But it might happen with a slow train." + +Marion made a gesture as of one rejecting the man's final +sentence. + +"When you turn that way," she said, "you at once leave the lines +of greatest probability. Why should you follow the preponderance +of common experience on two features here, and turn aside from it +on the third feature?" + +"Because the thing happened," replied the man, with the +directness of those practical persons who drive through to the +fact. + +"That is to say an unlikely thing happened!" Marion made a +decisive gesture with her clenched fingers. "Thus, the inquiry, +beginning with two consistent elements, now comes up against one +that is inconsistent." + +"But not impossible," said the man. + +"Possible," said Marion, "but not likely. Not to be expected, +not in line with the preponderance of common experience; +therefore, not to be passed. We have got to stop here and try to +find out why this track spread under a slow train." + +"But we see it spread, Miss Warfield," said the trackman with a +conclusive gesture. + +"True," replied Marion, "we see that it did spread, under this +condition, but why?" + +The old woman sitting beside the track seemed to realize what was +under way; for she rose and came over to where I stood. +"Contessa," she whispered, in those quaint, old world words, "do +not reveal, what I have tol'. I pray you!" + +And she followed me across the few steps to where the others +stood. + +I did not answer. I stood like one in some Hellenic drama, +between two tragic figures. The love of woman lay in the +solution of this problem - in the beginning and at the end of +life. + +Marion and the big track boss continued with this woman looking +on. + +I feared to speak or move; the thing was like a sort of trap, set +with ghastly cunning, by some evil Fate. The ruin of a woman it +would have. And perhaps on the vast level plain where it evilly +dwelt, through its hard all-seeing eyes, the ruin and the sorrow +either way would be precisely equal. How could I, then, lay a +finger on the scale. + +"Now," said Marion, "when the engine reached this point on the +track, one of the rails gave way first." + +The big workman looked steadily at her. + +"How do you know that, Miss Warfield?" he said. + +"Because," replied Marion, "the marks of the wheels of the +locomotive on the ties are found, in the beginning, only on one +side of the track, showing that the rail on that side gave way, +when the engine struck it, and the other rail for some distance +bore the weight of the train." + +She illustrated with her hands. + +"When the one rail was pushed out, the wheels on that side went +down and continued on the ties, while the wheels on the other +side went ahead on the firm rail." + +The workman saw it. + +"That's true, Miss Warfield," he said, "one rail sometimes +spreads and the other holds solid." + +Marion was absorbed in the problem. + +"But why should the one rail give way like this and its companion +hold?" + +"One of the rails might not be as solid as the other," said the +man. + +"But it should have been nearly as solid," replied Marion. +"This piece of track, you tell me, was examined to-day; the ties +are equally sound on both sides, the rail is the same weight. We +have the right to conclude then that each of these rails was +about in the same condition. I do not say precisely in the same +condition. Now, it is true that under these conditions one of +the rails might have been pushed out of alignment before the +other. We can grant a certain factor of difference, a certain +reasonable factor of difference. But not a great factor of +difference. We have a right to conclude that one rail would give +way before the other. But not that one would very readily give +way before the other. For some reason this particular rail did +give way, much more readily than it ought to have done." + +The trackman was listening with the greatest interest. + +"Just how do you know that, Miss Warfield?" he said. + +"Why," replied Marion, "don't you see, from the mark on the ties, +that the engine wheels left the rail almost at the moment they +struck it. The marks of the wheels commence on the second tie +ahead of the beginning of the rail. Therefore, this rail, for +some reason, was more easily pushed out of alignment than it +should have been. What was the reason?" + +The track boss reflected. + +"You see, Miss Warfield, this place is the beginning of an +up-grade, the engine was coming down a long grade toward it, so +when this train struck the first rails of the up-grade it struck +it just like you'd drive in a wedge, and the hundred-ton brute of +an engine jammed this rail out of alignment. That's all there is +to it. When the rail sprung the wheels went down on the ties on +that side and the train was ditched." + +"It was a clean accident, then, you think?" said Marion. + +"Sure, Miss Warfield," replied the man. "If anybody had tried to +move that rail out of alignment, he would have to disconnect it +at the other end, that is, take off the plate that joins it to +the next rail. That would leave the end of the rail clean, with +no broken plate. But the end of the rail is bent and the plate +is twisted off. We looked at that the first thing. Nobody could +twist that plate off. The engine did it when it left the track. + +"You see, Miss Warfield, the weight of the engine, like a wedge, +simply forced one of these rails out of alignment. Don't you +understand how a hundred ton wedge driven against the track, at +the start of an upgrade, could do it?" + +The old peasant woman stood behind the track boss. The thing was +a sort of awful game. She did not speak, but the vicissitudes of +the inquiry advanced her, or retired her, with the effect of +points, won or lost. + +"I understand perfectly," replied Marion, "how the impact of the +heavy engine might drive both rails out of alignment, if they +offered an equal resistance, or one of them out if it offered a +less resistance. This is straight track. The wedge would go in +even. It should have spread the rails equally. That's the +probable thing. But instead it did the improbable thing; it +spread one. I hold the improbable thing always in question. +Human knowledge is built up on that postulate. + +"True, a certain factor of difference in conditions must be +allowed, as I have said, but an excessive factor cannot be +allowed. We have got to find it, or discard human reason as an +implement for getting at the truth." + +Again the big track boss smashed through the niceties of logic. + +"These things happen all the time, Miss Warfield. You can't +figure it out." + +"One ought to be able to determine it,"' replied the girl. + +The track boss shook his head. + +"We can't tell what made that rail give." + +"Of course, we can tell," said Marion. "It gave because it was +weakened." + +"But what weakened it?" replied the man. "You can't tell that? +The rail's sound." + +"There could be only two causes," said Marion. "It was either +weakened by a natural agency or a human agency." + +The track boss made an annoyed gesture, like a practical person +vexed with the refinements of a theorist. + +"But how are you going to tell?" + +"Now," said Marion, "there is always a point as you follow a +thing down, where the human design in it must appear, if there is +a human design in it. The human mind can falsify events within a +limited area. But if one keeps moving out, as from a center, he +will find somewhere this point at which intelligence is no longer +able to imitate the aspect of the result of natural forces . . . +I think we have reached it." + +She paused and drove her query at the track boss. + +"The spikes on the outside of this rail held it in place, did +they not?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield." + +"Did the impact of the engine force these spikes out of the +ties?" + +"Yes, Miss Warfield, it forced them out." + +"How do you know it forced them out?" + +"Well, Miss Warfield," said the man, pointing to the rail and the +denuded cross-ties, don't you see they're out?" + +"I see that they are out," replied Marion, "but I do not yet see +that they have been forced out." + +She moved a step closer to the track boss and her voice hardened. +"If these spikes were forced out by the impact of the engine, we +ought to find torn spike holes inclining toward the end of the +crossties. . . . Look!" + +The big practical workman suddenly realized what the girl meant. + +He stooped over and began to flash his torch along the end of the +ties. We crowded against him. Every one of the spike holes, for +the entire length of the rail, was straight and clean. The man +seized one of the spikes and scrutinized it under his torch. + +Then he stood up. For a moment he did not speak. He merely +looked at Marion. "It's the holy truth!" he said. "Somebody +pulled these spikes with a clawbar. That weakened the rail, and +she bowed out when the engine struck her." + +Then he turned around, and shouted down the track to his crew. +"Hey, boys! Spread out along the right of way and see if you +can't find a claw-bar. The devils that do these tricks always +throw away their tools." + +We stood together in a little tragic group. The old peasant +woman came over to where I stood, she walked with a dead, wooden +step. "Contessa," she whispered, her old lips against my hand. +"You will save him?" + +And suddenly with a wild human resentment, I longed to cut a way +out of the trap of this Fatality; to force its ruthless decree +into a sort of equity, if I could do it. + +"Yes," I said, "I will save him!" + +It was an impulse with no plan behind it. But the dabbing of the +withered mouth on my fingers was like actual physical contact +with a human heart. + +For a moment she looked at me as one among the damned might look +at Michael. Then she went slowly away, down through the wooded +copse of the meadow. And I turned about to meet Marion. I knew +that she was now after the identity of the wrecker, and I faced +her to foul her lines. + +"This is not the work of one with murder in his heart," she said +"A criminal agent set on a ruthless destruction of property and +life would have drawn these spikes on a trestle or an embankment, +at a point where the train would be running at high speed." + +She paused for a moment, then she went on speaking to me as +though she merely uttered her mental comment to herself. + +"These spikes are drawn at a point where the train slows down for +a crossing and precisely where the engine would go off onto the +hard road-bed of the highway into a level meadow. That means +some one planned this wreck to result in the least destruction of +life and property possible. Now, what class of persons could be +after the effect of a wreck, exclusive of a loss of life?" + +I saw where her relentless deductions would presently lead. This +was precisely the result that a discharged foreign workman would +seek in his reprisal. This man would have hot blood, the +southern Europe instinct for revenge, but with such a mother, no +mere lust to kill. I tried to divert her from the fugitive. + +"Train robbers," I said. "I wonder what was in the express-car?" + +She very nearly laughed. "This is New York," she said, "not +Arizona. And besides there was no express-car. This thing was +done by somebody who wanted the effect of a wreck, and nothing +else, and it was done by some one who knew about railroads. + +"Now, what class of persons who know about railroads could be +moved by that motive?" + +She was driving straight now at the boy I stood to cover. At +another step she would name the class. Discharged workmen would +know about railroads; they would be interested to show how less +efficient the road was without them; and a desperate one might +plan such a wreck as a demonstration. If so, he would wish only +the effect of the wreck, and not loss of life. Marion was going +dead ahead on the right line, in another moment she would +remember the man we passed, and the "black band" letters. I made +a final desperate effort to divert her. + +"Come along!" I called, "the first thing to do now is to talk +with Clinton Howard. The nearest telephone will be at Crewe's +house on the hill." + +And it won. + +"Lisa!" she cried, "you're right I We must tell him at once." + +We hurried down the track to the motor-car. I had gained a +little time. But how could I keep my promise. And the next +moment the problem became more difficult. The track boss came up +with a short iron bar that his men had found in the weeds along +the right of way. + +"There's the claw-bar, that the devil done it with," he said. + +"You can tell it's just been handled by the way the rust's rubbed +off." + +It was conclusive evidence. Everybody could see how the +workman's hands, as he labored with the claw-bar to draw the +spikes, had cleaned off the rust. + +I hurried the motor away. We raced up the long winding road to +Crewe's country-house, sitting like a feudal castle on the +summit. And I wondered, at every moment, how I could keep my +promise. The boy was a criminal, deserving to be hanged, no +doubt, but the naked mother's heart that had dabbed against my +fingers overwhelmed me. + +Almost in a flash, I thought, we were in the grounds and before +Crewe's house. Then I noticed lights and a confusion of voices. +No one came to meet us. And we got out of the motor and went in +through the open door. We found a group of excited servants. An +old butler began to stammer to Marion. + +"It was his heart, Miss . . . the doctor warned the attendants. +But he got away to-night. It was overexertion, Miss. He fell +just now as the attendants brought him in." And he flung open +the library door. + +On a leather couch illumined by the brilliant light, Crewe lay; +his massive relentless face with the great bowed nose, like the +iron cast of what Marion had called a Nietzsche creature, +motionless in death; his arms straight beside him with the great +gloved hands open. + +And all at once, at the sight, with a heavenly inspiration, I +kept my promise. + +"Look!" I cried. "Oh, everybody, how the palms of his gloves are +covered with rust!" + + + + +XIII. The Pumpkin Coach + + +The story of the American Ambassadress was not the only one +related on this night. + +Sir Henry Marquis himself added another, in support of the +contention of his guest . . . and from her own country. + + +The lawyer walked about the room. The restraint which he had +assumed was now quite abandoned. + +"That's all there is to it," he said. "I'm not trying this case +for amusement. You have the money to pay me and you must bring +it up here now, tonight." + +The woman sat in a chair beyond the table. She was young, but +she looked worn and faded. Misery and the long strain of the +trial had worn her out. Her hands moved nervously in the frayed +coat-cuffs. + +"But we haven't any more money," she said. "The hundred dollars +I paid you in the beginning is all we have." + +The man laughed without disturbing the muscles of his face. "You +can take your choice," he said. "Either bring the money up here +now, to-night, or I withdraw from the case when court opens in +the morning." + +"But where am I to get any more money?" the woman said. + +The lawyer was a big man. His hair, black and thin, was brushed +close to his head as though wet with oil; his nose was thick and +flattened at the base. The office contained only a table, some +chairs and a file for legal papers. Night was beginning to +descend. Lights were appearing in the city. The two persons had +come in from the Criminal Court after the session for the day had +ended. + +The woman seemed bewildered. She looked at the man with the +curious expression of a child that does not comprehend and is +afraid to ask for an explanation. + +"If we had any more money," she said, "I would bring it to you, +but the hundred dollars was all we had." + +Then she began to explain, reiterating minute details. When the +tragedy occurred and her husband was arrested by the police they +had a small sum painfully saved up. It was now wholly gone. +Like persons in profound misery, she repeated. The man halted +the recital with a brutal gesture. + +"I'll not discuss it," he said. "You can bring the money in here +before the court convenes in the morning, or I withdraw from the +case." + +He went over to the file, took out a packet of legal papers and +threw them on the table. + +"All right, my lady!" he said, "perhaps you think your husband +can get along without a lawyer. Perhaps you think the devil will +save him, or heaven, or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!" There +was biting irony in the bitter words. + +A sudden comprehension began to appear in the woman's face. She +realized now what the man was driving at. The expression in her +face deepened into a sort of wonder, a sort of horror. + +"You think he's guilty!" she said. "You think we got the money +and we're trying to keep it, to hide it." + +The lawyer turned about, put both hands on the table and leaned +across it. He looked the woman in the face. + +"Never mind what I believe; you heard what I said!" + +For a moment the woman did not move. Then she got up slowly and +went out. In the street she seemed lost. She remained for some +time before the entrance of the building. Night had now arrived. +Crowds of people were passing, intent on their affairs, +unconcerned. No one seemed to see the figure motionless in the +shadow of the great doorway. + +Presently the woman began to walk along the street in the crowd +without giving any attention to the people about her or to the +direction she was taking. She was in that state of mental coma +which attends persons in despair. She neither felt nor +appreciated anything and she continued to walk in the direction +in which the crowd was moving. + +Some block in the traffic checked the crowd and the woman +stopped. The block cleared and the human tide drifted on, but +the woman remained. The crowd edged her over to the wall and she +stood there before the shutter of a shop-window. After a time +the crowd passed, thinned and disappeared, but the woman remained +as though thrown out there by the human eddy. + +The woman remained for a long time unmoving against the shutter +of the shop-window. Finally she was awakened into life by a +voice speaking to her. It was a soft, foreign voice that lisped +the liquid accents of the occasional English words: + +"Ma pauvre femme!" it said; "come with me. Vous etes malade!" + +The woman followed mechanically in a sort of wonder. The person +who had spoken to her was young and beautifully dressed in furs +that covered her to her feet. She had gotten down from a +motorcar that stood beside the curb - one of those modern vehicles, +fitted with splendid trappings. + +Beyond the shop-window was a great cafe. The girl entered and +the woman followed. The attendants came forward to welcome the +splendid visitor as one whose arrival at this precise hour of the +evening had become a sort of custom. She gave some directions in +a language which the woman did not understand, and they were +seated at a table. + +The waiters brought a silver dish filled with a clear, steaming +soup and served it. The girl threw back her fur coat and the +dazed woman realized how beautiful she was. Her hair was yellow +like ripe corn and there were masses of it banked and clustered +about her head; her eyes were blue, and her voice, soft and +alluring, was like a friendly arm put around the heart. + +The miserable woman was so confused by this transformation - by +the sudden swing of the door in the wall that had admitted her +into this new, unfamiliar world - that she was never afterward +able to remember precisely by what introductory words her story +was drawn out. She found herself taken up, comforted and made to +tell it. + +Her husband had been a butler in the service of a Mr. Marsh, an +eccentric man who lived in one of the old downtown houses of the +city. He was a retired banker with no family. The man lived +alone. He permitted no servants in the house except the butler. +Meals were sent in on order from a neighboring hotel and served +by the butler as the man directed. He received few visitors in +the house and no tradespeople were permitted to come in. There +seemed no reason for this seclusion except the eccentricities of +the man that had grown more pronounced with advancing years. + +It was the custom of the butler to leave the house at eight +o'clock in the evening and return in the morning at seven. On +the morning of the third of February, when the butler entered the +house, as he was accustomed to do at eight o'clock in the +morning, he found his master dead. + +The woman continued with her narrative, speaking slowly. Every +detail was vividly impressed upon her memory and she gave it +accurately, precisely. + +There was a narrow passage or hall, not more than three feet in +width, leading from the butler's pantry into a little +dining-room. This dining-room the old man had fitted up as a +sort of library. It was farther than any other room from the +noises of the city. His library table was placed with one end +against the left wall of the room and he sat with his back toward +the passage into the butler's pantry. On the morning of the +third of February he was found dead in his chair. He had been +stabbed in the back, on the left side, where the neck joins to +the shoulder. A carving-knife had been used and a single blow +had accomplished the murder. + +It was known that on the evening before the old banker had taken +from a safety-deposit vault the sum of $20,000, which it was his +intention to invest in some securities. This money, in bills of +very large denominations, was in the top drawer on the right side +of the desk. The dead man had apparently not been touched after +the crime, but the drawer had been pried open and the money +taken. An ice-pick from the butler's pantry had been used to +force it. The assassin had left no marks, finger-prints or +tell-tale stains. The victim had been instantly killed with the +blow of the knife which lay on the floor beside him. + +The butler had been arrested, charged with the crime, and his +trial was now going on in the Criminal Court. Circumstantial +evidence was strong against him. The woman spoke as though she +echoed the current comment of the courtroom without realizing how +it affected her. She had done what she could. She had employed +an attorney at the recommendation of a person who had come to +interview her. She did not know who the person was nor why she +should have employed this attorney at his suggestion, except that +some one must be had to defend her husband, and uncertain what to +do, she had gone to the first name suggested. + +The girl listened, putting now and then a query. She spoke +slowly, careful to use only English words. And while the woman +talked she made a little drawing on the blank back of a menu +card. Now she began to question the woman minutely about the +details of the room and the position of the furniture where the +tragedy had occurred, the desk, the attitude of the dead man, the +location of the wound, and exact distances. And as the woman +repeated the evidence of the police officers and the experts, the +girl filled out her drawing with nice mathematical exactness like +one accustomed to such a labor. + +This was the whole story, and now the woman added the final +interview with the attorney. She made a sort of hopeless +gesture. + +"Nobody believes us," she said. "My husband did not kill him. +He was at home with me. He knew nothing about it until he found +his master dead at the table in the morning. But there is only +our word against all the lawyers and detectives and experts that +Mr. Thompson has brought against us." + +"Who is Mr. Thompson?" said the girl. She was deep in a study of +her little drawing. + +"He's Mr. Marsh's nephew, Mr. Percy Thompson." + +The girl, absorbed in the study of her drawing, now put an +unexpected question. + +"Has your husband lost an arm?" + +"No," she said, "he never had any sort of accident." + +A great light came into the girl's face. "Then I believe you," +she said. "I believe every word . . . . I think your husband is +innocent." + +The girl was aglow with an enthusiastic purpose. It was all +there in her fine, expressive face. + +"Now," she said, "tell me about this nephew, this Mr. Percy +Thompson. Could we by any chance see him?" + +"It won't do any good to see him," replied the woman. "He is +determined to convict my husband. Nothing can change him." + +The girl went on without paying any attention to the comment. +"Where does he live - you must have heard?" + +"He lives at the Markheim Hotel," she said. + +"The Markheim Hotel," repeated the girl. "Where is it?" + +The woman gave the street and number. The girl rose. "That's on +my way; we'll stop." + +The two-went out of the cafe to the motor. The whole thing, +incredible at any other hour, seemed to the woman like events +happening in a dream or in some topsy-turvy country which she had +mysteriously entered. + +She sat back in the tonneau of the motor, huddled into the +corner, a rug around her shoulders. The flashing lights seemed +those of some distant, unknown city, as though she were +transported into the scene of an Arabian tale. + +The motor stopped before a little shabby hotel in a neighboring +cross-street, and the footman, in livery beside the driver, got +down at a direction of the girl and went up the steps. In a few +moments a man came out and descended to the motor standing by the +curb. He was about middle age. He looked as though Nature had +intended him, in the beginning, for a person of some distinction, +but he had the dissipated face of one at middle age who had +devoted his years to a life of pleasure. There were hard lines +about his mouth and a purple network of veins showing about the +base of his nose. + +As he approached the girl, leaning out of the open window of the +tonneau, dropped her glove as by inadvertence. The man stooped, +recovered it and returned it to her. The girl started with a +perceptible gesture. Then she cried out in her charming voice + +"Merci, monsieur. I stopped a moment to thank you for the +flowers you sent me last night. It was lovely of you!" and she +indicated the bunch of roses pinned to her corsage. + +The man seemed astonished. For a moment he hesitated as though +about to make some explanation, but the girl went on without +regarding his visible embarrassment. + +"You shall not escape with a denial," she said. "There was no +card and you did not do me the honor to wait at the door, but I +know you sent them - an usher saw you; you shall not escape my +appreciation. You did send them?" she said. + +The man laughed. "Sure," he said, "if you insist." He was +willing to profit by this unexpected error, and the girl went on: + +"I have worn the roses to-day," she said, "for you. Will you +wear one of them to-morrow for me?" + +She detached a bud and leaned out of the door of the motor. She +pinned the bud to the lapel of the man's coat. She did it +slowly, deliberately, like one who makes the touch of the fingers +do the service of a caress. + +Then she spoke to the driver and the motor went on, leaving the +amazed man on the curb before the shabby Markheim Hotel with the +rosebud pinned to his coat - astonished at the incredible fortune +of this favor from an inaccessible idol about whom the city +raved. + +The woman accepted the enigma of this interview as she had +accepted the wonder of the girl's sudden appearance and the +other, incidents of this extraordinary night. She did not +undertake to imagine what the drawing on the menu meant, the +words about the one-armed man, the glove dropped for Thompson to +pick up, the rose pinned on his coat; it was all of a piece with +the mystery that she had stumbled into. + +When the motor stopped and she was taken through a little door by +an attendant into a theater box, she accepted that as another of +these things into which she could not inquire; things that +happened to her outside of her volition and directed by +authorities which she could not control. + +The staging of the opera refined and extended the illusion that +she had been transported out of the world by some occult agency. +The wonderful creature that had taken her up out of her abandoned +misery before the sordid shop-shutter appeared now in a fairy +costume glittering with jewels. And the gnomes, the monsters and +goblins appearing about her were all fabulous creatures, as the +girl herself seemed a fabulous creature. + +She sighed like one who must awaken from the splendor of a dream +to realities of which the sleeper is vaguely conscious. Only the +girl's voice seemed real. It seemed some great, heavenly reality +like the sunlight or the sweep of the sea. It filled the packed +places of the theater. She sang and one believed again in the +benevolence of heaven; in immortal love. To the distressed woman +effacing herself in the corner of the empty box it was all a sort +of inconceivable witch-work. + +And it was witch-work, as potent if not as amply fitted with +dramatic properties as the witchwork of ancient legend. + +The daughter of an obscure juge d'instruction of the Canton of +Vaud, singing in a Swiss meadow, had been taken up by a wealthy +American, traveling in Switzerland on an April morning-old, +enervated with the sun of the Riviera, and displeased with life. +And this rich old woman, her rheumatic fingers loaded with +jewels, had transformed the daughter of the juge d'instruction of +the Canton of Vaud into a singing wonder that made every human +creature see again the dreams of his youth before him leading +into the Elysian Fields. + +And to the girl herself this transformation also seemed the +wonder of witch-work. Her early life lay so far below in a world +remote and detached; a little house in a village of the Canton of +Vaud with the genteel poverty that attended the slender salary of +a juge d'instruction, and the weight of duties that accumulated +on her shoulders. Her father's life was given over to the labors +of criminal investigation, but it was a field that returned +nothing in the way of material gain. Honorable mention, a medal, +the distinction of having his reports copied into the official +archives, were the fruits of the man's life. She remembered the +minutely exhaustive details of those reports which she used to +copy painfully at night by the light of a candle. The old man, +absorbed by his deductions, with his trained habits of +observation and his prodigious memory, never seemed to realize +the drudgery imposed upon the girl by his endless dictation. + +"To-morrow," the heavenly creature had said softly, like a +caress, in the woman's ear when an attendant had taken her +through the little door into the empty box. But the to-morrow +broke with every illusion vanished. + +The woman sat beside her husband in the dismal court-room when +the court convened. The judge, old and tired, was on the bench. +A sulphurous, depressing fog entered from the city. The +court-room smelled of a cleaner's mop. The jury entered; and a +few spectators, who looked as though they might have spent the +night on the benches of the park out, side, drifted in. The +attorneys and the officials of the court were present and the +trial resumed. + +Every detail of the departed, evening was, to the woman, a mirage +except the brutal threat of the attorney, uttered before she had +gone down into the street. This threat, with that power of +reality which evil things seem always to possess, now +materialized. After the court had opened, but before the trial +could proceed, the attorney for the defendant rose and addressed +the court. + +He spoke for some moments, handling his innuendoes with skill. +His intent was to withdraw from the case. He realized that this +was an unusual procedure and that the course must be justified +upon a high ethical plane. He was a person of acumen and of no +inconsiderable skill and he succeeded. Without making any direct +charge, and disclaiming any intent to prejudice the prisoner and +his defense, or to deprive him of any safeguard of the law, he +was able to convey the impression that he had been misled in +undertaking the defense of the case; that his confidence in the +innocence of the accused had been removed by unquestionable +evidence which he had been led to believe did not exist. + +He made this explanation with profound regret. But he felt that, +having been induced to undertake the defense by representations +not justified in fact, and by an impression of the nature of the +case which developments in the court-room had not confirmed, he +had the right to step aside out of an equivocal position. He +wished to do this without injury to the prisoner and while there +was yet an opportunity for him to obtain other counsel. The +whole tenor of the speech was the right to be relieved from the +obligation of an error; an error that had involved him +unwittingly by reason of assurances which the developments of the +case had now set aside. And through it all there was the +manifest wish to do the prisoner no vestige of injury. + +After this speech of his attorney the conviction of the man was +inevitable. He sat stooped over, his back bent, his head down, +his thin hands aimlessly in his lap like one who has come to the +end of all things; like one who no longer makes any effort +against a destiny determined on his ruin. + +The thing had the overpowering vitality which evil things seem +always to possess, and the woman felt helpless against it; so +utterly, so completely helpless that it was useless to protest by +any word or gesture. She could have gotten up and explained the +true motive behind this man's speech; she could have repeated the +dialogue in his office; she could have asserted his unspeakable +treachery; but she saw with an unerring instinct that against the +skill of the man her effort would be wholly useless. With his +resources and his dominating cunning he would not only make her +words appear obviously false, but he would make them fasten upon +her a malicious intent to injure the man who had undertaken her +husband's defense; and somehow he would be able, she felt, to +divert the obliquity and cause it to react upon herself. + +This was all clear to her, and like some little trapped creature +of the wood that finds escape closed on every side and no longer +makes any effort, she remained motionless. + +The judge was an honorable man, concerned to accomplish justice +and not always misled by an obvious intent. The proceeding did +not please him, but he knew that no benefit, rather a continued +injury, would result to the prisoner by forcing the attorney to +go on with a case which it was evident that he no longer cared to +make any effort to support. He permitted the man to withdraw. +Then he spoke to the prisoner. + +"Have you any other counsel?" he asked. + +The prisoner did not look up. He replied in a low, almost +inaudible voice. + +"No, Your Honor," he said. + +"Then I shall appoint some one to go on with the case," and he +looked up over the docket before him and out at the few attorneys +sitting within the rail. + +It was at this moment that the woman, crying silently, without a +sound and without moving in her chair, heard behind her the voice +which she had heard the evening before, when, as now, at the +bottom of the pit, she stood before the shutter of the +shop-window. + +"Will it be necessary, monsieur le judge?" + +It was the same wonderful, moving, heavenly voice. Every sound +in the court-room suddenly ceased. All eyes were lifted. And +Thompson, sitting beside the district-attorney, saw, standing +before the rail in the court-room, the splendid, alluring +creature that had called him out of the sordid lobby of the Hotel +Markheim and entranced him with an evidence of her favor. +Unconsciously he put up his hand to feel for the bud in the lapel +of his coat. It had remained there - not, as it happened, from +her wish, but because he dare not lay the coat aside. + +In the interval of intense interest arising at the withdrawal of +the attorney from the case the girl had come in unnoticed. She +might have appeared out of the floor. Her voice was the first +indication of her presence. + +The judge turned swiftly. "What do you mean?" he said. + +"I mean, monsieur," she answered, "that if a man is innocent of a +crime, he cannot require a lawyer to defend him." + +The judge was astonished, but he was an old man and had seen many +strange events happen along the way of a criminal trial. + +"But why do you say this man is innocent," he said. + +"I will show you, monsieur," and she came around the railing into +the pit of the, court before his bench. She carried in her hand +the menu upon which, at the table in the cafe the night before, +she had made a drawing of the scene of the homicide. + +The extraordinary event had happened so swiftly that the attorney +for the prosecution had not been able to interpose an objection. +Now the nephew of the dead man spoke hurriedly, in whispers, and +the attorney arose. + +"I object to this irregular proceeding," he said. "If this +person is a witness, let her be sworn in the usual manner and let +her take her place in the witness-chair where she may be examined +by the attorney whom the court may see fit to appoint for the +defense." + +It was evident that Mr. Thompson, urging the prosecutor, was +alarmed. The folds of his obese neck lying above the collar of +his coat took on a deeper color, and his mouth visibly sagged as +with some unexpected emotion. He felt that he was becoming +entangled in some vast, invisible net spread about him by this +girl who had appeared as if by magic before the Hotel Markheim. + +The judge looked down at the attorney. "I will have the witness +sworn," he said, "but I shall not at present appoint anybody to +conduct an examination. When a prisoner before me has no +counsel, I sometimes look after his case myself." + +He spoke to the girl. "Will you hold up your hand?" he said. + +"Why, yes, monsieur," she said, "if you will also ask Mr. +Thompson to hold up his hand." + +"Do you wish him sworn as a witness?" said the judge. + +The girl hesitated. "Yes, monsieur," she said, "if that is the +way to have him hold up his hand." + +Again Thompson was disturbed. Again he spoke to the prosecutor +and again that attorney objected. + +"We have not asked to have Mr. Thompson testify in this case," he +said. "It is true Mr. Thompson is concerned about the result of +this trial. He is the nephew of the decedent and his heir. It +is only natural that he should properly concern himself to see +that the assassin is brought to justice." + +He spoke to the girl. "Do you wish to make Mr. Thompson your +witness?" he said. + +And again she replied with the hesitating formula: + +"Why, yes, monsieur, if that is the way to cause him to hold up +his hand." + +The judge turned to the clerk. "Will you administer the oath to +these two persons?" he said. + +Thompson rose. His face was disconcerted and slack. He +hesitated, but the prosecutor spoke to him. Then he faced the +judge and put up his hand. Immediately the girl cried out: + +"Look, monsieur," she said. "It is his left hand he is holding +up!" + +Immediately Thompson raised the other hand. "I beg your pardon, +Your Honor," he muttered. "I am left-handed; I sometimes make +that mistake." + +And again the girl cried out: "You see . . . you notice it . . . +it is true, then . . . he is left-handed." + +"I see he is left-handed," said the judge, "but what has that to +do with the case?" + +"Oh, monsieur," she said, "it has everything to do with it. I +will show you." + +She moved up on the step before the judge's bench and laid the +menu before him. The attorney for the prosecution also arose. +He wished to prevent this proceeding, to object to it, but he +feared to disturb the judge and he remained silent. + +"Monsieur," she said, "I have made a little drawing . . . I know +how such things are done . . . . My father was juge +d'instruction of the Canton of Vaud. He always made little +drawings of places where crimes were committed. . . . Here you +will see," and she put her finger on the card, "the narrow passage +leading from the butler's pantry into the dining-room used for a +library. You will notice, monsieur, that the writing-table stood +with one end against the wall, the left wall of the room, as one +enters from the butler's pantry. It is a queer table. One side +of it has a row of drawers coming to the floor and the other side +is open so one may sit with one's knees under it. On the night +of the tragedy this table was sitting at right angles to the left +wall, that is to say, monsieur, with this end open for the +writer's knees close up against the left wall of the room. That +meant, monsieur, that on this night Mr. Marsh was sitting at the +table with his back to the passage from the butler's pantry, +close up against the left wall of the room. + +"Therefore, monsieur," the girl went on, "the man who +assassinated Mr. Marsh entered from the butler's pantry. He +slipped into the room along the left wall close up behind his +victim . . . . Did it not occur so." + +This was the evidence of the police officials and the experts. +It was clear from the position of the desk in the room and from +the details of the evidence. + +"And, monsieur," she said, "will you tell me, is it true that the +stab wound which killed Mr. Marsh was in the shoulder on the side +next to the wall?" + +"Yes," said the judge, "that is true." + +The prosecutor, urged by Thompson, now made a verbal objection. +The case was practically completed. The incident going on in the +court-room followed no definite legal procedure and could not be +permitted to proceed. The judge stopped him. + +"Sit down," he said. He did not offer any explanation or +comment. He merely silenced the man and returned to the girl +standing eagerly on the step before the bench. + +"The wound was in the base of the man's neck at the top of the +left shoulder on the side next to the wall," he said. "But what +has this fact to do with the case?" + +"Oh, monsieur," she cried, "it has everything to do with it. If +the assassin who slipped along the wall had carried the knife in +his right hand, the wound would have been on the right side of +the dead man's neck. But if, monsieur, the assassin carried the +knife in his left hand, then the wound would be where it is, on +the left side. That made me believe, at first, that the assassin +had only one arm - had lost his right arm - and must use the +other; then, a little later, I understood . . . . Oh, monsieur, +don't you understand; don't you see that the assassin who stabbed +Mr. Marsh was left-handed?" + +In a moment it was all clear to everybody. Only a left-handed +man could have committed the crime, for only a left-handed man +standing close against the left side of a room above one sitting +at a desk against that wall could have struck straight down into +the left shoulder of the murdered man. A right-handed assassin +would have struck straight down into the right shoulder, he would +not have risked a doubtful blow, delivered awkwardly across his +body, into the left shoulder of his victim. + +The girl indicated Thompson with her hand. "He did it; he's +left-handed. I found out by dropping my glove." + +Panic enveloped the cornered man. He began to shake as with an +ague. Sweat like a thin oil spread over his debauched face and +the folds of his obese neck. With his fatal left hand he began +to finger the lapel of his coat where the faded rosebud hung +pinned into the buttonhole. And the girl's voice broke the +profound silence of the court-room. + +"He has the money, too," she said. "I felt a bulky packet when I +gave him the flower out of my bouquet last night." + +The big, thin-haired lawyer, leaving the courtroom after his +withdrawal from the case, stopped at a window arrested by the +amazing scene: The police taking the stolen money out of +Thompson's pocket; the woman in the girl's arms, and the +transfigured prisoner standing up as in the presence of a +heavenly angel. This before him . . . and the splendid motor +below under the sweep of the window, waiting before the +courthouse door, brought back the memory of his biting, sarcastic +words: + +". . . or Cinderella in a pumpkin coach!" + +And there occurred to him a doubt of the exclusive dominance of +life by the gods he served. + + + + +XIV. The Yellow Flower + + +The girl sat in a great chair before the fire, huddled, staring +into the glow of the smoldering logs. + +Her dark hair clouded her face. The evening gown was twisted and +crumpled about her. There was no ornament on her; her arms, her +shoulders, the exquisite column of her throat were bare. + +She sat with her eyes wide, unmoving, in a profound reflection. + +The library was softly lighted; richly furnished, a little beyond +the permission of good taste. On a table at the girl's elbow +were two objects; a ruby necklace, and a dried flower. The +flower, fragile with age, seemed a sort of scrub poppy of a +delicate yellow; the flower of some dwarfed bush, prickly like a +cactus. + +The necklace made a great heap of jewels on the buhl top of the +table, above the intricate arabesque of silver and +tortoise-shell. + +It was nearly midnight. Outside, the dull rumble of London +seemed a sound, continuous, unvarying, as though it were the +distant roar of a world turning in some stellar space. + +It was a great old house in Park Lane, heavy and of that gloomy +architecture with which the feeling of the English people, at an +earlier time, had been so strangely in accord. It stood before +St. James's Park oppressive and monumental, and now in the midst +of yellow fog its heavy front was like a mausoleum. + +But within, the house had been treated to a modern re-casting, +not entirely independent of the vanity of wealth. + +After the dinner at the Ritz, the girl felt that she could not go +on; and Lady Mary's party, on its way to the dancing, put her +down at the door. She gave the excuse of a crippling headache. +But it was a deeper, more profound aching that disturbed her. +She was before the tragic hour, appearing in the lives of many +women, when suddenly, as by the opening of a door, one realizes +the irrevocable aspect of a marriage of which the details are +beginning to be arranged. That hour in which a woman must +consider, finally, the clipping of all threads, except the single +one that shall cord her to a mate for life. + +Until to-night, in spite of preparations on the way, the girl had +not felt this marriage as inevitable. Her aunt had pressed for +it, subtly, invisibly, as an older woman is able to do. + +Her situation was always, clearly before her. She was alone in +the world; with very little, almost nothing. The estate her +father inherited he had finally spent in making great +explorations. There was no unknown taste of the world that he +had not undertaken to enter. The final driblets of his fortune +had gone into his last adventure in the Great Gobi Desert from +which he had never returned. + +The girl had been taken by this aunt in London, incredibly rich, +but on the fringes of the fashionable society of England, which +she longed to enter. Even to the young girl, her aunt's plan was +visible. With a great settlement, such as this ambitious woman +could manage, the girl could be a duchess. + +The marriage to Lord Eckhart in the diplomatic service, who would +one day be a peer of England, had been a lure dangled +unavailingly before her, until that night, when, on his return +from India, he had carried her off her feet with his amazing +incredible sacrifice. It was the immense idealism, the immense +romance of it that had swept her into this irrevocable thing. + +She got up now, swiftly, as though she would again realize how +the thing had happened and stooped over the table above the heap +of jewels. They were great pigeon-blood rubies, twenty-seven of +them, fastened together with ancient crude gold work. She lifted +the long necklace until it hung with the last jewel on the table. + +The thing was a treasure, an immense, incredible treasure. And +it was for this - for the privilege of putting this into her +hands, that the man had sold everything he had in England - and +endured what the gossips said - endured it during the five years +in India - kept silent and was now silent. She remembered every +detail the rumor of a wild life, a dissolute reckless life, the +gradual, piece by piece sale of everything that could be turned +into money. London could not think of a ne'er-do-well to equal +him in the memory of its oldest gossips - and all the time with +every penny, he was putting together this immense treasure - for +her. A dreamer writing a romance might imagine a thing like +this, but had it any equal in the realities of life? + +She looked down at the chain of great jewels, and the fragment of +prickly shrub with its poppy-shaped yellow flower. They were +symbols, each, of an immense idealism, an immense conception of +sacrifice that lifted the actors in their dramas into gigantic +figures illumined with the halos of romance. + +Until to-night it had been this ideal figure of Lord Eckhart that +the girl considered in this marriage. And to-night, suddenly, +the actual physical man had replaced it. And, alarmed, she had +drawn back. Perhaps it was the Teutonic blood in him - a +grandmother of a German house. And, yet, who could say, perhaps +this piece of consuming idealism was from that ancient extinct +Germany of Beethoven. + +But the man and the ideal seemed distinct things having no +relation. She drew back from the one, and she stood on tip-toe, +with arms extended longingly toward the other. + +What should she do? + +Had the example of her father thrown on Lord Eckhart a golden +shadow? She moved the bit of flower, gently as in a caress. He +had given up the income of a leading profession and gone to his +death. His fortune and his life had gone in the same high +careless manner for the thing he sought. For the treasure that +he believed lay in the Gobi Desert - not for himself, but for +every man to be born into the world. He was the great dreamer, +the great idealist, a vague shining figure before the girl like +the cloud in the Hebraic Myth. + +The girl stood up and linked her fingers together behind her +back. If her father were only here - for an hour, for a moment! +Or if, in the world beyond sight and hearing, he could somehow +get a message to her! + +At this moment a bell, somewhere in the deeps of the house, +jangled, and she heard the old butler moving through the hall to +the door. The other servants had been dismissed for the night, +and her aunt on the preliminaries of this marriage was in Paris. + +A moment later the butler appeared with a card on his tray. It +was a card newly engraved in some English shop and bore the name +"Dr. Tsan-Sgam." The girl stood for a moment puzzled at the +queer name, and then the memory of the strange outlandish human +creatures, from the ends of the world, who used sometimes to +visit her father, in the old time, returned, and with it there +came a sudden upward sweep of the heart - was there an answer to +her longing, somehow, incredibly on the way! + +She gave a direction for the visitor to be brought in. He was a +big old man. His body looked long and muscular like that of some +type of Englishmen, but his head and his features were Mongolian. +He was entirely bald, as bald as the palm of a hand, as though +bald from his mother he had so remained to this incredible age. +And age was the impression that he profoundly presented. But it +was age that a tough vitality in the man resisted; as though the +assault of time wore it down slowly and with almost an +imperceptible detritus. The great naked head and the wide +Mongolian face were unshrunken; they presented, rather, the +aspect of some old child. He was dressed with extreme care, in +the very best evening clothes that one could buy in a London +shop. + +He bowed, oddly, with a slow doubling of the body, and when he +spoke the girl felt that he was translating his words through +more than one language; as though one were to put one's sentences +into French or Italian and from that, as a sort of intermediary, +into English - as though the way were long, and unfamiliar from +the medium in which the man thought to the one in which he was +undertaking to express it. But at the end of this involved +mental process his English sentences appeared correctly, and with +an accurate selection in the words. + +"You must pardon the hour, Miss Carstair," he said, in his slow, +precise articulation, "but I am required to see you and it is the +only time I have." + +Then his eyes caught the necklace on the table, and advancing +with two steps he stooped over it. + +For a moment everything else seemed removed, from about the man. +His angular body, in its unfamiliar dress, was doubled like a +finger; his great head with its wide Mongolian face was close +down over the buhl top of the table and his finger moved the heap +of rubies. + +The girl had a sudden inspiration. + +"Lord Eckhart got these jewels from you?" + +The man paused, he seemed to be moving the girl's words backward +through the intervening languages. + +Then he replied. + +"Yes," he said, "from us." + +The girl's inspiration was now illumined by a further light. + +"And you have not been paid for them?" + +The man stood up now. And again this involved process of moving +the words back through various translations was visible - and the +answer up. + +"Yes - " he said, "we have been paid." + +Then he added, in explanation of his act. + +"These rubies have no equal in the world - and the gold-work +attaching them together is extremely old. I am always curious to +admire it." + +He looked down at the girl, at the necklace, at the space about +them, as though he were deeply, profoundly puzzled. + +"We had a fear," he said, " - it was wrong!" + +Then he put his hand swiftly into the bosom pocket of his evening +coat, took out a thin packet wrapped in a piece of vellum and +handed it to the girl. + +"It became necessary to treat with the English Government about +the removal of records from Lhassa and I was sent - I was +directed to get this packet to you from London. To-night, at +dinner with Sir Henry Marquis in St. James's Square, I learned +that you were here. I had then only this hour to come, as my +boat leaves in the morning." He spoke with the extreme care of +one putting together a delicate mosaic. + +The girl stood staring at the thin packet. A single thought +alone consumed her. + +"It is a message from - my - father." + +She spoke almost in a whisper. + +The big Oriental replied immediately. + +"No," he said, "your father is beyond sight and hearing." + +The girl had no hope; only the will to hope. The reply was +confirmation of what she already knew. She removed the thin +vellum wrapper from the packet. Within she found a drawing on a +plate of ivory. It represented a shaft of some white stone +standing on the slight elevation of what seemed to be a barren +plateau. And below on the plate, in fine English characters like +an engraving, was the legend, "Erected to the memory of Major +Judson Carstair by the monastery at the Head." + +The man added a word of explanation. + +"The Brotherhood thought that you would wish to know that your +father's body had been recovered, and that it had received +Christian burial, as nearly as we were able to interpret the +forms. The stone is a sort of granite." + +The girl wished to ask a thousand questions: How did her father +meet his death, and where? What did they know? What had they +recovered with his body? + +The girl spoke impulsively, her words crowding one another. And +the Oriental seemed able only to disengage the last query from +the others. + +"Unfortunately," he said, "some band of the desert people had +passed before our expedition arrived, nothing was recovered but +the body. It was not mutilated." + +They had been standing. The girl now indicated the big library +chair in which she had been huddled and got another for herself. +Then she wished to know what they had learned about her father's +death. + +The Oriental sat down. He sat awkwardly, his big body, in a kind +of squat posture, the broad Mongolian face emerging, as in a sort +of deformity, from the collar of his evening coat. Then he began +to speak, with that conscious effect of bringing his words +through various mediums from a distance. + +"We endeavored to discourage Major Carstair from undertaking this +adventure. We were greatly concerned about his safety. The +sunken plateau of the Gobi Desert, north of the Shan States, is +exceedingly dangerous for an European, not so much on account of +murderous attacks from the desert people, for this peril we could +prevent; but there is a chill in this sunken plain after sunset +that the native people only can resist. No white man has ever +crossed the low land of the Gobi." + +He paused. + +"And there is in fact no reason why any one should wish to cross +it. It is absolutely barren. We pointed out all this very +carefully to Major Carstair when we learned what he had in plan, +for as I have said his welfare was very pressingly on our +conscience. We were profoundly puzzled about what he was seeking +in the Gobi. He was not, evidently, intending to plot the region +or to survey any route, or to acquire any scientific data. His +equipment lacked all the implements for such work. It was a long +time before we understood the impulse that was moving Major +Carstair to enter this waste region of the Gobi to the north." + +The man stopped, and sat for some moments quite motionless. + +"Your father," he went on, "was a distinguished man in one of the +departments of human endeavor which the East has always +neglected; and in it he had what seemed to us incredible skill - +with ease he was able to do things which we considered +impossible. And for this reason the impulse taking him into the +Gobi seemed entirely incredible to us; it seemed entirely +inconsistent with this special ability which we knew the man to +possess; and for a long time we rejected it, believing ourselves +to be somehow misled." + +The girl sat straight and silent, in her chair near the brass +fender to the right of the buhl table; the drawing, showing the +white granite shaft, held idly in her fingers; the illuminated +vellum wrapper fallen to the floor. + +The man continued speaking slowly. + +"When, finally, it was borne in upon us that Major Carstair was +seeking a treasure somewhere on the barren plateau of the Gobi, +we took every measure, consistent with a proper courtesy, to show +him how fantastic this notion was. We had, in fact, to exercise +a certain care lest the very absurdity of the conception appear +too conspicuously in our discourse." + +He looked across the table at the girl. + +The man's great bald head seemed to sink a little into his +shoulders, as in some relaxation. + +"We brought out our maps of the region and showed him the old +routes and trails veining the whole of it. We explained the +topography of this desert plateau; the exact physical character +of its relief. There was hardly a square mile of it that we did +not know in some degree, and of which we did not possess some +fairly accurate data. It was entirely inconceivable that any +object of value could exist in this region without our knowledge +of it." + +The man was speaking like one engaged in some extremely delicate +mechanical affair, requiring an accuracy almost painful in its +exactness. + +"Then, profoundly puzzled, we endeavored to discover what data +Major Carstair possessed that could in any way encourage him in +this fantastic idea. It was a difficult thing to do, for we held +him in the highest esteem and, outside of this bizarre notion, we +had before us, beyond any question, the evidence of his especial +knowledge; and, as I have said, his, to us, incredible skill." + +He paused, as though the careful structure of the long sentence +had fatigued him. + +"Major Carstair's explanations were always in the imagery of +romance. He sought `a treasure - a treasure that would destroy a +Kingdom.' And his indicatory data seemed to be the dried blossom +of our desert poppy." + +Again the Oriental paused. He put up his hand and passed his +fingers over his face. The gaunt hand contrasted with the full +contour. + +"I confess that we did not know what to do. We realized that we +had to deal with a nature possessing in one direction the exact +accurate knowledge of a man of science, and in another the wonder +extravagances of a child. The Dalai Lama was not yet able to be +consulted, and it seemed to us a better plan to say no more about +the impossible treasure, and address our endeavors to the +practical side of Major Carstair's intelligence instead. We now +pointed out the physical dangers of the region. The deadly chill +in it coming on at sunset could not fail to inflame the lungs of +a European, accustomed to an equable temperature, fever would +follow; and within a few days the unfortunate victim would find +his whole breathing space fatally congested." + +The man removed his hand. The care in his articulation was +marked. + +"Major Carstair was not turned aside by these facts, and we +permitted him to go on." + +Again he paused as though troubled by a memory. + +"In this course," he continued, "the Dalai Lama considered us to +have acted at the extreme of folly. But it is to be remembered, +in our behalf, that somewhat of the wonder at Major Carstair's +knowledge of Western science dealing with the human body was on +us, and we felt that perhaps the climatic peril of the Gobi might +present no difficult problem to him. + +"We were fatally misled." + +Then he added. + +"We were careful to direct him along the highest route of the +plateau, and to have his expedition followed. But chance +intervened. Major Carstair turned out of the route and our +patrol went on, supposing him to be ahead on the course which we +had indicated to him. When the error was at last discovered, our +patrol was entering the Sirke range. No one could say at what +point on the route Major Carstair had turned out, and our search +of the vast waste of the Gobi desert began. The high wind on the +plateau removes every trace of human travel. The whole of the +region from the Sirke, south, had to be gone over. It took a +long time." + +The man stopped like one who has finished a story. The girl had +not moved; her face was strained and white. The fog outside had +thickened; the sounds of the city seemed distant. The girl had +listened without a word, without a gesture. Now she spoke. + +"But why were you so concerned about my father?" + +The big Oriental turned about in the chair. He looked steadily +at the girl, he seemed to be treating the query to his involved +method of translation; and Miss Carstair felt that the man, +because of this tedious mental process, might have difficulty to +understand precisely what she meant. + +What he wished to say, he could control and, therefore, could +accurately present - but what was said to him began in the +distant language. + +"What Major Carstair did," he said, "it has not been made clear +to you?" + +"No," she replied, "I do not understand." + +The man seemed puzzled. + +"You have not understood!" + +He repeated the sentence; his face reflective, his great bare +head settling into the collar of his evening coat as though the +man's neck were removed. + +He remained for a moment thus puzzled and reflective. Then he +began to speak as one would set in motion some delicate involved +machinery running away into the hidden spaces of a workshop. + +"The Dalai Lama had fallen - he was alone in the Image Room. His +head striking the sharp edge of a table was cut. He had lost a +great deal of blood when we found him and was close to death. +Major Carstair was at this time approaching the monastery from +the south; his description sent to us from Lhassa contained the +statement that he was an American surgeon. We sent at once +asking him to visit the Dalai Lama, for the skill of Western +people in this department of human knowledge is known to us." + +The Oriental went on, slowly, with extreme care. + +"Major Carstair did not at once impress us. `What this man +needs,' he said, `is blood.' That was clear to everybody. One +of our, how shall I say it in your language, Cardinals, replied +with some bitterness, that the Dalai Lama could hardly be +imagined to lack anything else. Major Carstair paid no attention +to the irony. `This man must have a supply of blood,' he added. +The Cardinal, very old, and given to imagery in his discourse +answered, that blood could be poured out but it could not be +gathered up . . . and that man could spill it but only God could +make. + +"We interrupted then, for Major Carstair was our guest and +entitled to every courtesy, and inquired how it would be possible +to restore blood to the Dalai Lama; it was not conceivable that +the lost blood could be gathered up. + +"He explained then that he would transfer it from the veins of a +healthy man into the unconscious body." + +The Oriental hesitated; then he went on. + +"The thing seemed to us fantastic. But our text treating the +life of the Dalai Lama admits of no doubt upon one point - `no +measure presenting itself in extremity can be withheld.' He was +in clear extremity and this measure, even though of foreign +origin, had presented itself, and we felt after a brief +reflection that we were bound to permit it." + +He added. + +"The result was a miracle to us. In a short time the Dalai Lama +had recovered. But in the meantime Major Carstair had gone on +into the Gobi seeking the fantastic treasure." + +The girl turned toward the man, a wide-eyed, eager, lighted face. + +"Do you realize," she said, "the sort of treasure that my father +sacrificed his life to search for?" + +The Oriental spoke slowly. + +"It was to destroy a Kingdom," he said. + +"To destroy the Kingdom of Pain!" She replied, "My father was +seeking an anesthetic more powerful than the derivatives of +domestic opium. He searched the world for it. In the little, +wild desert flower lay, he thought, the essence of this treasure. +And he would seek it at any cost. Fortune was nothing; life was +nothing. Is it any wonder that you could not stop him? A +flaming sword moving at the entrance to the Gobi could not have +barred him out!" + +The big Oriental made a vague gesture as of one removing +something clinging to his face. + +"Wherefore this blindness?" he said. + +The girl had turned away in an effort to control the emotion that +possessed her. But the task was greater than her strength; when +she came back to the table tears welled up in her eyes and +trickled down her face. Emotion seemed now to overcome her. + +"If my father were only here," her voice was broken, "if he were +only here!" + +The big Oriental moved his whole body, as by one motion, toward +her. The house was very still; there was only the faint +crackling of the logs on the fire. + +"We had a fear," he said. "It remains!" + +The girl went over and stood before the fire, her foot on the +brass fender, her fingers linked behind her back. For sometime +she was silent. Finally she spoke, without turning her head, in +a low voice. + +"You know Lord Eckhart?" + +A strange expression passed over the Oriental's face. + +"Yes, when Lhassa was entered, the Head moved north to our +monastery on the edge of the Gobi - the English sovereignty +extends to the Kahn line. Lord Eckhart was the political agent +of the English government in the province nearest to us." + +When the girl got up, the Oriental also rose. He stood +awkwardly, his body stooped; his hand as for support resting on +the corner of the table. The girl spoke again, in the same +posture. Her face toward the fire. + +"How do you feel about Lord Eckhart?" + +"Feel!" The man repeated the word. + +He hesitated a little. + +"We trusted Lord Eckhart. We have found all English honorable." + +"Lord Eckhart is partly German," the girl went on. + +The man's voice in reply was like a foot-note to a discourse. + +"Ah!" He drawled the expletive as though it were some Oriental +word. + +The girl continued. "You have perhaps heard that a marriage is +arranged between us." + +Her voice was steady, low, without emotion. + +For a long time there was utter silence in the room. + +Then, finally, when the Oriental spoke his voice had changed. It +was gentle, and packed with sympathy. It was like a voice within +the gate of a confessional. + +"Do you love him?" it said. + +"I do not know." + +The vast sympathy in the voice continued. "You do not know? - it +is impossible! Love is or it is not. It is the longing of +elements torn asunder, at the beginning of things, to be +rejoined." + +The girl turned swiftly, her body erect, her face lifted. + +"But this great act," she cried. "My father, I, all of our +blood, are moved by romance - by the romance of sacrifice. Look +how my father died seeking an antidote for the pain of the world. +How shall I meet this sacrifice of Lord Eckhart?" + +Something strange began to dawn in the wide Mongolian face. + +"What sacrifice?" + +The girl came over swiftly to the table. She scattered the mass +of jewels with a swift gesture. + +"Did he not give everything he possessed, everything piece by +piece, for this?" + +She took the necklace up and twisted it around her fingers. Her +hands appeared to be a mass of rubies. + +A great light came into the Oriental's face. + +"The necklace," he said, "is a present to you from the Dalai +Lama. It was entrusted to Lord Eckhart to deliver." + + + + +XV. Satire of the Sea + +"What was the mystery about St. Alban?" I asked. + +The Baronet did not at once reply. He looked out over the +English country through the ancient oak-trees, above the sweep of +meadow across the dark, creeping river, to the white shaft rising +beyond the wooded hills into the sky. + +The war was over. I was a guest of Sir Henry Marquis for a +week-end at his country-house. The man fascinated me. He seemed +a sort of bottomless Stygian vat of mysteries. He had been the +secret hand of England for many years in India. Then he was made +a Baronet and put at the head of England's Secret Service at +Scotland Yard. + +A servant brought out the tea and we were alone on the grass +terrace before the great oak-trees. He remained for some moments +in reflection, then he replied: + +"Do you mean the mystery of his death?" + +"Was there any other mystery?" I said. + +He looked at me narrowly across the table. + +"There was hardly any mystery about his death," he said. "The +man shot himself with an old dueling pistol that hung above the +mantel in his library. The family, when they found him, put the +pistol back on the nail and fitted the affair with the stock +properties of a mysterious assassin. + +"The explanation was at once accepted. The man's life, in the +public mind, called for an end like that. St. Alban after his +career, should by every canon of the tragic muse, go that way." + +He made a careless gesture with his fingers. + +"I saw the disturbed dust on the wall where the pistol had been +moved, the bits of split cap under the hammer, and the powder +marks on the muzzle. + +"But I let the thing go. It seemed in keeping with the destiny +of the man. And it completed the sardonic picture. It was all +fated, as the Gaelic people say . . . . I saw no reason to +disturb it." + +"Then there was some other mystery?" I ventured. + +He nodded his big head slowly. + +"There is an ancient belief," he said, "that the hunted thing +always turns on us. Well, if there was ever a man in this world +on whom the hunted thing awfully turned, it was St. Alban." + +He put out his hand. + +"Look at the shaft yonder," he said, "lifted to his memory, +towering over the whole of this English country, and cut on its +base with his services to England and the brave words he said on +that fatal morning on the Channel boat. Every schoolboy knows +the words: + +"`Don't threaten, fire if you like!' + +"First-class words for the English people to remember. No +bravado, just the thing any decent chap would say. But the words +are persistent. They remain in the memory. And it was a +thrilling scene they fitted into. One must never forge that: The +little hospital transport lying in the Channel in a choppy sea +that ran streaks of foam; the grim turret and the long whaleback +of a U-boat in the foam scruff; and the sun lying on the scrubbed +deck of the jumping transport. + +"Everybody was crowded about. St. Alban was in the center of the +human pack, in a pace or two of clear deck, his injured arm in a +sling; his split sleeve open around it; his shoulders thrown +back; his head lifted; and before him, the Hun commander with his +big automatic pistol. + +"It's a wonderful, spirited picture, and it thrilled England. It +was in accord with her legends. England has little favor of +either the gods of the hills or the gods of the valleys. But +always, in all her wars, the gods of the seas back her." + +The big Baronet paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it +and set it down on the table. + +"That's a fine monument," he said, indicating the white shaft +that shot up into the cloudless evening sky. "The road makes a +sharp turn by it. You have got to slow up, no matter how you +travel. The road rises there. It's built that way; to make the +passer go slow enough to read the legends on the base of the +monument. It's a clever piece of business. Everybody is bound +to give his tribute of attention to the conspicuous memorial. + +"There are two faces to the monument that you must look at if you +go that road. One recounts the man's services to England, and +the other face bears his memorable words: + +"`Don't threaten, fire if you like!'" + +The Baronet fingered the handle of his teacup. + +"The words are precisely suited to the English people," he said. +"No heroics, no pretension, that's the whole spirit of England. +It's the English policy in a line: We don't threaten, and we +don't wish to be threatened by another. Let them fire if they +like, - that's all in the game. But don't swing a gun on us with +a threat. St. Alban was lucky to say it. He got the reserve, +the restraint, the commonplace understatement that England +affects, into the sentence. It was a piece of good fortune to +catch the thing like that. + +"The monument is tremendous. One can't avoid it. It's always +before the eye here, like the White Horse of Alfred on the chalk +hill in Berkshire. All the roads pass it through this +countryside. But every mortal thing that travels, motor and +cart, must slow up around the monument." + +He stopped for a moment and looked at the white needle shimmering +in the evening sun. + +"But St. Alban's greatest monument," he said, "was the lucky +sentence. It stuck in the English memory and it will never go +out of it. One wouldn't give a half-penny for a monument if one +could get a phrase fastened in a people's memory like that." + +Sir Henry moved in his chair. + +"I often wonder," he said, "whether the thing was an inspiration +of St. Alban's that morning on the deck of the hospital +transport, or had he thought about it at some other time? Was +the sentence stored in the man's memory, or did it come with the +first gleam of returning consciousness from a soul laid open by +disaster? I think racial words, simple and unpretentious, may +lies in any man close to the bone like that to be rived out with +a mortal hurt. That's what keeps me wondering about the words he +used. And he did use them. + +"I don't doubt that a lot of our hero stuff has been edited after +the fact. But this sentence wasn't edited. That's what he said, +precisely. A hundred wounded soldiers on the hospital transport +heard it. They were crowding round him. And they told the story +when they got ashore. The story varied in trifling details as +one would expect among so many witnesses to a tragic event like +that. But it didn't vary about what the man said when the Hun +commander was swinging his automatic pistol on him. + +"There was no opportunity to edit a brave sentence to fit the +affair. St. Alban said it. And he didn't think it up as he +climbed out of the cabin of the transport. If he had been in a +condition to think, he had enough of the devil's business to +think about just then; a brave sentence would hardly have +concerned him, as I said awhile ago. + +"Besides, we have his word that, after what happened in the +cabin, everything else that occurred that morning on the +transport was a blank to the man; was walled off from his +consciousness, and these words were the first impulse of one +returning to a realization of events." + +Sir Henry Marquis reflected. + +"I think they were," he continued. "They have the mark of +spontaneity; of the first disgust of one grasping the fact that +he was being threatened." + +The Baronet paused. + +"The event had a great effect on England," he said. "And it +helped to restore our shattered respect for a desperate enemy. +The Hun commander didn't sink the transport, and he didn't shoot +St. Alban. It's true there was a sort of gentleman's agreement +among the enemies that hospital transports should not be sunk. + +"But anything was likely to happen just then. The Hun had failed +to subjugate the world, and he was a barbarous, mad creature. +England believed that something noble in St. Alban worked the +miracle. + +"`You're a brave man!' + +"Some persons on the transport testified to such a comment from +the submarine commander. At any rate, he went back to his U-boat +and the undersea. + +"That's the last they saw of him. The transport came on into +Dover. + +"England thought the affair was one of the adventures of the sea. +A chance thing, that happened by accident. But there was one man +in England who knew better." + +"You?" I said. + +The Baronet shrugged his shoulders. + +"St. Alban," he answered. + +He got up and began to walk about the terrace. I sat with the +cup of tea cooling before me. The big man walked slowly with his +fingers linked behind him. Finally he stopped. His voice was +deep and reflective. + +"`Man is altogether the sport of fortune!' . . . I read that in +Herodotus, in a form at Rugby. I never thought about it again. +But it's God's truth. St. Alban was at Rugby. I often wonder if +he remembered it. My word, he lived to verify it! Herodotus +couldn't cite a case to equal him. And the old Greek wasn't +hemmed in by the truth. I maintain that the man's case has no +parallel. + +"To have all the painstaking labor of years negatived by one +enveloping, vicious misfortune; to be beaten out of life by it, +and at the same time to gain that monument out yonder and one's +niche as hero by the grim device of an enemy's satire; by the +acting of a scene that one would never have taken part in if one +had realized it, is beyond any complication of tragedy known to +the Greek. + +"Look at the three strange phases of it: To be a mediocre +Englishman with no special talent; to die in horrible despair; +and to leave behind a glorious legend. And for all these three +things to contradict one another in the same life is unequaled in +the legends of any people." + +The Baronet went on in a deep level voice. + +"There was a vicious vitality behind the whole desperate +business. Every visible impression of the thing was wrong. +Every conception of it held today by the English people is wrong! + +"The German submarine didn't overhaul the hospital transport in +the Channel by accident. The Hun commander didn't fail to sink +the transport out of any humane motives. He didn't fail to shoot +St. Alban because he was moved by the heroism of the man. It was +all grim calculation! + +"He thought it was safe to let St. Alban go ahead. And he would +have been right if St. Alban had been the great egotist that he +was. + +"The commander of that submarine was Plutonburg of Prussia. He +was the right-hand man of old Von Tirpitz. He was the one man in +the German navy who never ceased to urge its Admiralty to sink +everything. He loathed every fiber of the English people. We +had all sorts of testimony to that. The trawlers and freightboat +captains brought it in. He staged his piracies to a theatrical +frightfulness. `Old England!' he would say, when he climbed up +out of the sea onto the deck of a British ship and looked about +him at the sailors, `Old, is right, old and rotten!' Then he +would smite his big chest and quote the diatribes of Treitschke. +`But in a world that the Prussian inhabits a nation, old and +rotten, may endure for a time, but it shall not endure forever!' + +"Plutonburg didn't let St. Alban and the transport go ahead out +of the promptings of a noble nature. He did it because he hated +England, and he wanted St. Alban to live on in the hell he had +trapped him into. He counted on his keeping silent. But the Hun +made a mistake. + +"St. Alban didn't measure up to the standard of Prussian egoism +by which Plutonburg estimated him." + +Sir Henry continued in the same even voice. The levels of +emotion in his narrative did not move him. + +"Did you ever see the picture of Plutonburg, in Munich? He had a +face like Chemosh. And he dressed the part. Other under-boat +commanders wore the conventional naval cap, but Plutonburg always +wore a steel helmet with a corrugated earpiece. Some artist +under the frightfulness dogma must have designed it for him. It +framed his face down to the jaw. The face looked like it was set +in iron, and it was a thick-lidded, heavy, menacing face; the +sort of face that a broad-line cartoonist gives to a threatening +war-joss. At any rate, that's how the picture presents him. One +thinks of Attila under his ox head. You can hardly imagine +anything human in it, except a cruel satanic humor. + +"He must have looked like Beelzebub that morning, on the +transport, when he let St. Alban go on." + +The Baronet looked down at me. + +"Now, that's the truth about the fine conduct of Plutonburg that +England applauded as an act of chivalry. It was a piece of +sheer, hellish malignity, if there ever was an instance." + +Sir Henry took a turn across the terrace, for a moment silent. +Then he went on: + +"And in fact, everything in the heroic event on the deck of the +transport was a pretense. The Hun didn't intend to shoot St. +Alban. As I have said, Plutonburg had him in just the sort of +hell he wanted him in, and he didn't propose to let him out with +a bullet. And St. Alban ought to have known it, unless, as he +afterwards said, the whole thing from the first awful moment in +the cabin was simply walled out of his consciousness, until he +began dimly to realize up there in the sun, in the crowd, that he +was being threatened and blurted out his words from a sort of +awful disgust." + +Again he paused. + +"Plutonburg was right about having St. Alban in the crater of the +pit. But he was wrong to measure him by his Prussian standard. +St. Alban came on to London. He got the heads of the War Office +together and told them. I was there. It was the devil's own +muddle of a contrast. Outside, London was ringing with the man's +striking act of personal heroism. And inside of the Foreign +Office three or, four amazed persons were listening to the bitter +truth." + +The Baronet spread out his hands with a sudden gesture. + +"I shall always remember the man's strange, livid face; his +fingers that jumped about the cuff of his coat sleeve; and his +shaking jaw." + +Sir Henry went over and sat down at the table. For a good while +he was silent. The sun filtering through the limbs of the great +oak-trees made mottled spots on his face. He seemed to turn away +from the thing he had been concerned with, and to see something +else, something wholly apart and at a distance from St. Alban's +affairs. + +"You must have wondered like everybody else," he said, "why the +Allied drive on the Somme accomplished so little at first. Both +England and France had made elaborate preparations for it over a +long period of time. Every detail had been carefully, worked +out. Every move had been estimated with mathematical exactness. + +"The French divisions had been equipped and strategically +grouped. England had put a million of fresh troops into France. +And the line of the drive had been mapped. The advance, when it +was opened on the first day of July, ought to have gone forward +irresistibly from cog to cog like a wheel of a machine on the +indentations of a track. But the thing didn't happen that way. +The drive sagged and stuck." + +The big Englishman pressed the table with his clinched hand. + +"My word!" he said, "is it any wonder that the devil, Plutonburg, +grinned when he put up his automatic pistol? Why shoot the +Englishman? He would do it himself soon enough. He was right +about that. If he had only been right about his measure of St. +Alban, the drive on the Somme would have been a ghastly +catastrophe for the Allied armies." + +I hesitated to interrupt Sir Henry. But he had got my interest +desperately worked up about what seemed to me great unjointed +segments of this affair, that one couldn't understand till they +were put together. I ventured a query. + +"How did St. Alban come to be on the hospital transport?" I said. +"Was he in the English army in France?" + +"Oh, no," he said. "When the war opened St. Alban was in the +Home Office, and, he set out to make England spy-proof. He +organized the Confidential Department, and he went to work to +take every precaution. He wasn't a great man in any direction, +but he was a careful, thorough man. And with tireless, +never-ceasing, persistent effort, he very nearly swept England +clean of German espionage." + +Sir Henry spoke with vigor and decision. + +"Now, that's what St. Alban did in England - not because he was a +man of any marked ability, but because he was a persistent person +dominated by a single consuming idea. He started out to rid +England of every form of espionage. And when he had accomplished +that, as the cases of Ernest, Lody, and Schultz eloquently +attest, he determined to see that every move of the English +expeditionary force on the Continent should be guarded from +German espionage." + +Sir Henry paused and poured out a cup of tea. He tasted it. It +was cold, and he put the cup down on the table. + +"That's how St. Alban came to be in France," he said. "The great +drive on the Somme had been planned at a meeting of military +leaders in Paris. The French were confident that they could keep +their plans secret from German espionage. They admitted frankly +that signals were wirelessed out of France. But they had taken +such precautions that only the briefest signals could go out. + +"The Government radio stations were always alert. And they at +once negatived any unauthorized wireless so that German spies +could only snap out a signal or two at any time. They could do +this, however. + +"They had a wireless apparatus inside a factory chimney at +Auteuil. It wasn't located until the war was nearly over. + +"The French didn't undertake to say that they could make their +country spy-proof. They knew that there were German agents in +France that nobody could tell from innocent French people. But +they did undertake to say that nothing could be carried over into +the German lines. And they justified that promise. They did see +that nothing was carried out of France." The Baronet looked at +me across the table. + +"Now, that's what took St. Alban across the Channel," he said. +"The English authorities wanted to be certain that there was no +German espionage. And there was no man in England able to be +certain of that except St. Alban. He went over to make sure. If +the plans for the Somme drive should get out of France, they +should not get out through any English avenue." + +The Baronet paused. + +"St. Alban went about the thing in his thorough, persistent +manner. He didn't trust to subordinates. He went himself. +That's what took him out on the English line. And that's how he +came to be wounded in the elbow. + +"It wasn't very much of a wound - a piece of shrapnel nearly +spent when it hit him. But the French hospital service was very +much concerned. It gave him every attention. + +"The man came into Paris when he had finished. The French +authorities put him up at the Hotel Meurice. You know the Hotel +Meurice. It's on the Rue de la Rivoli. It looks out over the +garden of the Tuileries. St. Alban was satisfied with the +condition of affairs in France, and he was anxious to go back to +London. Arrangements had been made for him to go on the hospital +transport. + +"He was in his room at the Meurice waiting for the train to +Calais. He was, in fact, fatigued with the attention the French +authorities had given him. Everything that one could think of +had been anticipated, he said. He thought there could be nothing +more. Then there was a timid knock, and a nurse came in to say +that she had been sent to see that the dressing on his arm was +all right. He said that he had found it easier to submit to the +French attentions than to undertake to explain that he didn't +need them. + +"He was busy with some final orders, so he put out his arm and +allowed the nurse to take the pins out of the split sleeve and +adjust the dressing. She put on some bandages, made a little +timid curtsey and went out. + +"St. Alban didn't think of it again until the German U-boat +stopped the transport the next morning in the Channel. He wasn't +disturbed when the submarine commander came into his cabin. He +knew enough not to carry any papers about with him. But +Plutonburg didn't bother himself about luggage. He'd had his +signal from the factory chimney at Auteuil. He stood there +grinning in the cabin before St. Alban; that Satanic, Chemosh +grin that the artist got in the Munich picture. + +"`I used to be something of a surgeon,' he said, `Doctor Ulrich +von Plutonburg, if you will remember. I'll take a look at your +arm.' + +"tit, Alban said he thought the man might be moved by some humane +consideration, so he put out his arm. + +"Plutonburg took the pins out of the sleeve and removed the +bandage that the nurse had put on in the Hotel Meurice. Then he +held it up. The long, cotton bandage was lined with glazed +cambric, and on it, in minute detail, was the exact position of +all the Allied forces along the whole front in the region of the +Somme, precisely as they had been massed for the drive on July +first!" + +I cried out in astonishment. "So that's what you meant," I said, +"by the trailed thing turning on him!" + +"Precisely," replied the Baronet. "The very thing that St. Alban +labored to prevent another from doing, he did awfully himself!" + +The big Englishman's fingers drummed on the table. + +"It was a great moment for Plutonburg," he said. "No living man +but that Prussian could have put the Satanic humor into the rest +of the affair." + +He paused as under the pressure of the memory. + +"St. Alban always maintained that from the moment he saw the long +map on the bandage everything blurred around him, and began to +clear only when he spoke on the deck. He used to curse this +blur. It made him a national figure and immortal, but it +prevented him, he said, from striking the Prussian in the face." + + + + +XVI. The House by the Loch + + +There was a snapping fire in the chimney. I was cold through and +I was glad to stand close beside it on the stone hearth. My +greatcoat had kept out the rain, but it had not kept out the +chill of the West Highland night. I shivered before the fire, my +hands held out to the flame. + +It was a long, low room. There was an ancient guncase on one +side, but the racks were empty except for a service pistol +hanging by its trigger-guard from the hook. There were some +shelves of books on the other side. But the conspicuous thing in +the room was an image of Buddha in a glass box on the +mantelpiece. + +It was about four inches high, cast in silver and, I thought, of +immense age. + +I had to wait for my uncle to come in. But I had enough to think +about. Every event connected with this visit seemed to touch on +some mystery. There was his strange letter to me in reply to my +note that I was in England and coming up to Scotland. Surely no +man ever wrote a queerer letter to a nephew coming on a visit to +him. + +It dwelt on the length of the journey and the remoteness of the +place. I was to be discouraged in every sentence. I was to +carry his affectionate regards to the family in America and say +that he was in health. + +It stood out plainly that I was not wanted. + +This was strange in itself, but it was not the strangest thing +about this letter. The strangest thing was a word written in a +shaky cramped hand on the back of the sheet: the letters huddled +together: "Come!" + +I would have believed my uncle justified in his note. It was a +long journey. I had great difficulty to find anyone to take me +out from the railway station. There were idle men enough, but +they shook their heads when I named the house. Finally, for a +double wage, I got an old gillie with a cart to bring me as far +on the way as the highroad ran. But he would not turn into the +unkept road that led over the moor to the house. I could neither +bribe nor persuade him. There was no alternative but to set out +through the mist with my bag on my shoulder. + +Night was coming on. The moor was a vast wilderness of gorse. +The house loomed at the foot of it and beyond the loch that made +a sort of estuary for the open sea. Nor was this the only thing. +I got the impression as I tramped along that I was not alone on +the moor. I don't know out of what evidences the impression was +built up. I felt that someone was in the gorse beyond the road. + +The house was closed up like a sleeping eye when I got before it. +It was a big, old, rambling stone house with a tangle of vines +half torn away by the winds: I hammered on the door and finally +an aged man-servant holding a candle high above his head let me +in. + +This was the manner of my coming to Saint Conan's Landing. + +I had some supper of cold meat brought in by this aged servant. +He was a shrunken derelict of a human figure. He was disturbed +at my arrival and ill at ease. But I thought there was relief +and welcome in his expression. The master would be in directly; +he would light a fire in the drawing-room and prepare a +bedchamber for me. + +One would hardly find outside of England such faithful creatures +clinging to the fortunes of descending men. He was at the end of +life and in some fearful perplexity, but one felt there was +something stanch and sound in him. + +I had no doubt that there, under my eye, was the hand that had +added the cramped word to my uncle's letter. + +I stood now before the fire in the long, low room. The flames +and a tall candle at either end of the mantelpiece lit it up. I +was looking at the Buddha in the glass box. I could not imagine +a thing more out of note. Surely of all corners of the world +this wild moor of the West Highlands was the least suited to an +Oriental cult. The elements seemed under no control of Nature. +The land was windswept, and the sea came crying into the loch. + +I suppose it was the mood of my queer experiences that set me at +this speculation. + +One would expect to find some evidences of India in my uncle's +house. He had been a long time in Asia, on the fringes of the +English service. Toward the end he had been the Resident at the +court of an obscure Rajah in one of the Northwest Provinces. It +was on the edge of the Empire where it touches the little-known +Mongolian states south of the Gobi. + +The Home Office was only intermittently in touch with him. But +something, never explained, finally drew its attention and he was +put out of India. No one knew anything about it; "permitted to +retire," was the text of the brief official notice. + +And he had retired to the most remote place he could find in the +British islands. There was no other house on that corner of the +coast. The man was as alone as he would have been in the Gobi. + +If he had planned to be alone one would have believed he had +succeeded in that intention. And yet from the moment I got down +from the gillie's cart I seemed drawn under a persisting +surveillance. I felt now that some one was looking at me. I +turned quickly. There was a door at the end of the room opening +onto a bit of garden facing the sea. A man stood, now, just +inside this door, his hand on the latch. His head and shoulders +were stooped as though he had been there some moments, as though +he had let himself noiselessly in, and remained there watching me +before the fire. + +But if so, he was prepared against my turning. He snapped the +latch and came down the room to where I stood. + +He was a big stoop-shouldered Englishman with a pale, pasty face +beginning to sag at the jowls. There was a queer immobility +about the features as though the man were always in some fear. +His eyes were a pale tallow color and seemed too small for their +immense sockets. One could see that the man had been a +gentleman. I write it in the past, because at the moment I felt +it as in the past. I felt that something had dispossessed him. + +"This will be Robin," he said. "My dear fellow, it was fine of +you to travel all this way to see me." + +He had a nervous cold hand with hardly any pressure in the grasp +of it. His thin black hair was brushed across the top of his +bald head, and the distended, apprehensive expression on his face +did not change. + +He made me sit down by the fire and asked me about the family in +America. But there was, I thought, no real interest in this +interrogation until he came to a reflective comment. + +"I should like to go to America," he said; "there must be great +wastes of country where one would be out of the world." + +The sincerity of this expression stood out in the trivial talk. +It indicated something that disturbed the man. He was as +isolated as he could get in England, but that was not enough. + +He sat for a moment silent, the fingers of his nervous hand +moving on his knee. When he glanced up, with a sudden jerk of +his head, he caught me looking at the little image of Buddha in +its glass box on the mantelpiece. + +Was this longing for solitude the influence of this mysterious +religion? + +Remote, lonely isolation was a cult of Buddha. The devotees of +that cult sought the waste places of the earth for their +meditations. To be out of the world, in its physical contact, +was a prime postulate in the practice of this creed. + +"Ah, Robin," he cried, as though he were in a jovial mood and +careless of the subject, "do you have a hobby?" + +I answered that I had not felt the need of one. The inquiry was +a surprise and I could think of nothing better to reply with. + +"Then, my boy," he went on, "what will you do when you are old? +One must have something to occupy the mind." + +He got up and turned the glass box a little on the mantelpiece. + +"This is a very rare image," he said; "one does not find this +image anywhere in India. It came from Tibet. The expression and +the pose of the figure differ from the conventional Buddha. You +might not see that, but to any one familiar with this religion +these differences are marked. This is a monastery image, and you +will see that it is cast, not graven." + +He beckoned me to come closer, and I rose and stood beside him. +He went on as with a lecture: + +"The reason given by the natives why this image is not found in +Southern Asia is that it cannot be cast anywhere but in the +Tibetan monasteries. A certain ritual at the time of casting is +necessary to produce a perfect figure. This ritual is a secret +of the Khan monasteries. Castings of this form of image made +without the ritual are always defective; so I was told in India." + +He moved the glass box a little closer to the edge of the +mantelpiece. + +"Naturally," he went on, "I considered this story, to be a mere +piece of religious pretension. It amused me to make some +experiments, and to my surprise the castings were always +defective. I brought the image to England." + +He shrugged his shoulders as with a careless gesture. + +"In my idle time here I tried it again. And incredibly the +result was always the same; some portion of the figure showed a +flaw. My interest in the thing was permanently aroused. I +continued to experiment." + +He laughed in a queer high cackle. + +"And presently I found myself desperately astride a hobby. I got +all the Babbitt metal that I could buy up in England and put in +the days and not a few of the nights in trying to cast a perfect +figure of this confounded Buddha. But I have never been able to +do it." + +He opened a drawer of the gun-case and brought over to the fire +half a dozen castings of the Buddha in various sizes. + +Not one among the number was perfect. Some portion of the figure +was in every case wanting. A hand would be missing, a portion of +a shoulder, a bit of the squat body or there would be a flaw +where the running metal had not filled the mold. + +"I'm hanged," he cried, "if the beggars are not right about it. +The thing can't be done! I've tried it in all sorts of +dimensions. You will see some of the big figures in the garden. +I've used a ton of metal and every sort of mold." + +Then he flung his hand out toward the bookcase. + +"I've studied the art of molding in soft metal. I have all the +books on it, and I've turned the boathouse into a sort of shop. +I've spent a hundred pounds - and I can't do it!" + +He paused, his big face relaxed. + +"The country thinks I'm mad, working with such outlandish +deviltry. But, curse the thing, I have set out to do it and I am +not going to throw it up." + +And suddenly with an unexpected heat he damned the Buddha, +shaking his clenched hand before the box. + +"Your pardon, Robin," he cried, the moment after. "But the +thing's ridiculous, you know. The ritual story would be sheer +rubbish. The beggars could not affect a metal casting with a +form of words." + +I have tried to set down here precisely what my uncle said. It +was the last talk I ever had with the man in this world, and it +profoundly impressed me. He was in fear, and his jovial manner +was a ghastly pretence. I left him sitting by the fire drinking +neat whisky from a tumbler. + +The old man-servant took me up to my room. It was a big room in +a wing of the house looking out on the garden and the sea. I saw +that it had been cleaned and made ready against my coming; +clearly the old man expected me. + +He put the candle on the table and laid back the covers of the +bed. And suddenly I determined to have the matter out with him. + +"Andrew," I said, "why did you add that significant word to my +uncle's letter?" + +He turned sharply with a little whimpering cry. + +"The master, sir!" he said, and then he stopped as though +uncertain in what manner to go on. He made a hopeless sort of +gesture with his extended hands. + +"I thought your coming might interrupt the thing . . . . You are +of his family and would be silent." + +"What threatens my uncle?" I cried, "What is the thing?" + +He hesitated, his eyes moving about the floor. + +"Oh, sir," he said, "the master is in some wicked and dangerous +business. You heard his talk, sir; that would not be the talk of +a man at peace . . . . He has strange visitors, sir, and the +place is watched. I cannot tell you any more than that, except +that something is going to happen and I am shaken with the fear +of it." + +I looked out through the musty curtains before I went to bed. +But the whole world was dark, packed down in the thick mist. +Once, in the direction of the open sea, I thought I saw the +flicker of a light. + +I was tired and I slept profoundly, but somewhere in the sleep I +saw my uncle and a priest of Tibet gibbering over a ladle of +molten silver. + +It was nearly midday when I awoke. The whole world had changed +as under some enchantment; there was brilliant sun and afresh +stimulating air with the salt breath of the sea in it. Old +Andrew gave me some breakfast and a message. + +His manner like everything else seemed to have undergone some +transformation. He was silent and, I thought, evasive. He +repeated the message without comment, as though he had committed +it to memory from an unfamiliar language: + +"The master directed me to say that he must make a journey to +Oban. It is urgent business and will not be laid over." + +"When does my uncle return," I said. + +The old man shifted his weight from one foot to the other; he +looked out through the open window onto the strip of meadow +extending into the loch. Finally he replied: + +"The master did not name the hour of his return." + +I did not press the interrogation. I felt that there was +something here that the old man was keeping back; but I had an +impression of equal force that he ought to be allowed the run of +his discretion with it. Besides, the brilliant morning had swept +out my sinister impressions. + +I got my cap and stick from the rack by the door and went out. +The house was within a hundred paces of the loch, in a place of +wild beauty on a bit of moor, yellow with gorse, extending from +the great barren mountains behind it right down into the water. +Immense banners of mist lay along the tops of these mountain +peaks, and streams of water like skeins of silk marked the deep +gorges in dazzling whiteness. + +The loch was a crooked finger of the sea hooked into the land. +It was clear as glass in the bright morning. The open sea was +directly beyond the crook of the finger, barred out by a nest of +needlepointed rocks. On this morning, with the sea motionless, +they stood up like the teeth of a harrow, but in heavy weather I +imagined that the waves covered them. To the eye they were not +the height of a man above the level water; they glistened in the +brilliant sun like a sheaf of black pikes. + +This was Saint Conan's Landing, and it occurred to me that if the +holy man came in rough weather from the Irish coast he required, +in truth, all the perspicacity of a saint to get his boat in +without having it impaled on these devil's needles. + +There was no garden to speak of about the house. It was grown up +like the moor. Two or three images of Buddhas stood about in it; +one of them was quite large - three feet in height I should say +at a guess. They were on rough stone pedestals. I examined them +carefully. They were all defective; the large one had an immense +flaw in the shoulder. The gorse nearly covered them; the unkept +hedge let the moor in and there were no longer any paths, except +one running to the boathouse. + +I did not follow the path. But I looked down at the boathouse +with some interest. This was the building that my uncle had +turned into a sort of foundry for his weird experiments. There +was a big lock on the door and a coal-blacked chimney standing +above the roof. + +It was afternoon. The whole coast about me was like an +undiscovered country. I hardly knew in what direction to set out +on my exploration. I stood in the path digging my stick into the +gravel and undecided. Finally I determined to cross the bit of +moor to the high ground overlooking the loch. It was the sloping +base of one of the great peaks and purple with heather. It +looked the best point for a full sweep of the sea and the coast. + +I jumped the hedge and set out across the moor to the high +ground. + +There was no path through the gorse, but when I reached the +heather where the foot of the mountain peak descended into the +loch there was a sort of newly broken trail. The heather was +high and dense and I followed the trail onto the high ground +overlooking the sweep of the coast. + +The loch was dappled with sun. The air was like wine. The +mountains above the moor and the heather were colored like an +Oriental carpet. I was full of the joy of life and swung into an +immense stride, when suddenly a voice stopped me. + +"My lad," it said, "which one of the Ten Commandments is it the +most dangerous to break?" + +Before me, at the end of the trail, seated on the ground, was a +big Highlander. He was knitting a woolen stocking and his +needles were clicking like an instrument. I was taken off my +feet, but I tried to meet him on his ground. + +"Well," I answered, "I suppose it would be the one against +murder, the sixth." + +"You suppose wrong," he replied. "It will be the first. You will +read in the Book how Jehovah set aside the sixth. Aye, my lad, +He ordered it broken when it pleased Him. But did you ever read +that He set aside the first or that any man escaped who broke +it?" + +He spoke with the deep rich burr of his race and with a structure +of speech that I cannot reproduce here. + +"Did you observe," he added, "the graven images that your uncle +has set up? . . . Where is the man the noo?" + +"He is gone to Oban," I said. + +He sprang up and thrust the stocking and needles into his +sporran. + +"To Oban!" He stood a moment in some deep reflection. "There +will be ships out of Oban." Then he put another question to me: + +"What did auld Andrew say about it?" + +"That my uncle was gone to Oban," I answered, "and had set no +time for his return." + +He looked at me queerly for a moment, towering above me in the +deep heather. + +"Do you think, my lad, that your uncle could be setting out for +heathen parts to learn the witch words for his hell business in +the boathouse?" + +The suggestion startled me. The thing was not beyond all +possibility. + +But I felt that I had come to the end of this examination. I was +not going to be questioned further like a small boy overtaken on +the road I had answered a good many questions and I determined to +ask one. + +"Who are you?" I said. "And what have you got to do with my +uncle's affairs?" + +He cocked his eye at me, looking down as one looks down at a +child. + +"The first of your questions," he said, "you will find out if you +can, and the second you cannot find out if you will." And he was +gone, striding past me in the deep heather. + +"I have some business with your uncle, of a pressing nature," he +called back. "I will just take a look through Oban, the night +and the morn's morn." + +I was utterly at sea about the big Highlander. He might be a +friend or an enemy of my uncle. But clearly he knew all about +the man and the mysterious experiment in which he was engaged. +He was keeping the place well within his eye; that was also +evident. From his seat in the heather the whole place was spread +out below him. + +And his queer speech fitted with old Andrew's fear. Surely the +Buddha was a heathen image and my uncle had set it up. The stern +Scotch conscience would be outraged and see the Decalogue +violated in its injunctions. This would explain the dread with +which my uncle's house was regarded and the reason I could find +no man to help me on the way to it. But it would not explain my +uncle's apprehension. + +But my adventure on this afternoon did not end with the big +Highlander. I found out something more. + +I returned along the edge of the loch and approached the +boathouse from the waterside. + +Here the path passed directly along the whole wall of the +building. The path was padded with damp sod, and as it happened +I made no sound on it. It was late afternoon, the shadows were +beginning to extend, there was no wind and the whole world was +intensely quiet. Midway of the wall I stopped to listen. + +The house was not empty. There was some one in it. I could hear +him moving about. + +It was of no use to try to look in through the wall; every joint +and crack of the stones was plastered. I went on. + +Old Andrew was about setting me some supper. He came over and +stood a moment by the window looking at the shadows on the loch. +And I tried to take him unaware with a sudden question: + +"Has my uncle returned from Oban?" + +But I had no profit of the venture. + +"The master," he said, "is where he went this morning." + +The strange elements in this affair seemed on the point of +converging upon some common center. The thing was in the air. +Old Andrew voiced it when he went out with his candle. + +"Ah, sir," he said, "it was the fool work of an old man to bring +you into this affair. The master will have his way and he must +meet what waits for him at the end of it." + +I saw how he hoped that my visit might interrupt some plan that +my uncle was about to put into effect, but realized that it was +useless. + +Clearly my uncle had not left the place; he had been at work all +day in the boathouse. The journey was to account to me for his +disappearance. I had passed the lie along to the queer sentinel +that sat watching in the heather and I wondered whether I had +sent a friend or an enemy into Oban on an empty mission, and +whether I had fouled or forwarded my uncle's enterprise. + +I put out the candle and sat down by the window to keep watch, +for the boathouse, the loch and the open sea were under the sweep +of it. But, alas, Nature overreaches our resolves when we are +young. It was far into the night when I awoke. + +A wind was coming up and I think it was the rattle of the window +that aroused me. There was no moon, but under the open stars the +world was filled with a thin, ghostly light, and the scene below +the window was blurred a little like an impalpable picture. + +A low-masted sailing ship lay in the open sea; there was a boat +at the edge of the loch, and human figures were coming out of the +boathouse with burdens which they were loading into the boat. +Almost immediately the boat, manned with rowers, turned about and +silently traversed the crook of the loch on its way to the ship. +But certain of the human figures remained. They continued +between the boathouse and the beach. + +And I realized that I had opened my eyes on the loading of a +ship. The boat was taking off a cargo. + +Something stored in the boathouse was being transferred to the +hold of the sailing ship. The scene was inconceivably unreal. +There was no sound but the intermittent puffs of the wind, and +the figures were like phantoms in a sort of lighted mist. +Directly as I looked two figures came out of the boathouse and +along the path to the drawing-room door under my window. I took +off my shoes and crept carefully out of the room and down the +stairway. The door from the hall into the long, low room was +ajar. I stood behind it, and looked in through the crack. + +My uncle was burning letters and papers in the fireplace with a +candle, and in the chair beyond him sat the strangest human +creature that I had ever seen in the world. + +He was a big Oriental with a sodden, brutal face fixed as by some +sorcery into an expression of eternal calm. He wore the uniform +of an English skipper. It was dirty and sea-stained as though +picked up at some sailor's auction. He was speaking to my uncle +and his careful precise sentences in the English tongue, coming +from the creature, seemed thereby to take on added menace. + +"Is it wise, Sahib," he said, "to leave any man behind us in this +house?" + +"We can do nothing else," replied my uncle. + +The Oriental continued with the same carefully selected words: + +"Easily we can do something else, Sahib," he said, "with a bar of +pig securely lashed to the ankles, the sea would receive them." + +"No, no," replied my uncle, busy with his letters and the candle. +The big Oriental did not move. + +"Reflect, Sahib," he went on. "We are entering an immense peril. +The thing that will be hunting us has innumerable agencies +everywhere in its service. If it shall discover that we have +falsified its symbols, it will search the earth for us. And what +are we, Sahib, against this thing? It does not die, nor wax old, +nor grow weary." + +"The lad knows nothing," replied my uncle, "and old Andrew will +keep silent." + +"Without trouble, Sahib," the creature continued, "I can put the +young one beyond all knowledge and the old one beyond all speech. +Is it permitted?" + +My uncle got up from the fireplace, for he had finished with his +work. + +"No," he said, "let there be an end of it." + +He turned about, and under the glimmer of the candle I could see +that the man had changed; his big pale face was grim with some +determined purpose, and there was about him the courage and the +authority of one who, after long wavering, at last hazards a +desperate venture. He broke the glass box and put the Buddha +into his pocket. + +"It is good silver," he said, "and it has served its purpose." + +The Oriental got softly onto his feet like a great toy of cotton +wood. His face remained in its expression of equanimity, and he +added no further word of gesture to his argument. + +My uncle held the door open for him to pass out, and after that +he extinguished the candle and followed, closing the door +noiselessly behind him. + +The thing was like a scene acted in a playhouse. But it +accomplished what the playhouse fails in. It put the fear of +death into one who watched it. To me in the dark hall, looking +through the crack of the door, the placid Oriental in his English +uniform, and with his precise words like an Oxford don, was +surely the most devilish agency that ever urged the murder of +innocent men on an accomplice. + +The wind was continuing to rise and the mist now covered the loch +and the open sea. It was of no use to stand before the window, +for the world was blotted out. I was cold and I lay down on the +bed and wrapped the covers around me. It seemed only a moment +later when old Andrew's hand was on me, and his thin voice crying +in the room. + +"Will you sleep, sir, and God's creatures going to their death!" + +He ran, whimpering in his thin old voice, down the stair, and I +followed him out of the house into the garden. + +It was midmorning. A man was standing before the door, his hands +behind him, looking out at the sea. In his long trousers and +bowler hat I did not at once recognize him for the Highlander of +my yesterday's adventure. + +The coast was in the tail of a storm. The wind boomed, as though +puffed by a bellows, driving in gusts of mist. + +The ship I had seen in the night was hanging in the sea just +beyond the crook of the loch. It fluttered like a snared bird. +One could see the crew trying every device of sail and tacking, +but with all their desperate ingenuities the ship merely hung +there shivering like a stricken creature. + +It was a fearful thing to look at. Now the mist covered +everything and then for a moment the wind swept it out, and all +the time, the silent, deadly struggle went on between the trapped +ship and the sea running in among the needles of the loch. I +don't think any of us spoke except the Highlander once in comment +to himself. + +"It's Ram Chad's tramp . . . . So that's the craft the man was +depending on!" + +Then the mist shut down. When it lifted, the doom of the ship +was written. It was moving slowly into the deadly maw of the +loch. + +Again the mist shut down and, when again the wind swept it out, +the ship had vanished. + +There was the open sea and the long swells and the murderous +current boiling around the sharp points of the needles; but there +was no ship nor any human soul of the crew. Old Andrew screamed +like a woman at the sight. + +"The ship!" he cried. "Where is the ship and the master?" + +The thing was so swift and awful that I spoke myself. + +"My God!" I said. "How quickly the thing they feared destroyed +them!" + +The big Highlander came over where I stood. The burr of his +speech and its sacred imagery were gone with his change of dress. + +"No," he said, "they escaped the thing they feared . . . . What +do you think it was?" + +"I don't know," I answered. "The creature in the English uniform +said that it did not die, nor wax old, nor grow weary." + +"Ram Chad was right," replied the Highlander. "The British +government neither dies, ages, nor tires out. Do you realize +what your uncle was doing here?" + +"Molding images of Buddha," I said. + +"Molding Indian rupees," he retorted. + +"The Buddha business was a blind . . . . I'm Sir Henry Marquis, +Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland Yard . +. . . We got track of him in India." + +Then he added: + +"There's a hundred thousand sterling in false coin at the bottom +of the loch yonder!" + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Sleuth of St. James's Square, by M. D. 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