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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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